Selling My Soul for His Aston Martin.

Selling My Soul For His Aston Martin. (21)

"Ay yo Jamie, come here for a second!"  

I sighed, wiping my hands on the towel and walking out of the small bathroom. "Geez, dude. A girl can't take a decent squat without being pestered." 

He rolled his eyes. "You pregnant women pee like racehorses. That was your fourth time today." 

I folded my arms, balancing them slightly on the small bump and walking up to him. "I find it a little odd that you're tracking my bladder, Ter." 

"I'm your right hand man. I'm supposed to keep track of those things." He handed me the clipboard. "Check it." He said, jutting his chin toward the wreck outside. I squealed in excitement. "Mine?" 

"The owners specifically requested you." 

"Deadline?" 

"Two months. It's a real fixer-upper, hon." 

I clapped my hands. "Let's pimp this ride yo!" 

"Never say that again." 

"Agreed." 

~*~ 

The engine had to be fixed first, so during the next week and a half I was working underneath the car. Of course, Sam had to lift it a little more than usual when I was on my back, due to the bump. Sam also did the heavy lifting, so that I wouldn't miscarry. I was about four months in.  

Because of popular vote and the enjoyment of waiting until the very last second, I waited to find out whether the baby was a girl or a boy. Will called a couple of times a week, and there was a steady flow of gifts. Matty was the pet of the shop, greeting customers with a wagging tail that seemed to shake his entire body at the same time. I had dynamite on blast and was swaying my hips (which had gotten wider) to the beat. "I throw my sandwich in the air all night, saying aa-yo, too much mayo!" 

Seriously. Mayo, the sight, the smell, the ANYTHING made me nauseous. Which was kind of weird. I craved sweets, chocolates, pies, cakes, did I forget to mention chocolates? 

I waved the wrench around, narrowly avoiding Naomi, who ducked and narrowed her eyes at me. "Watch it, chick. I don't beat up pregnant ladies, but you can be an exception." 

I grinned. "So violent. And toward your boss?" 

"Shut up." Talk about a free environment. "Seriously though, there's some guy outside wanting to see you. I don't know if he knows if you're pregnant or not, though, because men tend to run from a package deal, and this one is hot AND rich." 

I got hot customers all the time, and those old women who chuckle and stroke my belly, like it has some tape on it that says STROKE MY BELLY FOR GOOD LUCK. 

"Kay." I put the wrench down, still bouncing a little from Dy-na-mite. The radio changed and an old song, Hayden Patteneire's "I Still Believe in Love" came on. I looked at the radio and shrugged, walking out of the garage...just to stop short. 

Will was staring at my stomach. I pulled the short-cut top I was wearing a little lower and glared at him. "What. Do. You. Want?" 

He looked up at me, his eyes sad. "I cancelled the show. That's where I've been, fighting lawsuits made by the reality show producers. Drew's a little pissed, but he'll get over it. I lost over half my savings. Now that I'm basically ruined in showbiz, my father doesn't have need for me anymore, so he disowned me to save face. I gave it all up. I'm a normal citizen now, because I sort of tainted my reputation. 

"But that doesn't really matter." He bowed his head, and I noticed that he had cut his hair. "Because the only person I want to accept me is you. I'm sorry, Jamie. I'm sorry for being a douche, I'm sorry I betrayed your trust, I'm sorry I lied, I'm sorry-" 

I held up a hand and walked into the garage, picking up a wrench. I swing it down on the onto stereo with all my force. My employees jumped and stared at me oddly, but I just put the wrench down in a clatter and walked back outside.  

"I hate that song," I said to no one in particular. "Because I don't still believe in love. I've been hurt enough to last me a lifetime." I put a hand on my stomach, looking down. "I know this baby will too. But for right now, I'd rather us both be spared." 

"Jaime-" 

"You practically destroyed my life. I'm pregnant at nineteen. I'm supposed to be dancing, doing what I love. Luckily, I have this. But no," I shook my head. "I don't think I can forgive you. Now, if you would please get the hell off my property before I get my gun for trespassers, I'd highly appreciate it."