Conception (The Wellingtons, #4)

by Tessa Teevan

“You met at the lake,” I remind her.

  Amused, green eyes meet mine. “That’s true. But we kept most of that to ourselves. If we hadn’t, you two wouldn’t have had this silly rivalry. So I’ll spare some of the details, but I want you to know that, even though your father wasn’t there through my pregnancy, we both loved each other very much. We were just too stubborn to admit it.”

  Charlie and Ariana burst into laughter. Mom’s knowing smile is equally irritating.

  “Not sure what’s so fucking funny,” Knox mutters.

  “Language, dear,” Mom admonishes.

  “I’m thirty-fucking-four, Ma. If I haven’t learned to censor myself by now, I’m never going to.”

  Charlie laughs even harder, bending over and holding her stomach when her husband glares at her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s so obvious where the two of you get your stubborn streaks. Not just your dad, but your mom, too.” She lifts up, pushing her hair back behind her ears, and forcing her shoulders to stop shaking. “Amelia, Ari, Andi, and I haven’t heard the story. We’d love to.”

  As much as I want to protest, it’s nice to see a smile on my mom’s face. It’s a welcome distraction. Even though the last thing I want to hear about is how I was conceived, I have three of my own. It’s not exactly a surprise.

  “Sure, Mom. Let’s hear it.”

  Knox lets out a groan. It ceases immediately when Charlie shoots daggers at him. He clears his throat. “Yeah, Ma. Let’s hear how this little shit came to be.”

  “Asshole,” I mouth.

  “Prick,” he silently shoots back.

  We share a grin, which slowly turns to horror as Mom launches into the first time she saw Dad.

  The story doesn’t get better from here.

  For Knox and me anyway.

  The girls? They’re hanging on to every word Mom says, sighing, squealing, and blushing with dreamy expressions on each one of their faces.

  I hate every second of it.

  Yet I love it. This is my family. Good, bad, ugly, beautiful. We’re a tight-knit bunch, and even though it took a long time for us to get here, we always will be.

  So, if I have to sit in a hospital waiting room wondering if I’m about to lose my father—the man I’d looked up to more than anything, the same man I’d lost once before—they’re the perfect distraction.

  They say that, when you’re on the brink of death, your life flashes before your eyes. Why didn’t they tell us that the same happens when you’re on the verge of losing the love of your life, your soulmate, the person who gives you meaning to live?

  Ever since Knox collapsed, I’ve been in a fog. In the agonizing hours waiting for news—any news—I’ve done nothing but remember every single moment of our lives together. From the first time I saw him to the first time we made love. To my first heartbreak from his leaving.

  Telling my boys and their wives our story—censored, of course—has been a welcome distraction among the chaos and terror waging within me.

  A hand—Branson’s—squeezes mine just as the door creaks open. My youngest, my not-so-baby baby, Cohen, stands in the doorway. Cohen, the usually happy-go-lucky goofball with a silly grin on his face. But right now, there’s no grin. Dark circles rim bloodshot eyes, and I can’t read his expression.

  Branson rises beside me, bringing me with him in a gentle manner. His hand slips around my waist, and I cling to his arm, thankful my firstborn is keeping me afloat. From across the room, my middle and Knox’s namesake clears his throat.

  “Coh?” he grunts.

  Cohen’s shoulders fall and I don’t know how to read that. Then his eyes lift to mine.

  “He made it through surgery. Mom, he’s going to be okay.”

  I nearly collapse, but Branson catches me before I do.

  “Can we see him?” Knox asks, his gruff tone even scratchier than usual.

  “Not yet, but soon. They’re getting him comfortable in his room and want to monitor him for a bit. As soon as visitors are allowed, I’ll be back.”

  Amelia. There she is, sitting behind the wheel of her Mustang, unblinking, emerald eyes glaring at me through her window while tiny droplets of water stream down the glass. Those same eyes widening when I slide into her passenger’s seat. Widening the first time my tongue touches her.

