Yea! I've been dying to do an update for this ever since I wrote the first part! I hope you enjoy, and thanks to Sallydoodle for her help with the ending!
Six Months Later...
He sat back on the couch in his office, one he had spent many nights on when Sophie first kicked him out.
"A little deeper, Yolanda, if you can." He ran his fingers through her hair, focusing on the in and out motion around his cock.
The brunette pulled her mouth away, and replied breathlessly. "It's Yvetta, Mr. Northman."
He nodded. "Yes. Yvetta. Of course. A little deeper, darling, if you can. Use your hand if you have to."
She nodded back, and wrapped her hand around his length. "It's just that, well, you're so large, and..." She shook her head, and smiled sweetly. "Never mind."
He smiled, as she made a concerted effort to perfect her deep throating skills. He'd make sure she got a great Christmas bonus this year. Maybe a turkey as well. Pam, the office manager, got a turkey. Yvetta had only been his secretary for a few weeks, and besides her willingness to learn, she was also very productive. A top notch employee, in his opinion.
He felt himself close to coming, and was looking forward to watching her swallow every drop, when his door whipped opened, and was darkened by an all too familiar face, followed by Pam, who looked at him, a deadpan expression on her face. "I tried to stop her, Mr. Northman, but she was quite insistent.
Yvetta removed her mouth from him, as he glanced up at five foot six inches of pure bitch. Sookie Stackhouse. He started with her red high heels, and then her black fishnets, and then a little black dress that hugged every curve of her. He ended with her face, which was, unimpressed, although, he reasoned, she had no reason to be.
"Christ, Eric. It's 8:30 in the morning." She glanced at Yvetta, indifferently. "Run along now. We are not to be disturbed."
Yvetta rose to her feet, straightened her dress, and reached for Eric's fly. He shook his head, as she began to zip it up. "Hold my calls."
"Yes sir." She nodded in Sookie's direction, and she snorted at her.
"Honestly, that's the best you can do? Eurotrash?" She sat down at his desk, crossing her legs deliciously. He thought she looked a little too comfortable in his office, although, he reasoned, she had been quite comfortable in here a few months earlier, when he fucked her on that very couch during a 'business' meeting.
"I don't think you're in any position to comment, Ms. Stackhouse. Now what can I do for you? I believe I transferred your account to Mr. Herveaux, did I not?" He sat back down on the couch, after adjusting his pants, irritated that she hadn't walked in five minutes later.
"Yes, and he's doing a mediocre job, but that's not why I'm here, Eric." Emphasis on the Eric. He hadn't missed her intonation.
He leaned back on the couch, kicking his feet up. "Why are you here then, Ms. Stackhouse? I believe last time we spoke you said you were forgetting I existed, and then you threw a vase at my head, for quite unfounded reasons."
"Unfounded?" She looked at him incredulously. "You were fucking someone in the bathroom of my establishment. That violates any number of health codes. I could have been shut down on Halloween, for crying out loud. We were packed that night."
Eric rolled his eyes. "Please, let's not pretend it was the health code violation that was bothering you. You were mad that I was fucking your hostess, and not you." He remembered the talk they had had the week before, which involved a lack of exclusivity between them, and also remembered that it was she that brought it up, and practically insisted on it. He'd been quite satisfied fucking her alone, and often, as their arrangement had been for the two months previous.
"Don't be ridiculous. You and I both knew we were going nowhere fast."
"And you and the dog food man went everywhere fast, and that was much better?" She'd had a whirlwind romance with Sam Merlotte, the owner of an international pet food company. They were a match made in the society pages. "I heard you got engaged from Brigant. I guess congratulations are in order." He eyed the large ring on her hand. It was generic. A huge solitaire. He wasn't surprised.
"Sam and I are very happy." She looked thoughtful. "Unfortunately, he's good at math."
"Huh?"
She sighed as she reached in her purse, pulled out a photo, and slid it across his desk. He got up from the couch, picked it up, and examined it carefully. An ultrasound photo. "What's this? You came to tell me that he knocked you up, and that's why you're engaged? Darling, I don't give a shit why you're marrying him."
She sighed, again. "Darling." She rolled her eyes. "He is not the one that knocked me up."
Realization slowly sank in, as he thumbed the picture between his fingers. "How do you know it's mine?"
"Because I'm three month's pregnant, and I've only been fucking him for three weeks."
