Revelation

His eyes fluttered quickly. "What are you saying?"

"Exactly what I said," Miranda said.

"That… can't be," Ben argued deep down praying that she was right. "She's pregnant. I've seen her. I… we…" He paused. "Look, if she's seven months then, it's more than possible that the baby is mine."

She continued to swipe through the pictures avoiding eye contact. "That's just it. This baby is maaaybe five? Six at the most. Seven is a stretch." Ben stared at his girlfriend, his heart falling into his stomach. They didn't speak for a long time. Of course, it had crossed his mind that maybe the baby wasn't his, but for some reason, he could never bring himself to believe it. Within minutes, his thoughts of becoming a father were dashed and he felt sick. Miranda's hand on his reminded him to inhale. "Hey, how are you holding up, hon?"

He wanted to answer, but the words were caught in his throat. Never had he been so fucking mad. "I now understand the show 'Snapped'," he said. Miranda tried not to laugh but failed and, reluctantly, he joined in, calming himself the smallest bit. Ben rolled his neck and sighed. "Ugh!"

"I'm sorry, Ben."

He reached out and touched her face, stroking her cheek. She put her hands on top of his and kissed his palms. "Now what in the world do you have to be sorry for, huh?"

"For you. I know…" She paused for a brief moment. "I can understand how this make you feel." Ben gave her a smile. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he answered shaking his head. Ben started to get up and stopped, leaning toward his woman. Their foreheads met and he stared at her. Every fiber of him was in love with her and he wanted so badly to say what was in his heart. Instead, he asked: "Do you know how much I love you?"

"I may know something about it," she smiled placing her lips against his. They lay back, kissing softly until she burrowed into his body and fell asleep. When he woke up, he was alone on the couch. For most of the night, he'd stayed awake thinking of his next move. If what Miranda said was accurate, he had to do something. But his anger hadn't allowed him to fully think of a plan, so he had to force himself to sleep. Stretching, Ben got up and wandered toward Miranda's bedroom. He saw her sitting up in bed reading a book. Her entire face smiled when he walked in the room. "Good morning, handsome."

"Morning, beautiful." He sat on the edge of the bed, swinging his feet up. "You don't look like someone who wanted to kill me just a few hours ago."

She moved her hand in a waving motion. "Ebbs and flows." He nodded, grateful that she'd let him in her house and back into her arms and in her heart. "Do you know what you're going to do?"

"Yes." She closed her book, ready for elaborateness. "Well, first, I'm going to do this," he started, placing a kiss on her nose and then her lips. "Then, this." He climbed on top of her, tangling their bodies. His lips went to her neck and she moaned. "And perhaps a little of this." Gliding his hand to her thighs, he massaged them, feeling her legs open for him. Suddenly, she clamped them shut and locked eyes with him. "Yes?"

"Don't you have a call or two to make?"

He rolled his eyes and started to roll off of her, but she stopped him. "But I will be here when you finish."

"Right here?"

"More or less," she chuckled, scratching his back through his shirt. "Good luck."

"No advice?" Miranda raised a brow. "Benjamin Warren, what you need to do is…"

She laughed at his impression of her. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. You have to figure that out on your own."

He fell onto his back and blew air from his mouth. "Alright."

"Keep me posted."

"I promise I will," he said kissing her fingers before getting out of bed. At home, he took a shower and got dressed quickly. In his car, he called Ange and put her on speakerphone as he drove through town.

"I'm asleep."

"I'm sorry, but this is important. I'm coming to your house. I'll be there in like four minutes."

She cursed at him and ended the call. Ben ran up the stairs two at a time. Before he could knock on the door, Angela opened it. "Four minutes exactly. So, what's so important that I can't get some sleep?"

"The baby's not mine."

She started grinning. "I knew it! I'll get the champagne." She hugged him and walked to the kitchen. "Did the paternity test come back? Or did the little wench confess?"

"Don't call her that," he said with a knowing smile. "And neither."

"Then…?" Angela stopped her pouring. Ben inhaled deeply and ran down the story. "What the hell and what the fuck?" Brother and sister burst out laughing. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I wish people would stop asking me that because I don't know. That's why I'm here. Help me."

She shrugged. "Easy, go to your little fancy hospital and get the test done, you'd know in what…"

"A day," he answered. He gulped down the champagne. "And I probably wouldn't even be able to get her down there. I guess I'll just wait for the test for confirmation." Ange leaned on the table and Ben rubbed his eyes. "That bi—" Stopping himself, he took another sip of his drink.

"You're too much of a gentleman, so I'll say it. That bitch!"

"Angela…"

His sister clinked her glass with his. If there was one person he wanted his corner, it was his older sister. "She's a bitch. I don't know what you want me to say."

"Okay, fine." He stared off into space. "She really tried to trap me into a lifetime of raising another man's child."

"Almost got you, too. Once your name is on that birth certificate," she sighed, "DNA or not, that baby is yours."

Ben pulled out his phone and fiddled with it aimlessly, spinning it on the countertop. "And, I mean, I've heard of this happening to people, but I didn't think it could happen to me. I'm the good guy."