  Images of making love to Amelia for the first time flash before my eyes, the way her soft pants echoed through the room, her breasts full and supple, her nipples hardened under the attention from my lips.

  And all the subsequent times after. All of it. It gives a man a reason to live for, the love of a good woman like mine.

  More memories play on a highlight reel in my mind.

  Amelia saying her vows. Amelia giving birth to Knox. And then Cohen.

  Amelia throwing a pillow at my head, calling me every name under the sun for allowing our sons to feud in a way that never would have happened if I hadn’t ridden Branson so hard or if I’d been more accepting of Knox’s goals that had nothing to do with the family company.

  Amelia bringing Knox back to us. Her holding our first grandchild.

  I see Amelia blossoming from the beautiful girl I fell in love with into the extraordinary woman I’ve been blessed to spend my life with.

  And because of Amelia, I’m not ready to go. She needs me. Hell, I need her. I can’t move on from this life without the one person who’s made it worth living.

  “Knox.”

  Ah, there’s her sweet, melodic voice now. Beckoning me. How could I ever leave her?

  “Knox…”

  The images of her begin to fade away, and I shake my head, willing them to come back. It’s no use. She’s gone.

  My head feels heavy, like there’s an anchor weighing me down. The longer I lie here, wherever I am, sounds around me start to register.

  A slow, steady beeping.

  Low murmurs.

  Amelia weeping.

  I try to smile, but I can’t move my face. Still, I feel that smile straight down to my soul.

  My Amelia.

  A warm hand slips into mine, squeezing gently.

  “Knox?”

  It takes enormous effort to open my eyelids. They’re uncooperative, and it’s only after a few light blinks that I muster up all my willpower to fully open them.

  Amelia’s the first thing I see.

  The only thing I see.

  “Mel—”

  Amelia brushes her free hand over my forehead. “Don’t talk, Knox. Just rest. You’re going to be okay.”

  A lone tear slips out of the corner of my eye.

  My wife wipes it away, her own tears glistening. “I thought I’d lost you. Thank you for coming back to me.”

  I shake my head even though each movement elicits sharp pain. “Never,” I croak.

  Forty years. Forty fucking years I’ve been married to this woman, and I love her more with each passing day.

  “Mel—”

  Her forefinger presses against my lips, silencing me. “I said no talking, Mr. Wellington.” She reaches down beside her to bring her purse to her lap. When she takes out a notepad and a pen, I understand what she wants.

  She watches intently as I write.

  Party.

  Her nose wrinkles, and she glances around the room. My eyes follow her. It’s the first time I’ve noticed my sons and their wives are all here.

  Cohen is still wearing scrubs, dark circles rimming his eyes. Andi is in her standard jeans and concert T. Branson’s wearing the suit he had on the night before, which indicates he hasn’t left. Ari’s in yoga pants and an oversized sweater, her hair thrown into a messy bun. If I know Ari, she ran home to get the kids situated, threw on something, and raced back to the hospital to be with her husband. Charlie’s here, dressed much like Ari is, which isn’t surprising since, as different as Knox and Branson think they are, they both chose strong, vibrant women. And then my gaze lands on Knox. He’s wearing a faded ARMY EOD T-shirt, the tattoos on his arms visible under the sl
eeves.

  My mind races. Have I told him how proud I am of him? Does he know that the only reason I didn’t want him to join the Army was because I was terrified for him? Does he know I love him as much as I love Branson? Cohen? Have I done enough since he’s come back to us?

  Our eyes meet. He must see the panic in mine. Dropping his arm from Charlie’s waist, he comes to the side of my bed, opposite his mom. He leans down, whispering in my ear for only me to hear.

  “I know. Water under the bridge. Let it go.” He lifts, our eyes meeting. He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Welcome back, old man.”

  I start to laugh, which turns into a cough.

  Knox gestures to the notepad. “So, what’s this about a party?”

  I pick it up again, showing it to Amelia.

  “Party?” she repeats.

  I write more.

  “40?”

  I nod as enthusiastically as I can. Which is to say not much. I underline both words three times, then gesture back and forth between the two of us.

