“Would me getting pregnant again be such a terrible thing?”
I reached over and stroked her cheek. “I can’t go through that again, Shelby. Seeing what you went through. Knowing if we didn’t have such a skillful doctor, things could have been different. I will never risk you. Ever. This is my responsibility, and I am handling it.”
She smiled. “I love you.”
“Good. I hope you still love me if he slips and damages my dick in any way.”
She winked. “You still have fingers. And a tongue. I think we’ll manage.”
I returned her smile, the silence falling between us. I studied her hand. Her rings caught the light, the wide band of diamonds setting off my nan’s antique ring. I loved seeing it on her hand, and knowing she was mine. Forever.
If I survived this procedure.
The sweating started again.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “Someone turned up the heat again.”
Shelby rolled her eyes. “Relax, Liam. Everything is gonna be fine.”
“You aren’t the one having your junk rearranged.”
She snorted quietly. “My vagina sympathizes.”
I began to laugh. She was right and had already been through enough. I hadn’t squeezed two humans out of my body in the span of a year. I was just getting a simple procedure. It was fine. I was cool, and all was good.
Then the doctor walked in, and I passed out.
I woke up to Shelby’s worried expression and the doctor’s impatient frown.
“Really, Mr. Wright. A little over the top, I would say.”
“He’s nervous.” Shelby defended me.
“Not necessary. You’ll be walking out of here in twenty minutes, Mr. Wright. Cock intact, unlike your dignity. You ready?”
Bloody hell, he was a right miserable bastard. And my head hurt from smacking it on the wall as I collapsed in the chair. But I wasn’t going to let him know that.
I stood. “Ready.” I bent and kissed Shelby. “We’ll always have Scotland,” I said with a wink. “Remember me in a kilt.”
She laughed. “I’ll be right here.”
It took everything in me not to ask if she could stand beside me and hold my hand. A strange man was already going to be manhandling my balls. I needed to maintain some sort of composure. My dignity, as I had been informed, was long gone.
I really should have taken the valium they offered. I wondered if it was too late, and then Dr. Buckley turned to me. “Now, Mr. Wright. I don’t have all day.”
I guessed I had my answer.
I shivered in the procedure room. Whoever had been playing with the thermostat was at it again. It was fucking freezing. As I sat on the table, my ass was frozen, and I felt the goose bumps rising on my skin, the gown they put me in not helping against the cold. The nurse, a pretty Asian American lady named Ren, bustled around, making sure Dr. Buckley had everything he needed to kill me—I mean perform the simple, everyday procedure that would result in minimal discomfort for me.
Jesus, I wanted Shelby.
Dr. Buckley walked in, wearing a mask, gown, and gloved up. I swallowed hard.
Shit was about to get real. This was my last chance to escape. Condoms weren’t so bad. I eyed the door, calculating my chances.
Except the pretty nurse proved to be exceptionally strong and pushed me down on the table.
“You lie down for snip snip,” she sang.
I grasped the edge of the thin vinyl pad that passed for a mattress. I twisted the sheet, holding it tight. Dr. Buckley sat at the end of the table, talking to Ren. He arranged the draping, the cold air hitting my balls, making me shiver more. He muttered something which made Ren chuckle as she lifted her eyes to mine. I was pretty sure they were talking about my junk. I felt the need to defend myself.
“It’s cold in here,” I snapped. “Shrinkage, you know.”
Buckley snorted, muttering something about egos, and Ren laughed. Then they fell silent in preparation.
What happened next was torture that went on for hours. Or fifteen minutes when I checked the clock. But it was horrendous.
The blade being drawn across my scrotum was slow and scary. The Betadine on my balls was like being dunked in a vat of ice, and I squealed at the cold.
Ren rolled her eyes.
The “pinch and burn” of the anesthetic was more like an explosion of agony in my balls, the fire hot enough it should have done the job the surgeon was determined to take care of.
I groaned, grabbing the foam mattress hard in order not to launch myself off and run like hell. I could picture the headline—
“Actor Liam Wright caught streaking on Hollywood Boulevard, his ass hanging from an open johnny gown as his balls slapped and twisted in the wind. He was blubbering and screaming about saving his junk as he was hauled away to the loony bin.”
Then blissful numbness set in, and I relaxed a little. But all too soon, it felt as if Dr. Buckley was trying to pull a kidney down through my nutsac.
“Did I request my inner organs get moved?” I yelped. “I’m not paying extra for that service,” I informed them.
“Part of the procedure,” he muttered, pulling harder. “Damn and blast, if our health care wasn’t so fucked up, we could do this in a hospital with you knocked out. Damn government and their cutbacks.”
“Is it easier?” I gasped, trying not to move in case he got pissier.
“For me, it is,” he snarled. “Then you’d be quiet.”
“God, you’re a grumpy bugger,” I muttered.
He glanced up. “You would be too if you stared at dicks all day.”
I had to give him that one.
Finally, after years and years, it was over.
He stood, stripping off his gloves. “Stay there for a few minutes. Then Ren will help you up, and you can go.”
“How long should I stay in bed to recover?”
He snorted. “That depends on you. Nothing strenuous, no sex for a while. A bag of peas or an ice pack will help the ache. I’ll give you some painkillers to take if you need them. A couple of days, you’ll be fine. There will be a recovery instruction sheet with your prescription.” He paused in the doorway. “My wife, Mary, is a fan. Leave an autograph.”
I stared at his retreating form, grateful Mary liked me. Lord only knows what he might have done if she hadn’t.
