by J. Daniels
“Luke!”
I set the empty bottle on the dresser. Then I rip the towel off and toss it on the bed, pulling on a pair of basketball shorts as Tessa follows me out into the room.
“Why the fuck would you say something like that to me?” I growl, stopping her a few feet away. “What if I said something like that to you? How many kids would you have by now? How’s that fuckin’ feel?”
She blinks, her mouth working soundlessly. “How would I have kids? I’m the problem . . .”
“Who told you that you’re the problem?”
“I just know it’s me.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t fuckin’ know. That test today proved there’s nothing wrong with you. It could be me—have you thought about that?”
“It’s not you. Your sperm is fine.”
“Yeah, and your tubes are fine. Your everything is fuckin’ fine. And you’re still sayin’ something’s wrong with one of us, right? Well, guess what, there’s a fifty/fifty shot it’s me.” I jab at my chest. “What if I’m the problem? And you’ll never get pregnant `cause of me . . .”
She adjusts the towel around her, securing it above her breasts. “I’m sorry,” she says, briefly looking down before meeting my eyes again. She looks miserable. “I don’t know why I asked you that . . . I’m just frustrated and really fucked up because of today. I’m really sorry.” She sniffles and quickly wipes at her cheeks.
“We gotta be good with just us, `cause it could be just us, Tessa, forever. And I told you, a million fuckin’ times—I’m good with that.”
“I know . . . I would be good with it too, but I would still be sad sometimes.” Her voice trembles. “Because I know this is something you want, and you would have to give it up for me.”
“I would give it up for us. Quit actin’ like it’s just you . . . it isn’t just you going through this. You know that, right?”
“I never said it was just me.” She pauses for a breath. “I mean, yeah, it feels that way sometimes. I have to go through more than you . . .”
“There it is.” I shake my head.
“What?” Her eyes harden. “I do. What have you had to do, Luke? Jerk off into a cup? What a hardship.”
My nostrils flare.
“I don’t remember having an orgasm during the three ultrasounds I’ve had when they shoved that giant wand inside me, or today when again, I’m spread open while someone pokes around in there. I don’t get off when I get my blood drawn or when I’m swallowing those giant horse pills to make me ovulate like a champ. Everything I’ve had to do has been uncomfortable. Some of it has hurt. Some of it has made me cry, like today. And you can’t even be there for me . . .” Her eyes pinch shut. She punches her thigh. “Fuck! I’m not mad because you weren’t there today, I didn’t mean that.”
“You sure about that?”
Tessa glares at me. “Don’t. I’ve never had a problem with your job.”
“But you wish I would’ve been there.” I bring my arms across my chest.
“Of course. It sucked hearing that news alone.”
“It’s good news.” I watch her expression gentle. “I know you’re not happy about it, but I sure as fuck am.”
“I needed something we could fix. Something to be mad at—”
“It’s me. Be mad at me.”
Tessa slowly shakes her head.
“I won’t let this come between us,” I tell her, speaking louder now. “I’ll stop it first.”
“What does that mean?”
“This—all this fightin’ we’re doin’, how stressed this shit has got us . . . mainly you. It’s fuckin’ you up, babe.”
“I can handle it, Luke.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. It never happens.”
Her eyes flick wider.
“We never have kids,” I continue on. “Never get another dog or any other pets. It’s just me and you . . . in this big fuckin’ house, all alone. Forever.”
Like someone flipped a switch, she immediately falls apart.
Her hand comes up to cover her mouth as big, fat tears roll down her cheeks.
“Yeah, you can handle it,” I mumble, going to her. I pull Tessa into my arms.
“I’m sorry,” she cries, clutching at me. Burying her face in my chest. “I love you. I love you so much . . . I could never be with anyone else. I don’t want to be.”
“Me either.”
“I’d never let this come between us, Luke. I love you.” She tips her head up and kisses me. Her tears wet my lips. “I love you,” she whispers. “You’re the only thing that matters to me. I don’t want to go any further if there’s a chance it’ll tear us apart. I’ll stop it too.”
