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“Would it be any better if I promised that no one is going to shove anything up your butt?”
“What about the cutting-off part?”
“Well, I can’t promise that.” She laughs a little bit manically, which is actually cute on her. Yes, I did just think that. “I’m kidding. They would never do something like that. They might be big tough bikers, but they’re not like those other clubs you hear about.”
“Right, so they just go around flipping off old ladies.”
“What?”
“Never mind. They really don’t do any of the bad stuff?”
Ayana shakes her head, her raven hair shimmying like a silky curtain over her shoulders. The light from the window catches the blue-black highlights, and the whole thing starts glistening like the night sky. Hmm, if our baby had her hair, too, I wouldn’t mind it one bit. Wow. Am I actually having these thoughts?
This whole thing is totally crazy.
“My dad makes his money the legit way. You know that. You’re employed by him. Kind of. He never was into that…that living on the other side of the law, rolling in money at other people’s expense kind of thing.”
It finally hits me that I’ve never considered the fact that maybe we’ve found nothing all this time because there was nothing to find. I have to grasp the counter to keep myself upright as I’m accosted by that realization. It’s a good thing I’ve had a lot of other counter-gripping shocks. When Ayana looks at me, it’s with concern and not suspicion.
“The club is a family,” she continues. “A brotherhood of misfits. Some of them just like to ride, and some of them have had a bad past. Dad runs a tight ship, but he doesn’t turn people away because they’re fucked up. The club is about support, becoming clean, getting jobs, gaining a purpose, and dealing with your demons. Some guys need other guys to share their experience, some guys need the support and brotherhood of it, and some guys just need the open road, a bike rumbling between their thighs, and the wind making them feel free in ways they’ve never been before to know that life is and can be good.”
Holy. Effing. Shit. This. Woman. Is. Amazing. This woman. Ayana Timewell. The future mother of my child. I have never, ever met a woman like her before. Never met someone so beautiful and so wise. Someone who was so badass and could almost be considered the daughter of a villain, though maybe he’s a little bit more like us than I thought. Anti-villains—that’s me, my brothers, and Granny.
Is it possible that we moved everyone out here and were wrong? How is Granny ever going to believe that? I choke up on the wild animal-style panic going on a full-on riot in my gut. Granny won’t think I was keeping Ayana a secret. She won’t think that just because Ayana is pregnant, I’ve gone soft and am willing to swallow any line she feeds me like a hungry sucker fish. Gulp, there goes the bait, right down the gullet. That would be so totally out of character for me. Granny would never say that love—since she’d assume that’s what it is, or potent physical attraction and sexual chemistry—can make a person blind and dumb.
No. She’ll be shocked, but I’ll find a way to convince Granny to believe me. Because I do believe what Ayana said. I can’t say why, but I do know, right here and now, with utter certainty, that she isn’t selling me a sack of bull doody.
The plan.
“I’d really like for you to meet my family. Maybe we could tell them together?”
Ayana’s smile is soft on her rosy lips. Either the sun is coming in just right through the kitchen window, or Aryana’s skin looks even more flushed and golden than usual. Even more ethereal and breathtakingly lovely. Suddenly, I’m a mite short of breath over here.
“Sure,” she says easily, not at all daunted by the prospect. “If that’s what you want. Mine, though? You have to let me handle my dad my way.”
I gulp extra loudly, and I’m not forcing myself or acting one bit. “Can part of that be getting him not to rip my balls off, then hanging them from my ears like messed-up ornaments on a Christmas tree?”
“Ooh. Testicle earrings.”
“That should not excite you!” It also shouldn’t excite me to see her smile so wide, but her smile is utterly captivating.
“It doesn’t.” She forces her smile back into a frown. “I just know that it’s pretty likely your wee will actually be removed and pasted horizontally across your lower forehead area like one big duck unibrow.”
Oh. My. God. I think I’m melting on the spot. Because did she really just seriously dream that up? As if her badassery needed reinforcing in my mind. My granny would love Ayana. That’s it! She needs to meet Granny. They need to hang out. No one could spend time with Ayana and not see how genuine—and awesome—she is. Maybe if she knew my family, it would be easier for Granny to believe the truth, which would make it easier to tell Ayana the truth in exchange. The truth about us and what we do. I can’t start this whole thing off with a giant lie. She’ll never trust me again.