Then I snorted internally at his words. A couple of days? I was pretty sure I would need at least a week to get over this.
Maybe more.
At home, I eased onto the sofa in the den with a groan.
“Do you need some pain meds?” Shelby asked, running her hand along my head. I sighed and leaned into her caress. It felt good.
“Yeah,” I pouted. “It hurts.” It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared, but I didn’t want to tell her that. I wanted her to spoil me. I loved it when Shelby spoiled me.
“I’ll get the ice too.”
“Okay. And, Shelby?”
“Yes?”
“I’m hungry. I couldn’t eat before, and now I’m starving. Did you-did you cook turkey like you promised?”
Her voice was amused. “Yes.”
I opened my eyes and met her gaze. “Could I have a sandwich?”
“Yes.”
“Any, ah, chance you made cupcakes? I think I need a little sugar.”
“Of course you do.”
Everett walked in. “How are you feeling?”
Shelby left the den as I started telling him of the horrific morning I’d had. I knew he’d understand. And he did, covering his dick with a wince as I told him of the procedure.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “How long you down for?”
I laid my head back. “Days and days, I think.”
Shelby came in, carrying a tray. She slid it onto the table and handed me a bag of peas. “Nice try, Liam. I’ll give you two. This will help.”
I glanced at the label. “Organic peas?”
She smirked. “Only the best for OJ, Liam.”
/> “Damn straight, woman.”
The cold was heaven, dulling the ache my testicles felt. The painkillers took care of the rest of the discomfort. The sandwich filled the emptiness of my stomach, and the cupcakes were a welcome bonus.
After eating, I went to bed, and my mum carried in my weans. Olivia lay on my chest, a warm weight I welcomed. Adam snuggled into my side, and soon, they were both asleep.
Shelby moved around our room, tidying and humming as she went. The sound of her voice, the scent of her closeness eased me, and with a sigh, I realized it was over. I had survived the procedure. All in all, I handled it really well.
Shelby laughed softly, leaning over the bed, stroking my hair.
“Yep. Really well, Mr. Florida.”
I chuckled with her, comprehending the fact that I had spoken my thoughts out loud. I was a rambling git who liked to mutter his thoughts out loud when drunk or slightly stoned. I always had been, always would be, and yet, she still loved me. I was the luckiest bastard in the world.
She cupped my cheek. “I do, Liam. I really do.”
That was all I cared about.
“I love you, Shelby.” I captured her hand in mine and kissed it. “I really love you.”
She smiled. “I know.”
I patted the bed. “Join us.”
She nestled beside Adam, resting her hand on my chest. I sighed in contentment, listening as her breathing became deep and even.
I laid my head back and joined my family in sleep.
Acknowledgments
As always, I have some people to thank.
The ones behind the words that encourage and support. The people who make my books possible for so many reasons.
Beth, Trina, Melissa and Jess -
thank you for your feedback and support.
Carrie, Ayden, Jeannie, Freya -
I love you and am honored to call you friends.
You humble me.
Deb and Peggy -
thank you for your support and keen eyes.
Lisa - your humor as always makes the red strokes of your pen easier to handle.
Thank you for your patience and the “gentle” lessons you give me.
I will learn them one day—but not today.
Okay let’s face it—probably never. You are stuck with me.
Melissa - thank you for the beautiful covers and teasers.
Karen, my dear friend and PA. I am so grateful for you. For your friendship—
For having you with me on this journey.
For the laughter, the tears, and the shared moments—
I love you.
Thank you.
To all the bloggers, readers, and
especially my promo team -
Thank you for everything you do.
Shouting your love of books—of my work—posting, sharing—your recommendations keep my TBR list full, and the support you have shown me is so appreciated.
To my fellow authors who have shown me such kindness, thank you. I will follow your example and pay it forward.
My reader group, Melanie’s Minions—
love you all.
And always, my Matthew.
You are my world.
My beginning and my end.
My everything.
Other books by Melanie Moreland
Vested Interest Series
BAM - The Beginning (Prequel)
Bentley (Vested Interest #1)
Aiden (Vested Interest #2)
Maddox (Vested Interest #3)
Reid (Vested Interest #4)
Van (Vested Interest #5)
Halton (Vested Interest #6)
Sandy (Vested Interest #7)
Vested Interest Box Set (Books 1-3)
Insta-Spark Collection
It Started with a Kiss
Christmas Sugar
An Instant Connection
An Unexpected Gift
The Contract Series
The Contract (Contract #1)
The Baby Clause (Contract #2)
The Amendment (Contract #3)
Standalones
Into the Storm
Beneath the Scars
Over the Fence
My Image of You (Random House/Loveswept)
Changing Roles
About the Author
New York Times/USA Today/Wall Street Journal, international bestselling author, Melanie Moreland, lives a happy and content life in a quiet area of Ontario with her beloved husband of thirty plus years and their rescue cat, Amber. Nothing means more to her than her friends and family, and she cherishes every moment spent with them.
While seriously addicted to coffee, and highly challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties, and enjoys travelling—here and abroad—but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip.
Melanie loves stories, especially paired with a good wine, and enjoys skydiving (free falling over a fleck of dust) extreme snowboarding (falling down the stairs) and piloting her own helicopter (tripping over her own feet). She's learned happily ever afters, even bumpy ones, are all in how you tell the story.
Melanie is represented by Flavia Viotti at Bookcase Literary Agency. For any questions regarding subsidiary or translation rights please contact her at [email protected]
Connect with Melanie
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Changing Roles Page 29