  Finally, Amelia’s eyes light up. “You want to have another fortieth anniversary party?”

  “Yes,” I manage to choke out. I go back to my pad and hold it up.

  A re-do. I didn’t even get to give my toast before I had to leave.

  “Honey,” Amelia begins.

  I furiously write on my pad.

  Say yes. Please.

  Her eyes dart around the room, no doubt checking in with each of our sons. My eyes don’t deviate from her. Finally, when she returns to my gaze, she smiles. “I’ll agree to a party as long you’re fine waiting until you’re given a clean bill of health from the doctor.”

  I nod my agreeance.

  My wife leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You stubborn fool. I’ve never been able to say no to you.”

  Back to my pad.

  That’s what I was counting on.

  WITH A GRUMBLE, I FLING the tie onto the bed. I don’t care if this is a formal party. Ties make me feel like I’m choking, and if I’m holding one of my toddler twins, I literally will be choking. And if I show up in dark jeans and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to my elbows to show off my tattoos, no one will be surprised.

  My brothers and I are so much alike, but we’re still uniquely individual. Branson’s the suit-and-tie guy, which makes sense for the CFO of Wellington Enterprises. Sure, since he married Ariana, the stick’s come out of his ass and he’s loosened up a bit—just not with the suits.

  I’m the one more comfortable in cargo pants and Henleys. It’s probably in part to my nearly twenty-year career in the Army. Charlie likes me this way, so why change it?

  Cohen, when not in scrubs or a white lab coat, continues to rock concert T’s and Vans, probably due to his wife’s rising career in music journalism.

  We’ve been through so much shit together, and even though our family was divided for years, I love my brothers more than anything.

  Warm hands wrap around my waist, and Charlie’s breasts press against my back.

  Well, I love my brothers more than almost anything.

  “Even though your mom insisted, I’m glad you ditched the tie.” She unbuttons another button, exposing a bit more of my chest. “There. My rugged man.”

  She must see me roll my eyes in the mirror, because she takes a step back and swats my ass, and when I turn, her mischievous grin hits me like a shot in my groin.

  “But you can always use your tie on me later,” she teases, shooting me saucy wink.

  “We’ll make an appearance, drop the kids off at your dad’s, then come home all within in an hour.”

  Charlie’s haughty laugh tells me it’s wishful thinking. “Trust me, that sounds like heaven. But your dad’s been looking forward to this for the past couple of months. I thought he was going to go insane waiting for your mom and his doctor to finally give the okay. Not to mention Grandma Kate.”

  “Fine,” I growl. “When we get home, you’re mine.”

  One corner of her lips turns up in a devilish grin. “Works for me. After all, Evelyn’s been a bit neglected the past few months. I think it might be time to give her some attention.”

  My cock hardens at the mention of Evelyn, my ’67 Mustang. That’s an awesome car—and an even better place to fuck my wife.

  “Sweetheart, you sayin’ those things, lookin’ like you do in that backless dress… You’re not makin’ it easy on me.”

  She twirls around, showing off the way the dress hugs every curve of her incredible, toned body and how it showcases the delicate skin of her back.

  “Think that’s the point, Rugged,” she offers, her voice husky.

  My woman’s just as turned on as I am.

  Every day with Charlie is better than the last. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s been over six years since she came into my life, berating me, cursing me out, and turning me the fuck on while she did it.

  Six years since she brought me back to who I am. Made me a better man. Helped me find my place with my family again.

  Six years since she took hold of my heart and never gave it back. Same with the rest of me.

  I want her now more than I ever have, and my need for her increases tenfold by the day.

  “Babe, you need to stop picturing me naked or we’re never getting out of this house.” Charlie grins at me-like that’s supposed to make me stop thinking about fucking her. “You’re still doing it!” she exclaims, placing her hands forcefully on her hips in mock anger.

  “You look in the mirror today?”

  A gorgeous pink blush heats her cheeks. “Well, yeah.”

  “Then you know I can’t not do it.”

