Baby Wars: A Roomie Wars Novella Book 3

  Kat T. Masen

  Baby Wars

  Kat T. Masen

  Copyright 2019 Kat T. Masen

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.

  Editing by Swish Design & Editing

  Book design by Swish Design & Editing

  Cover design by Outlined with Love Designs

  Cover Image Copyright 2019

  All Rights Reserved

  And then there were three…

  Well—that was the plan.

  Drew:

  Expectation—get married, focus on career and wait two years to start a family.

  Zoey:

  Reality—I blame my husband. He knocked me up faster than we could say ‘honeymoon.’

  Everything is not what it seems with these former roommates. After they finally say ‘I do,’ Drew and Zoey have another challenge…

  Parenthood.

  And whoever said that was easy?

  Blurb

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Kat T. Masen

  Playlist

  Connect With Me Online

  About The Author

  Drew

  Five years ago…

  The sound of the movie playing blasted through the apartment and into the kitchen. Standing in front of the cooktop, I stirred my tofu in a circular motion allowing it to sizzle but careful not to overcook it as my mind began to wander carelessly toward the two of them in the other room.

  The fucker was over—again.

  Sprawled out on the couch I bought with my hard-earned money and pretending to watch a lame ‘80s movie when, in fact, his dirty hands were all over my roommate.

  “Stop,” Zoey giggled, loudly.

  I wasn’t a drinker. I’d been good to myself and on an extreme health kick. But the bottle of wine which sat on the countertop appeared to be the solution to my problem.

  And I didn’t do wine, especially Zoey’s girly choices.

  Instead, I pulled open the fridge grabbing a beer and screwing the top off. Bringing it to my mouth and savoring the taste on my lips, I had planned to stretch out the time to finish until the voices overpowered the movie… again.

  “Baby, c’mon, it’s been like forever. You’re holding out on me, and I just need something. Just give me head.”

  “Jess…” I heard Zoey hiss, lowering her voice, “… Drew’s home.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s always fucking home when I’m here. That’s why I’m done coming over.”

  My hands wrapped tightly around the bottle, chugging it down in one go before I slammed it against the countertop. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Talking shit in my fucking apartment. My hands began to tremble with rage, my fists curled up into a ball ready to sucker punch the dick and throw him out of the apartment for good.

  “Move in with me,” Jess demanded.

  “C’mon, Jess, let’s be serious. You live with two other guys, plus all we do is fight. I like it here… it’s my home.”

  “You mean you like him here.”

  Silence fell, and quietly I stopped all movement and waited for her response.

  “Drew is my best friend… okay? Nothing more.”

  “Yeah, well, I see the way he looks at you. He’d fuck you in your sleep if you’d let him. Probably jerking off in your bed while you shower.”

  “Oh, that’s crude. Drew doesn’t look at me like that. You need to chill out. He screws around with so many chicks. If he’d ever wanted me I’m sure he wouldn’t do that. Quite the opposite, don’t you think? Honestly, you need to stop being so paranoid.”

  Her words were inexcusable, portraying me in such a negative way yet resonated oddly. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of her sexually in any way. It just came in waves. One minute I’d see her come out of the shower in her towel and get this massive hard-on and the next, she’s eating peanut butter with a teaspoon out of the jar, and my urges disappear.

  “If you moved in with me, we could get married, have kids. You know I’ve always wanted kids.”

  His voice irritated me, pricking at my skin with every syllable. There’s no chance in hell I’d let her marry or tie herself down to him for the rest of her life with kids.

  No chance in hell.

  I would find a way to stop this.

  She should be with someone like me, not me, but someone like me. Someone who would care for, treat her with respect, and worship the ground she walked on.

  “Jess, let’s just watch the movie. Too much serious talk in the middle of Footloose. We can talk about this another time. Let’s just enjoy tonight, okay? And stop fussing over Drew. I promise you he’s nothing more than my roommate.”

  She stated the truth, and the words hurt, though my pride overpowered and like always, I resorted to the only thing that gave me pleasure. This chick I met at a bar sent me her number and invited me back to her place. With my cell in hand, I texted her back, telling her to come here instead.

  Two could play at this game.

  And if Jess weren’t careful with his intentions, I’d make it my mission to steal his girl, marry, and knock her up.

  Now, wouldn’t that be something?

  Zoey

  Present time…

  “Now, if you look over here toward the right you’ll see this little white dot. That’s your baby.” The sonographer, Susan, waits with anticipation. The excitement in her eyes radiates, and with a slight nod, she encourages me to do the same.

  I’m not sure what the reaction is meant to be. There’s a white dot on the screen. One I can barely make out unless I squint my eyes and tilt my head sideways to make it past all the other blurriness threatening my vision. It doesn’t look like a baby but more like a smudge on the monitor lost in the abyss of a black sack.