“We won’t let it tear us apart.”
Again, we kiss.
I stroke my tongue against hers and pull back to suck on her lip.
Tessa wiggles her hand between us and undoes her towel. It hits the floor at our feet.
“Luke,” she gasps, arching into me when I palm her ass.
“Babe, if this hurts . . .”
“It won’t. Do it.”
I lift her, and she snakes her legs around my waist. I carry her over to the bed.
I’m slower this time than I was in the shower, and I never close my eyes. I watch Tessa move beneath me, and she watches me, mouth open and breathless moans passing between us. No words are spoken but so many are said in the way I look at her. In my touch as it moves tenderly over her body.
I don’t grip her like I’m desperate, but I love her desperately. It’s the only way I know how.
I lick the tears from her face. I hold her hands above her head, her fingers linked with mine, and press the blunt edge of my wedding ring into her hand. I come seconds after she does, waiting for that moment to tell her, “I’m not losing you again. I love you.”
She stares up at me, tracing the outline of my lips. “Maybe we take a break from all the baby stuff and just, wait a couple months. Let things calm down a little . . .”
“Might be smart. We’ve been pretty fuckin’ busy with this shit.”
Her lip twitches. “Well, it’s important shit, but it has been a lot on us.”
“Can’t argue that.”
“I’m supposed to start those pills again after my next period. We can wait to start them . . . that way I’m not going for bloodwork and taking my temperature every day.”
“You good with that?”
Tessa nods, linking her arms around my neck. “I have you. Of course, I’m good.”
I pull in a deep breath. “And if you always just have me? You’re still gonna be good?”
“I’ll be so fucking happy, I promise.”
No hesitation. None.
Fuck, I’m so in love with this woman.
I bend down and kiss her. “Told you we’d be fightin’ and then comin’ to an agreement.”
She smiles against my mouth. “Fightin’. Fuckin’. Then the agreement.”
“Shocked I forgot the fuckin’ part.”
“Me too. Are you feeling okay?”
We laugh together.
“I love you,” she says.
I turn my head and kiss her palm. “Do you want to talk about getting another dog? `Cause I don’t need one. I miss Max, and I know you miss him, but I don’t want to feel like we’re replacing him, you know?” I watch her smile soften. She nods, agreeing with me. “Rescuing one might be cool though,” I add.
“There’s so many that get treated bad or abandoned. It makes me so sad.”
“We could look. If it doesn’t feel right, we don’t need to do it. There’s no rush.”
“And if it isn’t right, and it’s just us in this big house, we’re good.”
“Yeah.” I drop lower, kissing her, and fuck, it feels good doing this. And knowing we’re together no matter what happens. Knowing she’s with me . . . that she’ll always be with me.
Nothing feels better than that.
Two Weeks L
ater
“OKAY. WE ARE fed, changed, and ready to snuggle,” Beth announces, descending the stairs carrying little Layla in her arms. “And she’s awake too. I feel like every time you stop over, you catch her taking a nap.”
I smile at Reed and Beth’s daughter when she peers over her shoulder at me.
“I finally get to see those pretty blue eyes everyone keeps telling me about.” I hold my arms out as Beth maneuvers around the couch in her living room. “Lord, she’s too cute to be related to Reed.”
Beth passes her off, smiling. “She looks just like him.”
“Yeah, she does.” Sitting back on the couch, I balance Layla so she’s seated in my lap, her bare feet pressing against my stomach.
Her light blonde hair is curling a little now. It’s the same shade as Reed’s, and so pretty against her fair skin, which seems to be the only trait she inherited from Beth. She has her daddy’s pale blue eyes and thin, expressive lips.
Layla smiles at me, half of her mouth lifting up, like she’s keeping some big, juicy secret all to herself.
That is Reed Tennyson’s smile. Wow.