"That's precisely why brought you back into the picture." Angela shook her head. "And why you need to confront her. She knows the truth and all it'll take is some bullying." She sipped her drink. "I'll do it free of charge."

He shook his head keeping his laughter at bay as his phone beeped. "No, you won't. But—." He groaned. "Shoot, I have to go. They need all hands." He stood up. "And before you go and try to handle things yourself, don't, okay?" Ben pointed at her. "I'm serious."

They hugged again and he headed toward the hospital. Knox caught him after he changed into his scrubs. "Mass shooting on a college campus. At least 15 victims."

"Jesus," Ben said before speeding to the O.R. He didn't really remember the specifics of the surgery; he just knew that he was feeling awful. Everything around him seemed to be a mess. By the end of the day, he decided to push his ex-girlfriend out of his mind for the night. One more day of not knowing wouldn't hurt him. He texted Miranda only to find out that she was still at the hospital and would be there until the early hours of the morning. Sighing, he drove home where he fell asleep on his sofa, too tired to even make it to his room.

The next morning, Ben found himself lying in bed. He had a theory, if he didn't get out of it, if he didn't see or talk to anyone, then his day couldn't actually begin. Then, his life wasn't a walking OWN movie. The idea that Regina had lied to him was making him physically ill. Shivering, he pulled the covers back over his head and went to sleep. When he woke up a second time, he heard the TV on in his living room. That made him sit up.

He noticed that there was a plate with a couple of pieces of buttered toast as well as a small bottle of orange juice. Only one person would be so thoughtful. And by the sci-fi movie playing on the screen, he knew exactly who was here. Miranda. Walking to the sofa, he looked down to see his girlfriend softly cracking up, "That could never happen," she was saying. His smile widened. "Did you eat your toast?" The surgeon asked without turning around.

He shook his head. "No." Ben sat down next to her.

"And why not?"

"I'm not hungry."

"What's wrong?" He gave her a look and she smirked. "Besides that."

"I just really don't feel well."

Miranda put the back of her hand to his forehead. "You do feel kind of warm." He nodded as she dropped her feet to the floor standing up. "Okay, back to bed you go."

"But I need to—" The glare in her eyes and the cockiness of her brow made him stop talking. "I'm going. I'm going." A look of satisfaction passed over her face. "Where's Tuck?"

"He was with me, but I had Tucker pick him up."

"Why?"

"Because, Benjamin Warren, I hadn't heard from you in a while. And I actually missed you."

They got into bed. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know." He held the small plate in his hand, taking a bite of the bread. "Oh! That's probably cold now. I can make you some more." She asked already starting to get out of bed.

Ben reached out to stop her. "This is perfect, Miranda. Thank you." Laying back down, she moved as far away from him as she could. "Stop," he chuckled. "I'm not contagious."

"I do not want your germs," she laughed, her face contorting beautifully.

He put down his plate and picked up the bottle of orange juice from his nightstand. "It's more psychological and emotional than anything."

"You act like you're some kind of doctor," she told him with a wink.

"Kick me while I'm down, why don't you."

She touched the side of his face and he blushed like he often did. The simplest things she did could send him into a small frenzy. "I'm sorry, hon."

Ben read her face. "You're not, are you?"

Miranda pulled her bottom lip between his lips. "Not even a little bit."

"How was your surgery?"

Her eyes closed and she inhaled. "The amount of pain they'll be in for the foreseeable future and… and the amount of therapy that kid will need really makes me… it makes me furious." When she opened her eyes again, they were watery. The urge to wipe her face was overpowered by the need for her to know that it was okay to cry; he watched them fall, helpless. "It makes me not want to send Tuck to school."

Nodding was all he could think to do as he held her, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. "I know it's tough, but you are such a good mom, a great mom. And I am utterly in awe of you."

Her eyes darted as she struggled to sit in the compliment. But it was so true. He'd be a lucky man if someday they decided to have children. If someday their lives became more entwined than they already were. Hopefully, she felt the same. "Thank you, Ben."

"Of course, babe." At some point, he fell asleep, peacefully, but pounding on his door jerked him from his sleep. His head spun and the only thing that seemed to soothe his pain was holding it, his palms pressing into his temples. The knocking continued. "Go away!" Ben called out, though he knew the person behind the door couldn't hear him.

The voice next to him roused: "Is that the door?" He looked over to see Miranda pulling off her headphones. Her face was like a breath of fresh air, almost curing his headache. But the knocking.

"It is, but why are they knocking like that?" He asked pushing the covers off. It felt like his torso was trapped in cement the way he was moving so slowly.

"Stay put, old man. I'll get it," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm falling apart at the seams," he laughed.

Miranda touched his forehead again, dropping it to his chin briefly and he pressed his lips to her palm. She blushed and his spine tingled. The knocking continued. "Maybe it's Knox?"

"Send him away please?" She nodded. "Thanks, babe."

"And think about what you might want to eat," she said over her shoulder, exiting the room and leaving the door wide open.

Their tones were extremely low and he had to actively strain to hear the conversation. "Can I help you?"