  Drew squeezes my hand tight, overcome with joy and a proud grin adorning his beautiful face. God, my husband is so damn yummy especially when he wears his black-framed glasses and the navy-blue scrubs. Zoey, shut up, this is how you got pregnant in the first place.

  Drew managed to get a few free hours between surgeries to meet me for our first ultrasound. He continues to sit on the uncomfortable plastic chair beside me staring at the screen in awe, all the while squeezing my hand and almost cutting off my circulation.

  I throw him a smile, faking the elation that everyone else in this room feels besides me.

  That little smudge will soon be a baby.

  A baby—so large—that will need to squeeze out of my vagina so
mehow.

  “Babe, are you okay? You look confused.”

  Drew knows me too well. That’s what happens when roomies become besties and then husband and wife.

  “It’s just that it doesn’t look like a baby,” I answer, flatly.

  “This is the most important time for the baby. The vital organs are forming and…”

  My thoughts trail off as Drew continues his medical spiel. It’s all moving too fast. It seems like only yesterday we were getting married and honeymooning—having the time of our lives. We’ve talked about having kids, though it isn’t something we planned straight away.

  But Drew is insatiable, and when we’re in the bedroom, behind closed doors, we’re careless. I don’t know why—or how—but all rules fly out the window when your husband is giving you the best orgasm of your life, and pulling out is such an afterthought.

  A missed period and four pregnancy tests later, two blue lines confirm we are expecting.

  That was three weeks ago.

  Three short weeks where everything in my life has changed.

  This moment—seeing your baby for the first time through a monitor— is nothing like I imagine it to be.

  Firstly, I was requested to drink two to three eight-ounce glasses. I barely drank a glass of water a day let alone several. The pressure on my bladder is extremely uncomfortable, and I’m certain I’ll explode at any minute. On top of that, the waves of nausea make it difficult to lay on my back. The saliva is building up in my mouth, and each time I swallow, I want to dry heave at the same time.

  I want kids. I think having a baby will be the greatest thing based on some of my favorite movies like Three Men and a Baby. If three men can raise a baby, then Drew and Zoey Baldwin can too.

  But something feels off.

  Like I’m lacking any emotion or maternal instinct toward this baby I’m carrying.

  “So, don’t worry, babe. Soon enough, you’ll feel the kicks, and it’ll feel like you’re carrying a baby.”

  “Right, so we’re all good?” Susan asks.

  Drew and I nod at the same time.

  Susan presses on my uterus uncomfortably and pushing me to pee again. I’m about to beg her to stop, sure that I’ve already peed on the bed when her expression changes. She appears worried, her face stiffening, but it lasts only a moment before it reverts back to the same smile. Though this time, it’s followed by a small chuckle.

  “Oh my, well, look what we have here,” she says casually, grinning while typing on the keyboard.

  Drew gasps out loud gazing at the screen with his mouth wide open.

  “Oh my God, what is it?” I panic, swallowing the large breath stuck in my throat. “You found something weird? Okay, listen… I never wanted to admit this, but when I was eight, I accidentally swallowed my goldfish. Mom warned me every night to clean the bowl, and I was lazy. The fish died, and when she came into my room, I panicked and swallowed it, blaming the cat.”

  Drew and Susan stare at me oddly, my heart racing with fear and their silence not helping me calm down at all.

  “Since you’re a doctor, I’m guessing you can see it, too?” Susan questions Drew.

  Oh, Peaches… we meet again. I knew this day would come to haunt me in my adulthood. I’m carrying a half-human, half-goldfish. Hopefully, it’s a girl so it can at least get away with being a girl mermaid or something. I don’t even think there are boy mermaids, but hey, it is what it is. Love is love. If he wants to wear pearls then I’ll support him.

  “Zoey.” Drew rests his hand on my arm, rubbing it slowly as his eyes glaze over with a jubilant grin spreading across his face.

  I heave, loudly. “Twin goldfish?”

  “Babe, no. Twin babies. You’re carrying twins.”

  Susan points to the two sacs on the screen. I can barely make out the first one let alone the second one. Did Drew just say twins? Like two babies growing inside of me, swimming around with Peaches and having the time of their life in the two liters of water that’s now ready to kill me.

  “Hey, look at me.” Drew lowers his voice, using his calming technique that works magic on me every time. “It’ll be okay. They can share our spare room for a while and then maybe we can look at moving back to the house.”

  We moved to an apartment closer to the city just before we found out about the pregnancy. Between our busy work schedules, the commute from the big house became too much. We barely saw each other and spent more time on the road than in each other’s company.

  “But… but… I can’t carry two babies. I can’t even carry one baby,” I cry, sucking in my breath.

