Baby Makes Three Read online

  Baby Makes Three

  Avery Ford

  Contents

  Description

  1. Jack

  2. Craig

  3. Craig

  4. Jack

  5. Craig

  6. Jack

  7. Craig

  8. Jack

  9. Craig

  10. Craig

  11. Jack

  12. Jack

  13. Craig

  14. Craig

  15. Jack

  16. Craig

  17. Jack

  18. Craig

  19. Craig

  20. Jack

  21. Craig

  22. Jack

  23. Craig

  24. Jack

  25. Craig

  26. Craig

  27. Jack

  28. Craig

  29. Jack

  30. Craig

  Epilogue - Jack

  Afterword

  Also by Avery Ford

  Copyright © 2017 by Avery Ford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For my wonderful readers…your support is what keeps me going. xo

  Description

  Craig has it all – a beautiful fiancée, a bank account full of money, and the promise of a life full of open doors and boundless opportunity. So why does he feel so empty?

  As the only single man in his friend group, Jack submits to his friends’ matchmaking efforts with good humor. But he can’t tell them that the reason he’s been so lackluster is because he’s got a crush on a straight man.

  When Craig finds out that his ex-girlfriend hid their child from him, his perfect life comes tumbling down. With his ex in rehab and his fiancée bowing out before they even make it to the ceremony, Craig is left with a baby to take care of and an offer from a new friend to crash in his spare room while he wraps his head around everything.

  Only, the more Craig gets to know Jack, the more he wants something more than friendship from him. And in a world that’s spinning out of control, questioning his sexuality could be a lifeline – or an added weight to sink him down.

  1

  Jack

  The cufflink of Jack’s suit shone in the light streaming through his office window. He sat up a little straighter in his chair and tried to focus on what his client — Kenneth Dunn — was saying, but it was difficult to do when his phone was lighting up as often as it did.

  “What I need right now is a low risk investment,” Kenneth said. He was a paunchy man with wispy hair whose suit was a little too loose at the shoulders. “Doesn’t matter to me if in the longterm the payout is lower. Taking a risk isn’t something I think I can afford right now.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Jack countered. He knew that there was an investment option he wanted to suggest, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was. It had to be in one of the mock ledgers he’d generated for the meeting, but there was no telling which one it was. “There are advantages to taking risk, and with the amount we have to play with, I’d go as far as to advise it. What’s unwise is to invest blindly. If you make educated decisions, I think that—”

  The screen of his phone lit up. Jack’s gaze flicked to it.

  “That…”

  A captioned image appeared on the screen. Jack couldn’t read it from where he sat, but he could tell by the stock photo alone that it was going to be funny.

  “Mr. Wilder?” Kenneth asked, his puffy cheeks pinching in displeasure.

  “Sorry.” Jack tore his eyes away from his phone. It sat beside the pile of simulated ledgers he’d drawn up, and he was hopeful Kenneth couldn’t see the screen. “Someone’s been trying to get in touch with me all day. As I was saying, I think that some risk is worth it. I have a few options for you to consider.”

  Jack picked up the first ledger from the pile and prayed that his past self was responsible enough to put them in a useful order. He opened the cover and turned the document around so that it faced Kenneth. His eyes scanned the list of investments and he was relieved when he saw an option that jogged his memory.

  Of course.

  “If we invest in a variable rate option with a mild to moderate history of fluctuation, in as little as five years you’re likely to see a significant divergence from a safer, fixed rate investment.”

  Kenneth’s face grew stern. “Isn’t this pushing my luck?”

  “Not necessarily.” Jack drew back from the ledger to access his computer. He pulled up the statistics he had on hand. What looked like boring charts and graphs and numbers to most people was beautiful to him. There was something so wholesome and secure about data. “If we look at the data, you’ll see that even when there are dips, those dips have statistically never lasted for long, and the increase afterward, statistically, makes up for the loss in most instances.”

  Jack turned his computer screen around to face Kenneth, and Kenneth’s face twisted in distaste. It looked like he didn’t appreciate graphs and numbers in the same way Jack did.

  His loss.

  “All right,” Kenneth said. “So what you’re telling me is that if I do this, it’s not going to lose me money.”

  “I can never guarantee that,” Jack said. “But what I can guarantee is that if I were in your shoes with the exact funds you have available and the knowledge I have of the market, I would invest exactly like I’m suggesting here. Compared to the other ledgers, your forecasted profits are far weightier following this investment option in a comparable amount of time.”

  Jack’s phone lit up again. There was a new text message waiting for him. Jack’s gaze darted toward the screen. He had to bite down on the inside of his lip to keep from smiling.

  Over the course of the last month, the texts had been near constant. He wasn’t used to having someone blow up his phone.

  Let alone someone so hot.

  Jack tore his gaze away to look back at Kenneth. The only man he should be thinking of at that moment was the one he was doing business with.

  “So,” Jack said. “What are you thinking?”