"And why should I believe you?"
"Because, Eric, do you honestly think I'd be here, if I didn't know?"
He thought about it. She had a point, after the way they'd parted ways a couple of months ago. "You don't look pregnant."
"I'm going to, very soon, and there are going to be lots of questions, which is why I'm here."
"I don't know what to tell you." He tried to still the hundreds of thoughts racing through his mind. A baby? His baby? With the goddess whore he'd once fantasized fucking on their wedding night in Vegas?
"I don't want you to tell me anything. This is our problem. We need to make some decisions. It's your baby too." She crossed her arms over her chest. He noticed that it was a bit larger.
"What kind of decisions?" He knew what kind of decisions, but he wanted her to say it, so he wasn't the one to bring it up.
She didn't want to bring it up either. It wasn't something she was comfortable with. "I'm having it."
"Him." He said, his voice certain. "It's a boy."
"How can you be so sure?" She cocked her head at him.
He looked down, avoiding her eyes. "Just a feeling. I'll pay child support. You won't have to fight me on that. I believe you, because, as you said, you wouldn't be here otherwise."
Her voice wavered. "Sam said he'd raise the child. I'm really just here as a courtesy, and despite the fact that you are an asshole, you deserved to know."
How noble, Eric thought. "Well I'm sure you'll be a lovely family, and no one will ask any questions when our son is well over six feet, when Sam is a paltry 5'9, if I'm not mistaken." He spat the last part out, unable to hide his anger.
"Eric, we aren't together, and before today, I'm sure you thought that was for the best." She was right, he had. She'd hurt him, in a way he wasn't aware he could be hurt. He hadn't realized how he felt about her, until she'd rejected him, and by then, it was too late.
"You're right. I wouldn't be with you, if you were the last woman on earth. You're far too complicated for my liking." He told himself he preferred women like Yolanda, but deep down, he knew that was a lie. She was not complicated enough.
"Exactly, and you are far too selfish for my liking." She stood up, and for the first time, he noticed a small bump in her very tight dress. "I won't deny you visitation, if it's something you want, but as a family friend. This paternity business stays between you, Sam and I."
Her hands went to her stomach, and he knew that the words she'd been saying were well rehearsed, by her, in her head. He decided they weren't really what she wanted, or she wouldn't have had to rehearse them. "If that's what you want, then that's fine. I won't ruin your reputation Lover." He stopped himself, as soon as the words came out of his mouth. It was the wrong thing to say, if anything had ever been the wrong thing to say.
She looked taken aback. "I'm not your lover. Goodbye Eric. I'll see you around, and I'll make sure you're notified when the baby is born." She walked towards the door, quickly, so he wouldn't see her tears.
"Sookie?"
She didn't turn around, her hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"
"I'll take your campaign back, from Alcide, if you want."
She was quiet, for a minute. "I think it would really help the business, if you would."
"Then I will. Call me if you need anything."
She choked. "I will." And with that she was gone. Eric had Yvetta send flowers. He didn't sign the card.
Two months passed, and he didn't hear from her. He'd taken over the marketing campaign for Bon Temps again, but dealt with the brother, who didn't give a shit about what he did. He did a good job, thought, and told himself it was for his son. It would benefit him, if the business prospered, not that he wouldn't be well off anyway, as the son of a dog food magnate. Merlotte was rich, without a doubt, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't be the father his son deserved. He wouldn't respect Sam, and if he was as smart as his mother, he'd figure out that he wasn't his real father before his tenth birthday, when he surpassed him in height.
It was a week after Christmas, and he'd popped into the office, which was closed for New Years to pick up a bit of work for a doughnut campaign he wanted to get a head start on, when he saw her, at the coffee shop on the corner. She was alone, and had a distant look on her face. Against his better judgement, but because he couldn't resist, he walked in, ordered a coffee, and a piece of pecan pie with two forks, and slid into her booth. "Happy holidays."
She'd been crying. The holidays hadn't been easy. Things were never as easy as they seemed, at first glance, especially when you were carrying one man's child and engaged to another. "Thanks."
He noticed that she was substantially larger than the last time he saw her, and reality sunk in, a little harder than before. "How have you been?"
"Well, I'm over the morning sickness, but none of my clothes fit." She patted her stomach. "I'm ok."
"Good." He smiled, and handed her a fork. "Have some pecan pie. Your favourite."