"Is Ben here?" The voice that answered made that tingly feeling in his spine turn to stone. He tried to peel himself from the bed, but he couldn't. His body felt so heavy.

"He is," Miranda answered simply. He smirked to himself.

"Well, tell him that I'm here."

"Yeah, I'm not going to do that. He's not feeling well. Who should I say stopped by?"

"Me? Who the hell are you?" Before Miranda could answer, Regina said: "Wait… I know who you are. You're the girlfriend. Merida."

"Miranda."

"That's what I said."

Miranda cleared her throat. "And you are?"

"You're seriously going to tell me that you don't know who I am?"

High-key, Ben wished he were watching the entire thing play out. He imagined Miranda with a satisfied, but disgustingly polite smile on her face, her head slightly tilted. "Uh, am I supposed to?"

A familiar "hmmph!" came from Regina. "I'm the woman carrying his child."

"Oh, I did hear something about that," Miranda said. "That's lovely." The snark in her voice could be sensed a mile away.

Ben finally got the energy to get up. He didn't want or need Miranda or anyone else for that matter to fight his battles for him. At the front, the scene was j.1ust as he thought; Miranda was standing confidently and slightly unbothered with both hands on the still open door as if ready to usher Regina back out of it. Regina was a foot or two into his apartment, her pregnant belly leading the way. "Regina?"

"I need to talk to you," she said rushing to him, grabbing his hands.

Ben stepped back. "Okay," he said crossing his arms, waiting.

"In private. Can you get your bodyguard?" Over her shoulder, he saw Miranda's eyes turn to slits.

"Regina, stop please. I have a migraine. Seriously," he told her. "And whatever you need to say, you can say in front of both of us." Ben looked from Regina, back to Miranda who shifted her jaw.

His girlfriend took a deep breath and licked her lips. "No. I'll just go. It's not a big deal."

"You're sure?" He walked to her and kissed her forehead somewhat glad that she didn't have to witness whatever Regina was about to do or say.

She nodded. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm sure there's plenty for you two to, uh, discuss."

"Thank you, baby."

They stood by the door as Miranda left. He was just about to suggest that they sit when Regina walked by him. "Well, aren't you two cute playing house and things?" She said easing onto the sofa.

"We're not playing at anything," he said defensively. Relaxing, he sat on the arm of the long sofa. "So, what's up, Regina?" He asked casually though his stomach was in turmoil. He wanted to accuse her of lying to him, but he also needed to find a delicate way in. Maybe he was too nice. "Because it's actually funny that you're here. I need to talk to you."

"Really?" She asked sounding hopeful. "Well, can I go first?"

"Floor's yours." Ben ran a hand over his head and looked at his ex-girlfriend wondering if he'd wasted too much time with her, shortening his time with Miranda.

"I know I should have called, but…" He rubbed his eyes, silently agreeing. "I just wanted to tell you…"

"Yeah?"

"The… the baby..."

His heart spun. "Is everything okay?" Even if the kid wasn't his, he didn't wish harm on the innocent child.

Regina nodded quickly. "Yeah, nothing like that, just—"

His phone rang. "Hold on a second?" He asked jumping up and not waiting for her to answer. He found his phone next to Miranda's headphones and saw that she was calling. His lips pulled into a smile. "Hey, baby."

"Is she gone?"

"Uh, not yet."

She sighed. "Don't think because I kept my cool that I'm not feeling murderous."

"She's pregnant, Miranda," he chuckled.

"I'm talking about you," she said and he knew she was smiling—could hear it through the phone.

He grinned. "Ebbs and flows?"

"Exactly." The two of them laughed and he just wanted to crawl back into bed, talking to her until she returned. "I'll see you soon."

On his way out of the room, he saw Tylenol on his dresser. He thought about taking some but realized that he didn't need any. "Sorry, about that," he said going into the living room to see that like his headache, Regina was gone. Ben sat down and gathered his thoughts about he'd say to her. Pulling out his phone, Ben called her and got her voicemail.

"Hey, this is Regina. I can't answer the phone right now. Text me if it's sooo important."

Beeep! "Um, where did you go? What did you have to tell me? Whatever it is…" He stopped talking. "Um, anyway, I still need to talk to you. I'll call you back later." Ending the call, he cursed. The door opened and Miranda waltzed in like she owned the place. And he wished that she did—that they did. Her head swiveled. "It's just me."

"Oh?" He nodded. "What, um… what did you two talk about?"

He took the bag from her hands and followed her into the kitchen, her hips swinging, tempting him. "Nothing. You called and when we hung up, she'd left."

"That's odd."

"Yeah, it is," he said sitting the paper bag down. "But enough about that… what did you get?" Miranda raised her brows. "What?"

She moved toward him like a black mamba, attacking his neck with kisses. Ben groaned and wrapped his arms around her squeezing her like a python, feeling so possessive. No one could handle her curves like he could. Could make her relent with soft, seemingly nonexistent kisses to her face. His lips found her bottom lip moistening it and biting it gently, knowing that it was turning her on. "Ben…" He didn't answer; he had too much work to do. "W-wait… how are you feeling? How's your headache?"

"What headache?" He asked as they sank to the floor.