  “I think that I need a few hours to sit on this.” Kenneth slid the mock ledger closer, going over the numbers. “Am I free to borrow this?”

  “You can keep it if you want,” Jack said. “It’s made specifically for you.”

  “Why don’t we take a lunch break and reconvene after?” Kenneth asked. “It’ll give me a chance to sit down and chew these numbers over, and from there we’ll come to a conclusion.”

  “Would you like to take the other ledgers for comparison?”

  “Probably a good idea.”

  When it got down to it, numbers spoke for him. Jack was an excellent financial consultant, but when all was said and done, that meant he was a vessel for figures. Black ink did a better job sealing the deal than his voice ever did. Prep work was astronomically important, and jobs like this proved it time and time again.

  Kenneth took custody of the ledgers Jack had prepared, and Jack watched as he slotted them into his briefcase. The front was worn and the buckles at the top were varnished. Kenneth lived humbly, but Jack knew he could afford a more extravagant lifestyle. In a few years when he started to see the benefits from his investments, even more so.

  “We’ll meet back at one,” Jack said. “I’ve got an hour booked for you then.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Kenneth snapped his briefcase closed. He rose and extended his hand. Jack stood and grabbed it, shaking it firmly. Kenneth’s palm was sweaty. “See you soon.”

  Jack sh
owed Kenneth out of his office. Once the door was closed, he wiped his hand on the side of his pants and made a face, then walked back to his desk and spritzed his hand with disinfectant. Once the clear gel was worked into his skin, he picked up the phone and unlocked his screen.

  There were five messages waiting for him.

  All of them were from Craig.

  Jack glanced toward the door to make sure it really was closed before he scrolled up through the messages to get to the first one. Jack had sent him three memes and two texts. Jack scrolled through them, grinning like an idiot.

  He didn’t particularly like memes. Some were funny, but some he just didn’t get. Trends were always changing, and he had a hard time keeping up.

  But whenever Craig sent him something, it always made him laugh.

  It wasn’t like they really knew each other. Not really. Craig had been in Jack’s life for a hot minute, only in town for Lane and Roman’s wedding. It hadn’t stopped Jack from looking.

  Craig was the kind of gorgeous that Jack considered regal—light brown hair, blue eyes, and a pointed chin. If he were to wear a crown, he’d fit right in with the aristocracy.

  Or whatever.

  Jack didn’t know how any of that kings and queens stuff worked, but he knew that Craig was refined in a way that meant silver cutlery and crystal wineglasses. And now that Craig was back home in Los Angeles while Jack remained in smalltown North Carolina, Jack assumed Craig’s days of paper plates and barbecues were over.

  It didn’t stop him from enjoying Craig’s texts a little too much.

  Jack kicked back in his chair and scrolled through the images. Then, grinning, he read what Craig had sent him.

  Hope your meeting isn’t a snorefest.

  Sitting w Cecilia while she and mom go through seating arrangements. Zzz.

  Jack’s mood faltered. He reread the last text, then turned off the phone and reflected on it for a few moments. Talking with Craig had become the highlight of his day, and Jack knew his heart was starting to get tangled up in their conversations, but there was one big glaring issue he needed to confront.

  Not only was Craig straight, but he was getting married.

  Jack scrubbed at his eyes and rocked his chair back and forth, trying to shake himself out of his stupor. He was crushing on a straight man. How stupid could he be?

  Jack was gay. He’d been gay since he was too young to understand what it meant. Women were fine, but he felt no draw toward them. He liked men. It was as simple as that.

  And often he liked men he shouldn’t.

  He’d had his heart bruised before.

  Straight men were off the table. Straight men weren’t worth the energy or the guaranteed heartbreak. Straight men were…

  Jack’s phone screen lit up with a text from Craig.

  Straight men were texting him all day long like he meant something and giving him mixed signals. Jack picked up his phone again and read the text.

  You want to come? We’ve got an opening at Roman and Lane’s table.

  Jack swallowed the knot in his throat. Seeing Craig get married wasn’t something he ever wanted to do.

  He was jealous.

  Jack made a face and rolled his shoulders back. What was he supposed to reply?

  Can’t come because I’ll spend the entire ceremony beating myself up.

  I’ll pass. I think I’d break if I saw you in person — you already give me butterflies just by texting.

  Not unless you’re planning to say, “I don’t.”

  None of those were going to work. Jack let out a sickened sigh and typed out a diplomatic response.

  It’s three weeks from now, right? Can’t. Schedule is booked for the next two months.

  The message sent. It registered as read. It was only a little bit of a lie. Jack’s schedule was still open while he finished off a contract, but he had a few offers waiting to be accepted that would fill up his time. The typing icon appeared seconds later — Craig was replying.

  Bummer. Guess we can give it to Roman as a buffer zone against family.

  That works. Jack hated to be short, but he also couldn’t bring himself to keep talking about something that hurt him so deeply. His crush on Craig had hit like a freight train, and he was still reeling from the impact.