"You remembered." She gave him a half smile, and took the fork. "This baby is kickin' the hell out of me lately."
"I'm sure he is." Eric grinned broadly. "Good luck with him. I was hell on wheels as a kid."
"Some things never change, huh?" She took a big bite of pie.
"Some things don't, but some things do." He took a bite of the crust, leaving the pecan filling for her. He didn't like to see her so sad. He'd told himself the arrangement they'd worked out was for the best. It didn't look like she'd be able to argue that with a straight face now.
They finished their coffee and pie, and shared a few moments of comfortable silence. They'd always been comfortable around each other, despite their other shortcomings. "I need to pop up to the office quickly, but then we can share a cab if you want. I assume you're going home?" He handed her her coat.
"Sure, that would be fine." She took the coat, and wrapped it around her. He did the math in his head. She was five months pregnant. Four months to go. Quietly, she followed him through the lobby, and they rode the elevator back up to his office, where he'd forgot the mockups for the doughnut campaign. He grabbed them from his desk, and headed out into the empty office. "It's weird up here, empty. No flirty secretaries stroking your 'ego'." She grinned. He loved her dirty innuendo sense of humor. It was so un-ladylike, and made it clear she'd grown up Jason Stackhouse's sister.
"Indeed." And then it happened. It was the smallest form of contact possible, a brush of two fingers, and all the carefully constructed barriers he spent a lifetime building fell down around him, as he picked her up, and sat her down on Yolanda's desk, his lips crashing into hers. She squeaked out some form of acceptance of his action, and her barriers fell as well, as she brought her hands up to her face.
Sam had rejected her the morning before, when she reached for him, using the excuse that he was too tired, but she knew that wasn't it. It was another man's child between them. The way he looked her had changed, a little bit each day, along with her growing stomach. Sam was a gentleman, but it was a hard thing to overlook, even if he never said anything to her, because he was too kind. She wrapped her hands around his neck, never feeling like something was so right, as this very moment, and it broke her heart, in a way, knowing who he was. This would never work, but in this moment, it did. She pulled away, mourning the loss of his lips on hers. "I want you."
He shook his head. "Not here, and not like this, not anymore." His hands went to her stomach. "It's not just about you and I anymore."
He was right, she thought. "You're right."
"I wish I wasn't." He whispered, kissing her again. "I wish that this could be it."
"Can it be, just for today?" She realized that she'd never wanted anything more, even if it wasn't right, long term. It felt right, right now. "I need you."
He nodded, understanding how that felt. "Not here." He helped her off the desk, righting the pen cup that he'd knocked over haphazardly. "We'll go to my apartment." He didn't bring people there, ever. Sophie had been the last, and it had been the last time they were together, after she'd realized what kind of man he was. Perhaps she'd always known, but it was the moment she was unable to deny it.
She nodded, taking his hand in hers, as he lead her into the elevator, and down into the snowy streets. He was able to get a cab relatively quickly, and instead of changing her mind, as he suspected she might, she just grasped his hand a little tighter, clinging to him, like he was a life raft of sorts. He wasn't sure what she was drowning in though, but he knew he'd save her regardless. He wasn't usually the white knight type, but he would be for her. He had been before, and he'd do it again. As many times as it took.
The cab dropped them off, in front of his building, and he pulled away momentarily, getting out to help her out of the cab. The idea of her slipping upset him greatly, and he put an arm supportively around her back, and guided her into his lobby.
His apartment was sparsely furnished, and clean. He kept few personal possessions, and he liked it that way. There were a few paintings that he'd purchased, because he'd liked them, not because he knew anything about art. He held the door open for her, and she walked in, taking in his space. They'd always met at her place, with its southern meets city design. "It looks like you."
"Sparse and unattached?" He helped her with her coat.
"Uncomplicated." She turned, grabbing his hand once more, and leading him over to his couch. She sat down, and he pulled her back up.
"If we're doing this, we're doing it right. My room is over here." He didn't want her to be uncomfortable, and he didn't know much about the logistics of sex with someone that was pregnant, since he'd never even pondered it before this afternoon. He knew it was doable though, and it was his child. He wouldn't have considered it otherwise.