I look over at Beth where she’s seated at the opposite end of the couch.
Her raven hair is pinned up at the top of her head, and those big, brown eyes are glued to Layla, watching her every move.
“I know you endured seven hours of labor, but aside from her skin tone, you have zero claim to this child, Beth.”
She shifts her gaze to meet mine, laughing quietly. “I’m okay with that,” she says.
“She’s so tiny.”
“She’s four months old today.”
“Is she?” I put my attention on Layla again after Beth nods. “Four months and you’re still this little? I think baby Beau is bigger than you.”
“Oh, my God, right? He’s so long.”
Beau Kelly. My newest nephew decided to start his badass reign nine days ahead of schedule, surprising us all in the middle of the night.
Already setting his own rules and stressing out his parents. God, I love it.
“How are you doing?” Beth asks, giving me a soft, sympathetic look of understanding when I glance over at her.
There aren’t any secrets inside our circle of friends. Everyone knows each other’s struggles in this crew. And my struggles have been the topic of discussion lately.
“Good,” I answer. “Better.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not as tense as I was, and I’m not worrying about every little thing. I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”
I knew I was stressing out about the whole pregnancy thing, but I had no idea just how much I was letting it fuck me up until Luke and I decided to take a break from it.
Then it became clear—I was obsessing over everything.
What I did and how I did it and what I ate . . . am I having too much dairy? Should I go gluten-free? Am I not eating enough gluten? Fuck. Things that probably had zero effect on getting pregnant, it didn’t matter, I wondered about it.
Am I exercising enough? Am I exercising too much? Am I getting enough sleep every night? Is my shower water too hot? What if I cook all my eggs? Should I cut back on my caffeine intake? Are we having enough sex? Too much sex? The right sex? Should we stick with missionary only? Is there a better time of day to conceive?
I. Stressed. Over. Everything. I let it get out of control.
Well, not anymore. I’m making a huge effort to stay as Zen about this as possible now, and even though I still think about getting pregnant every day and want a baby so, so badly, I feel like I can actually take a breath without worrying I’m doing it wrong.
“We needed this break,” I tell her. “Good news wasn’t even good news anymore. I couldn’t get out of my head and relax for one freaking second. Plus, I was picking fights with Luke. I was so close to suggesting he leave and go find a wife who isn’t broken.”
“Tessa.” Beth frowns at me. I don’t think I’ve seen her ever look so sad before.
“I don’t think that anymore. It was just the headspace I was in.”
“That’s a terrible thing to think . . . I hate that you felt that way.”
I shrug. “Stress sucks. What can I say?” When Layla makes an adorable little cooing sound, I smile at her. “And let’s be real—I could never sit back and watch Luke Evans be with anyone else. You’ve seen him, right? Four months old, but you get it. You know what I’m talking about.”
Layla gives me that wily half-smile again.
She gets it.
A phone rings in the distance, drawing Beth to her feet.
“It’s going to happen for you guys,” she says. “One way or the other. I know it will. I can feel it.”
I watch Beth pad out of the living room and disappear into the kitchen. Turning my head, I give Layla my attention again, and slide her down my legs, getting her closer to me.
“Your mom is pretty amazing. I kinda love her. And . . . don’t say anything to him because God knows, his head is already big enough, but your dad is pretty okay too.”
Layla bats at my mouth with her tiny hand, feeling my lips move when I tell her, “You’re a lucky little girl with parents like that. And they’re so lucky to have you. Do you know that, you pretty little peanut?”
I nibble at her fingers until she giggles.
Beth returns after taking her phone call, and we chat more about Layla and life, the upcoming wedding between Riley and CJ, and when Beth thinks she’ll be returning to work (maybe in another month. She’s not in any rush.) When Layla slumps against my chest, rubs her face into my shirt and starts fussing at nothing in particular, I pass her off to Beth so she can lay her down for a nap. Then I say my goodbyes to them both.