  “You’re going to have to try.” She checks her watch. “We’ve got about ten minutes to get the kids dressed and in the car. I know you love quickies, baby, but five minutes isn’t enough for what I’m craving tonight. So be patient. Good things come to those who wait, you know.”

  “Good things will definitely come tonight, sweetheart.”

  “Oh my god. You and your one-track mind.”

  She acts miffed, but the truth of it is she’s not surprised. It’s been this way since the first time she let me in. Pretty sure it’s never going to change.

  “Are you sure about doing this tonight?” she asks, doing a complete one-eighty on the topic. If she wanted to deflate my erection, it’s an excellent way to do it.

  I pause while clasping my watch, turning to her, my eyebrows furrowed. “Are you not?”

  Before she can answer, Chloe runs into the room, bypassing her mommy and barreling into my legs. Without skipping a beat, I bend, lifting her into my arms. She peppers my face with slobbery toddler kisses before rubbing her cheek up against mine. My girl’s a sucker for stubble—just like her mother.

  Speaking of, I turn my attention back to my wife.

  Charlie doesn’t answer me. She’s just staring at Chloe snuggling up to my neck—exactly why the tie was a no-go. Our four-year-old has the strength of both her parents. Like a kitten, one of her favorite things to do is tug on anything dangling, including and especially Daddy’s ties.

  “Charlie? Sweetheart?”

  Her brown eyes soften, and I know that look. It’s a look I’ve seen often since Cade and Chloe turned three. If Charlie had her way, we’d have a brood big enough to form our own baseball team.

  “Who’d have thought you of all people would be putty to a little girl?” she breathes.

  “You. Maybe Wade. Considering I was putty the second you called me an arrogant asshole.”

  Charlie’s eyes widen, but it’s too late.

  Chloe’s a parrot. “What’s an asshole?”

  Though my wife pretends to glare at me, the way her shoulders shake tells me she’s trying to hide her laughter just the way I am.

  I bring Chloe’s eyes directly to mine. “Nothing we can say around Gramma, okay?”

  “’Kay.” She squeals when I give her belly a tickle and place a kiss on her nose.


  “Where’s your brother?” I ask.

  “On the potty.”

  “Of course he is.” I set her down on the ground. “Go grab your shoes. It’s time to go to Gramma and Grampa’s. Ready to go play with your cousins?”

  Her laughter echoes through the hall as she races towards her bedroom. Charlie grins at me.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? She’s all you, sweetheart.”

  “Knox, that girl may have my dark hair and eyes, but she got her stubborn streak from you.”

  “You’re joking, right? You’re the stubborn one out of the two of us.”

  I’m teasing. We’re both stubborn as hell. I’m just a little more so than my wife. Still, it’s fun to rile the woman up.

  She finishes clasping her earring and turns to me, her hands impatiently settling on her hips. “Me? You’re the one who took five hundred years to kiss me for the first time.”

  “You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me you wanted to kiss me.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re the one who wouldn’t have sex with me when I was pregnant with the twins, even though the doctor said it was fine.”

  I cross the room, placing my hands on Charlie’s cheeks as soon as I’m near enough. “You win. She gets it from both of us, but mostly me. Except that last one? Fairly sure that was out of terror, not stubbornness.”

  “And I was stubborn enough to make you see the error of your ways.”

  “Sweetheart, I just got my cock deflated. Do you have to go putting those images in my head?”

  She smiles apologetically, though she’s not sorry in the slightest. “I love you, you know?”

  “Love you more.”

  “Love you most,” she says with a tease. Then she wiggles away from me.

  I roll my eyes. “She gets it from you.”

  Charlie erupts into a fit of giggles. Then she stands at the edge of the bed, her eyes softening. “As for your earlier question, yeah, I’m all for it. I think it’s a great idea.”

  Fuck, every time I think I can’t love this woman more, she proves me wrong.

  “I want you to be absolutely on board with this decision,” I say. “You’re the only reason my family’s whole again, Charlie. I can’t imagine a better way to honor my father than with this, but only if you’re one hundred percent sure.”