She nodded, and followed him to his room, with its heavy wooden furniture, which made her think of his Swedish heritage. It was all very Norse, in a way. Once in the sanctuary of his room, her hands went for the buttons on his shirt, deftly undoing them, and pushing it to the floor, along with his pants. He let her take the lead here, because he was terrified she'd reject him, and change her mind.
She didn't, and he watched as she pulled her sweater off, revealing the most magnificent cleavage he'd ever laid eyes on, and he almost gasped, as he caught his first glimpse of their son. "May I?" He reached for her stomach, as she nodded her acceptance.
"I think he's sleeping. He usually wakes up around dinner to remind me to eat, as if I could forget." She smiled, as his large hands covered the majority of the surface area.
"You look beautiful, right now." He watched her recline on his bed, and he laid down to join her, laying on his side, and kissing her softly.
Sam hadn't touched her stomach since it became evident what was happening in there. He avoided it when they slept together, opting to turn the lights off, or utilize a position that hid the evidence of her relationship with another man. Eric did quite the opposite, rolling onto his back, and taking her hand, as she moved on top of him. He remembered that she quite enjoyed being on top, the first time they were together, and it seemed like the most logical position. If this was going to well and truly be the last time he was going to be with her, he wanted it to be memorable, and he wanted to remember her, just like this, glowing and radiant, as a result of a moment they'd shared before.
She picked up her hips, and slid her underwear off, tossing them to the side, before removing her bra. She wanted every inch of contact he'd give her, since she knew this was it. The connection she felt with him, as she took him inside of her was similar to the one she'd felt with him before she'd caught him making eyes at waitresses, and flirting with stewardesses on their trip to Hawaii. It was as though all of the doubts and fears she had about them, as a couple, together dissipated, and she was left with just him, and the growing reminder of all the things she loved about him, between them.
They moved together, as he slid up against his headboard so he could bring his lips to hers. In a way, he felt like everything changed, in that moment. He had a family. They were his family. All the running around, the hundreds of women he made scream in pleasure, didn't hold a candle to the one in his lap, right now, whose hands ignited his skin wherever they made contact.
He finished, and made sure that she did as well, and then held her, his arm wrapped tightly around her stomach, willing her to stay, when he knew she'd inevitably go. "I should go. Sam will be wondering where I am. I told him I was going shopping."
She didn't have any bags with her, and it had been nearly closing time when he'd run into her. "What were you doing?"
"I just needed some time to think." She choked out, before deciding not to tell him about her rejection yesterday. She didn't want him to think that was why she ended up here, in his bed, after all these months, because it wasn't. It didn't have anything to do with that. She'd needed him long before yesterday, she'd just been far too stubborn to admit it, and that trend showed no sign of going out of style anytime soon. "Thanks for the pie." She'd never thank him for the other. "And the company. It was nice to see you Eric." She got up, fighting back the tears that were almost impossible to stop.
"You too Sookie. Have you seen the new ad campaign?"
"Yea. Business has been great, even with Jason taking a more active role, with me, well, you know." She pulled her dress over her head, and patted her stomach. "I'm sure I'll see you around."
"And you'll call, right?" When she had the baby. He'd tolerate whatever Sam wanted to throw at him, if it meant he could have a half a minute with the two of them.
She nodded, avoiding his eyes. "I will. Good night, and happy holidays."
Two Weeks Later...
The next two weeks were hell, for both of them, for various different reasons. Sookie felt a tremendous amount of guilt, for not feeing more guilt over what she'd done. Eric just felt unsettled by what had happened, and wondered if he'd done something terribly wrong in this life or another to feel so conflicted over something he had no control over. She'd made her decision, and he'd have to live with it, just like she did.
Then he stopped, once windy day, in front of Tiffany and Co., and thought to himself, why that was. She'd changed her direction before, as had he, with Sophie. Well, Sophie had changed the direction, but he'd been moved in another direction, and things had worked out. He'd kept moving forward. No matter what happened, he'd always keep moving forward, but if he didn't take the chance, he'd never know how things could have been, only how they were, as a result of his inability, or unwillingness to change his circumstances. He walked in, and walked out with a three-stone engagement ring, firstly because it was different from the ones that Bill and Sam had purchased for her, and secondly, because the stone that represented the present was the largest, and he hoped she'd see the importance of living in the moment, like they'd done two weeks ago, and that the consequences of doing that could never be wrong.
He grabbed a cab to Bon Temps, and was lucky enough to catch her in her office signing paycheques. She looked up, and he couldn't help but notice how tired she looked. He cut right to the chase.