As I step outside, Reed’s truck pulls into the driveway.
He parks beside my car and hops down out of that lifted monster wearing his work clothes. Jeans covered in construction site dirt and a Tennyson Construction tee.
“Hey,” I greet him when I walk over. “This is early for you, isn’t it? It’s barely three o’clock.”
“Yeah, but I finished up ahead of schedule today,” he says, pushing his hair out of his sun-kissed face. He tips his chin at the house. “Were you visiting Layla?”
I nod. “Beth just put her down for a nap.”
“Damn,” he mumbles. “I was hoping to play with her.”
I smile at him.
For a man who used to sleep his way around Ruxton, Alabama and avoid the very word relationship, Reed sure settled into the husband/father role with exceptional ease.
“I’m heading out,” I share. “I gotta stop over at the hospital before I go grocery shopping.”
“Are you turning in your work shit, or is this baby related?”
“Work shit. I told you, we’re taking a break from that.”
“Hey.”
I pause when I reach the hood of Reed’s truck and peer back at him. “What?”
“You doing all right?” He watches me carefully as he moves closer.
Reed is like my other brother. We joke around a lot, and our conversations are hardly ever serious, but we’re also always there for each other.
Besides Mia, he’s the longest friend I’ve ever had.
I nod. “I’m good.”
Reed stops when he gets next to me, those crystal blue eyes moving over my face, like he’s searching for something. “How long have we been best friends?” he asks.
I scoff. “Too fucking long.”
His mouth twitches. Leaning down, he looks harder until I shove against his chest, backing him off. Then he gives me that smile I just spent the past hour watching his daughter give me. “Yeah, you’re good,” he concludes.
“Thanks. I didn’t just say that.” I elbow his side.
He puts me in a headlock and messes up my hair until I twist his nipple through his shirt.
“Fuck! All right!” He rubs at his chest, grimacing.
I cackle with my head tipped back.
God, I love this idiot.
We move around the truck together, splitting off once we clear it.
I call out to Reed when he’s nearly at the porch. “Hey! You make cute kids, Reed. Who would’ve thought?”
“I own a mirror—I would’ve thought.” He smirks over his shoulder. “And I’m about to go make some more.”
I fake dry heave.
Reed’s loud laughter follows him into the house.
Dropping off my transcriptions with the doctor I work for takes all of two minutes.
I don’t talk to anyone. The most I do is wave at the faces I see once a week when I stop in at St. Joseph’s Hospital. And since Dr. Willis is typically always occupied with patients, I leave my pile of work for him on his desk. We never even speak.
Which is what I prefer. I hear enough of his muffled voice in my ear. I don’t need face-time with the man. I’m good.
As I’m riding the elevator back down to the hospital lobby, I smile at the image on my phone—a close-up shot of Beau, which Mia just sent me.
He’s asleep in the picture, snuggled up in a blanket like an adorable burrito, only his little head sticking out. With dark brown hair and full lips, Beau is the perfect combination of Ben and Mia. He even has the signature Kelly dimples sinking in his cheeks when he makes a certain face.
I’m so in love with him already.
Give that Hellraiser a kiss for me!
I send my text and step out of the elevator when the doors slide open.
I’m nearly to the lobby exit when the smell of coffee turns my head and slows my steps. The new sign advertising the Strawberry Frappuccino as the ‘Perfect Summer Drink’ draws my eye.
Mm. I’ll be the judge of that.
Instead of moving through the doors, I veer to the right and file in behind a group of women dressed in hospital scrubs.
I admire the pictures of Beau in my texts from Mia while I wait my turn in line. The ones of just him, and of Nolan and Chase hovering close and watching him carefully, the selfie Mia took with her face beside Beau’s, and the sweet, sleeping photo of Ben cradling his newest son.
So fucking cute.
When the line moves ahead, I glance up from my phone and step forward, staying with the group. Before my eyes return to the screen, they sweep the small sitting area beside the coffee bar.