  “Susan, would you mind giving us a minute?”

  Susan nods, leaving the room with a sympathetic smile.

  Drew laces his fingers into mine, raising my hand toward his lips and kissing each knuckle gently. My head falls back onto the pillow, a tear running down the side of my cheek as I try to absorb this life-changing news.

  “We can do this, okay? You can do this. You’re stronger than what your give yourself credit for. Remember the time you got that nasty bout of food poisoning from the one-dollar taco you ate from that street vendor? You still woke up the next morning and ran the marathon with Mia and survived.”

  “I never told you that I vomited three times on that marathon. One of them was accidentally in this old lady’s picnic basket. It was crowded, and I panicked.”

  Drew lowers his head, avoiding eye contact and trying to hold in his laughter. Maybe it was funny to him, but vomiting in some stranger’s picnic basket isn’t one of my finest moments.

  Still riddled with terror, I sob again. “Once, I babysat the next-door neighbor’s kitten. Just the one. I went to put milk in its bowl and left it on the couch, and she fell off. I’m horrible. It was only one kitten. How on earth will I take care of two babies? I can’t even keep that orchid you gave me alive. I know you said it doesn’t require maintenance, but it died.”

  “Hey… breathe.” Drew runs his finger down my cheek, rising from the chair and leaning in to kiss me. His lips, warm and loving, ignite that fire in my belly each time he touches me.

  “You’ve got me, okay? We’re a team, and there’s no I in team.”

  “There’s a me in team.”

  “Zoey,” he whispers.

  “Drew.”

  “I love you. And I don’t think it’s possible to love you anymore, but here I am, proud to call you my wife and mother of my babies.”

  I exhale a small breath and smile at my husband. As long as I have him by my side, I can get through anything.

  “Now, let’s get out of here and feed my babies your favorite pizza, okay? But only this once. After today, you’ve got to start eating better.”

  Cringing, I barely manage to swallow. “Argh, gross. You know what I really want? That kale salad you bring home with that yellow slimy-looking dressing. Oh man, it smells so good.”

  Drew’s smile fades, and instinctively, he places his hand on my forehead with a cemented gaze and follows by checking my pulse. “Shit, are you okay?” His expression turns from worry to a know-it-all smirk as he once again toys with my raging emotions driven by my unpredictable hormones.

  “Aside from panicking that my vagina is going to become some waterlog ride shooting out babies and a potential dead goldfish… yeah, I guess so.”

  Drew extends his arm, supporting me as I sit up, handing me a tissue to wipe off the greasy lube they used on my belly.

  With my body now dressed and no longer exposed in a questionable gown, we make our way outside after a much-needed restroom stop, thanking Susan along the way, and walk toward the car.

  In the parking lot, amongst the many rows of vehicles, Drew steps ahead of me to open the door to our newly purchased car, latching onto my arm to help me in.

  Slightly irritated, I pull back. “I can get in the car. I’m not disabled.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “But you’re holding onto me like I’m precious cargo.” I sig
h, bothered by his overbearing ways. “Look, okay, I’m fine. I just need to get my head around this whole twins’ thing. I didn’t expect this—”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. Listen, I’ve got twenty minutes if you want to go to the café down the road?”

  I nod, happy to spend time with my husband even if it’s only for twenty minutes. Grabbing my phone and fiddling with the stereo to activate the Bluetooth, I scroll through my list of songs, stopping at the perfect one.

  “Oh God, really? You know I only have twenty minutes and this song takes up six of my few precious minutes,” he complains.

  “Please?” I beg while clapping my hands together. “Just one more time. We’ve almost nailed our performance.”

  Drew groans loudly, annoyed at my persistence knowing full well he has no choice but to sing to Queen.

  “Ready?” I ask, clearing my throat. “Is this the real life, or is this just fantasy…”

  Drew

  “Great. My skinny jeans which weren’t even skinny jeans to begin with aren’t buttoning up.”

  Staring into the mirror, Zoey bites her nails as she often does when anxious, pronouncing a sigh before turning around to face me.

  “Nothing fits me.”

  I continue tying my shoelaces—bunny ears as dad referred to them when I was young. It’s interesting how we form these habits from such a young age and ones which I’ll need to instill in my children.

  Children.

  The realization hits hard again.

  We’re having twins.

  My focus shifts back to Zoey. “I think it’s time you bought some maternity clothes.”

  “But maternity clothes are ugly. It’s just moo-moos and questionable leggings,” she complains, hopping in an attempt to force the zipper up.

  There’s no chance those jeans are going to fit. Carrying twins means she will progress in size faster than a single pregnancy. Zoey is a complainer. She can easily complain about anything for a solid hour before even entertaining a solution.