  How did your meeting go? Craig asked.

  Fine. Client took the ledgers I prepared like I guessed he would. It’s always the same. Going to seal the deal this afternoon and get him invested right.

  Great job :) think you can work out some investments for me after I get all that $$$ from my grandfather’s will?

  Jack didn’t think before he replied, Of course.

  He’d been single for too long if he was this desperate. Maybe it was time to fire up Grindr and commit to a road trip. There wasn’t much action to be had in smalltown North Carolina. It felt like except for the little gay haven he lived in at the Blackwood duplexes, Jack was all on his own.

  All on his own with his ex, Hunter, lurking in the shadows.

  Jack scowled and set the phone down. Craig didn’t reply — he had to be busy with wedding planning. It made Jack’s skin itch to think about it.

  The tablecloths. The linens. The chairs. The guest list. The menu.

  Why did he always fall for guys he couldn’t have?

  Jack tucked his phone into his pocket and made his way to the door. It was best he stopped thinking about it. He had an hour to take for lunch before it was back to the grind, and he didn’t want to spend it obsessing over something that would never be.

  Once Craig was married and officially off the market, Jack would lick his wounds and move on with his life. Until then, he’d endure.

  Lunch would be a good distraction in between, and there was a plate of battered chicken strips with his name on it waiting for him in the pub across the street.

  2

  Craig

  Cecilia folded her hands on her lap daintily and looked at Craig from beneath fanned lashes. Craig offered her a meek smile.

  “So?” she asked.

  “So…” Craig trailed off. “I think you did a good job. I don’t think there’s anything really out of place.”

  Craig’s phone sat on his thigh, the screen still on. His conversation with Jack was active. He looked away from Cecilia to look down at his phone, waiting to see if Jack would message him back. The little typing icon at the bottom of their conversation appeared. Craig’s smile brightened.

  “Craig?” Cecilia asked, the pitch of her voice growing shrill with thinly veiled irritation. “Hello?”

  “Craig,” Craig’s mother, Catherine, rebuked. “We’re talking to you.”

  “I know,” Craig said. He looked up from his phone. “I answered you, didn’t I?”

  “You did.” Cecilia’s face betrayed her emotions — her lips were tight with frustration. “But you’re not invested in this conversation at all. All morning you’ve been sitting there on your phone texting when you should have been contributing. This is your family I’m trying to accommodate.”

  “Cecilia is right, Craig,” Catherine said sternly. “She’s doing everything she can to make sure that this wedding goes off flawlessly, and all you’re doing is sitting around on your phone. These are your relatives. You’re the one who knows best who gets along with whom and who needs to be separated. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean you have license to check out.”

  “This is our wedding,” Cecilia snapped. “I can’t plan something that’s ours alone.”

  Craig understood their train of thought, and he knew that he was being unfair to both of them, but he couldn’t keep focused. Wedding planning bored him. Eighty percent of the people his mother had forced his hand into inviting didn’t mean anything to him. Fifteen percent of those remaining were people he abhorred. The five percent leftover were the only ones he cared about. Craig envied that his cousin, Roman, had been able to worm his way out of a huge ceremony when he’d tied the knot with his husband, Lane.

&nb
sp; It had been one of the smallest weddings Craig had been to, but it had also been one of the best.

  He’d met Jack there, after all. And Dylan and Brad.

  For the first time in Craig’s life it felt like he’d found people who valued him for himself instead of his relation to the Hawthorn family.

  It made it hard as hell to devote his attention to something as shallow as planning a wedding that was more about prestige than a devotion of love.

  “Craig?” Cecilia piped.

  “I’m listening,” Craig promised. “I understand where you’re coming from. It’s just… I don’t want this.”

  “What are you saying?” his mother asked, aghast. “Craig, you apologize this instant.”

  “No, I don’t mean it that way.” Craig held out his hands, trying to calm his mother and his fiancée down. “I just mean, all the glamor and glitz. All the guests. The exclusive venue. The fancy cake… it’s not what I want. I still don’t understand why we can’t have something smaller.”

  Both Cecilia and Catherine looked at him like he was crazy.

  In their eyes, he probably was.

  “With your family?” Cecilia asked. “Darling, there’s no way we could do something small without insulting everyone. There are too many of them not to invite.”

  “And Cecilia’s family as well,” Craig’s mother reminded him. “There are already few enough of them as it is. How would they feel if they were suddenly uninvited?”

  Craig ran his hand through his hair. He’d locked it in place earlier that morning with a misting of hair spray, but he couldn’t stop himself from messing it up. He was nervous, he realized. Maybe anxious. The crawling feeling of dread in his chest wouldn’t give up.

  “I’m not saying that we’re going to do that,” Craig said. “Not at all, especially since we sent out the invitations. It’s just… it isn’t what I wanted, and both of you know it.”