"I'll marry you. We can raise our son together." He pulled a ring box out of his winter coat. "It's not a pity proposal because I knocked you up, and it's not because I'm jealous of you and Mr. Dog Food. It's because I want us to try and make this work. I'll be in Vegas, for work next week. If you want to do this, meet me there, and we'll do it, and deal with the consequences together. If not, let me know where to send the child support checks, and I'll be that unrelated uncle at his birthday parties." He leaned back, against the hardwood door, which he'd fucked her against, in what felt like another life. "I'd try, for you."
Her hands went to her stomach, which had grown considerably, since he saw her last, even though only two week had passed. "I can't do this." Even she wasn't sure what she couldn't do. She found herself torn between her head and her heart, in a way she'd never imagined, especially when it came to Eric. She didn't think him capable of feelings, not like this.
He wasn't sure either, about her thoughts, or his feelings, but he felt optimistic. "Think about it. We had some good times, you and I." He lit two cigarettes and handed her one, and slid the ring box across her desk. "And not just in bed." He smiled at her, and walked out of Bon Temps, never looking back at her. He knew he had to leave it to her, and his lingering presence had the potential to sway her. He wanted her there because she needed to be, like he'd needed to give this one last shot.
She watched him go, waiting until he was at least a block down the road, by her estimation, before she broke down in tears, clutching the ring box tightly.
She'd failed once before, with Bill, and if the way things were going with Sam at this point, she wasn't sure things would be any different. At least with Eric, she knew what she was getting herself into, somewhat, and he'd never lied to her. They'd never had that kind of relationship, where he wasn't himself, in order to impress her. Trying with him, versus, trying with someone else. Those were her options.
He hadn't decided to go to Vegas until he bough the ring, and thought back to his dream about marrying her there. He'd had some companies interested in working with his firm, so he knew he'd have no problems securing meetings. He'd either enjoy it with her, or he'd enjoy it forgetting her. Those were the options, and he'd laid his cards out on the table, and now it was up to her. Feeling a bit lighter, he went about his work, secured appointments, and updated his rolodex with some Vegas contacts.
One Week Later...
He sat down in first class and ordered a scotch, stretching out and enjoying the excess of legroom. He hadn't heard from her, but he hadn't expected to either. She was either in Vegas, or she wasn't. That was how they'd left it.
She'd booked the ticket the day before, ignoring the excess extra charges that came with being so indecisive. She'd left a note for Sam, telling him that she was out of town on business, along with the name of the hotel that Eric's secretary told her that he was booked at. She had the feeling that he'd told her to pass the information on if anyone called, by her reaction to her on the phone.
Sam would be confused, but then when he thought about it, he wouldn't be, as she'd left her engagement ring on the note. There was no way that he thought things were going well, with her, and the growing space that grew along with her stomach, and he'd probably be relieved, in the long term, to be rid of her, at least that's what she told herself, as she frantically packed her suitcase with the best Vegas options she had to cover her growing body. She called her driver, and made it to the airport in record time, despite the poor weather conditions. She made it through the boarding gate just as the last call announcement went over the loudspeaker.
The only seat available was in coach. She never flew coach, but, as uncomfortable as it was going to be in her condition, she'd do it, if that was what it took. She walked through first class, knowing that was where Eric would sit, but she didn't notice him in the thirty seconds it took to pass through, before she was shuffled back with the masses. She wasn't even sure if he'd be on this flight. There were a couple each day.
She didn't see him until they were about twenty minutes from landing, and he walked past her on his way back from the bathroom. She felt a huge sigh of relief, as his eyes lit up when he saw her, and knew she'd made the right decision. "You came."
"I did."
"And you're sitting back here." He glanced at her, stuffed into her seat, an old man practically snoring on her shoulder.
"It was all that was available."
He smirked at her, knowing she'd waited until the last minute to make her decision, and reached over, and tapped the old man's shoulder. "Excuse me."
He stirred. "Yes?"
"Would you like to take my seat in first class? I'd like to sit with my fiancee."
The old man grumbled good naturedly, and made his way to first class, leaving his seat free. "You're going to be almost as uncomfortable here as I am." She slid over, leaving him the isle seat.
He reached over and squeezed her hand, twisting the engagement ring he'd given her on her finger. "A small price to pay for the company."
