Undone (Undisputed #1.5)

by A. S. Teague

He kisses the top of my head and gives me a quick squeeze. “Pack one of those nighties from our honeymoon.”

  “Oh, you think you’re getting lucky on this trip, do you?” I challenge, walking away while wiggling my butt at him.

  His eyes darken. “Oh, I don’t have to think. I know. Maybe on the plane again?”

  I grin and shake my head, “Oh, no sir. Not with Reb there!”

  He swats my ass and tells me, “We’ll see about that.”

  CHAPTER Seven

  AN HOUR AND a half later, we arrive at the airport, Rebecca in tow. After passing through security, we make our way to the private plane Breccan has arranged for us to take to Oklahoma. As we pass through yet another security checkpoint, we hear a familiar voice calling our names.

  “Tripp? What are you doing here?” Breccan asks when Tripp finally catches up to us, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

  He’s breathing heavy and bends at the waist, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Righting himself, he tells us, “I’m coming too.”

  “You can’t come! Who’s watching Prince?” Rebecca asks, a startled look on her face.

  “Mom and Dad. After you told me what y’all were doing, I decided I wasn’t going to miss it. It’s the next to last item on the list, right?” He looks to me, and I nod.

  When Breccan and I finally went to Australia, we crossed three items off the list. We not only pet kangaroos in Australia, something which freaked me the fuck out, but we also learned to surf and driven race cars.

  I discovered that Australia has quite a few motorsport parks, so I picked one in Sydney that looked good and booked a whole day’s worth of driving experiences. Breccan was like a kid in a candy store, his love for fast cars apparent when he insisted we come back the following day to do it again. I didn’t enjoy driving fast nearly as much as Breccan, my sense of self-preservation not allowing me to fully immerse myself in the experience. But Brec’s enthusiasm was contagious, and I imagined Connor would have been right there with him, insisting on coming back for round two.

  After a trip to a petting zoo, one that didn’t last long because the big kangaroos scared me, Breccan had surprised me by telling me that he’d done a little planning on his own.

  I wanted to be mad, I was supposed to be the one making the decisions for a change, but I was working on going with the flow more, so I let it go.

  And when we arrived at the beach, my irritation evaporated when I realized the sexy man named Brent would be teaching me how to surf.

  I mean, really, how could I be angry at spending a day in the water with an Aussie God?

  “Well, if you’re coming, let’s fucking go.”

  Rebecca giggles and elbows Tripp. “I forgot to mention that we’re in the middle of a twenty-hour Harry Potter marathon. You’re just in time for movie number four.”

  Tripp groans loudly, “Shiiiiiiiit.”

  We board the plane and get settled in our seats, Breccan giving the movie to the flight attendant. She turns it on and a few minutes later, the plane begins to taxi down the runway. I rest my head on Breccan’s shoulder, suddenly exhausted, and before the plane is even fully in the air, I’m sound asleep.

  “Sid,” Breccan whispers, his breath tickling my ear. “Wake up baby, we’re here.”

  I crack my lids open, not ready to wake up, and glance around. “Did I sleep the whole way?” I ask, my voice gravelly.

  “Yeah, you missed an entire movie too. We’ll let it slide though,” Rebecca tells me from her seat across the aisle.

  I press my palms in to my eyes and rub. “I’ve been so tired the last few days. Like unable to keep my eyes open. Sorry y’all.”

  “You’re not getting sick, are you?” Tripp eyes me. “You don’t look so great.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Gee thanks.”

  He holds his hands up. “Sorry.”

  Breccan gathers my carry-on and with his free hand, laces his fingers through mine. “Let’s get to the hotel and get settled in.”

  “THAT WAS INCREDIBLE!” Breccan shouts as we make our way back inside the hotel.

  When we arrived in Oklahoma just twenty-four hours earlier, the sun was shining brightly, and I feared Breccan had made a mistake. But this morning, when the gray clouds didn’t part, I could see that we were in fact, about to experience some bad weather.

  Breccan was in contact with a local weather guy and an expert storm chaser and they were all monitoring the weather situation together. The men had several vehicles outfitted in protective armor and looked like they were straight out of the movie Twister.

  We spent the afternoon chasing a line of storms, and finally saw a tornado after hours of looking. It was an F-1 tornado, and luckily was in the middle of nowhere, so there was no danger to the community.

  I still felt off, and spent most of the time trying to shake the fatigue and nausea I had for the last week.

  A sudden wave of dizziness hits me, and I stumble to the bed to avoid falling to the floor.

  “Baby!” Breccan shouts, his voice thick with worry. “Are you okay?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut in the hopes that the room will still and whisper, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”

  My eyes tightly shut, I scoot up the bed until I feel my back hit the headboard.

  “I think I’ve got a bug or something. I’ve just felt off for the last few days,” I tell him.

  When I finally open my eyes, Breccan’s face swims in to view. His face is lined with worry.

  “You want to skip dinner?” he asks, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.

  I lean in to him and shake my head, “No, I’m okay. I want to go. Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

  He nods and stands. “I’ll go get Tripp and Rebecca.”

  When he exits the hotel room, I stand slowly and suck in a deep breath through my nose. I take two steps before a wave of nausea hits me and I find myself racing to the bathroom.

  I’m hugging the commode, the contents of my stomach having just been emptied in to it, when Rebecca opens the door to the room.

  “Sid? You okay? Breccan said you aren’t feeling well,” she calls out.

  Weakly, I answer, “In here. I’m okay.”

  Rebecca bursts through the bathroom door, her voice shrill. “Are you throwing up?”

  Resting my cheek on the cool porcelain of the toilet seat, I say a silent prayer that the cleaning staff uses disinfectant between each guest.

  “How long have you been feeling bad?” Rebecca asks, handing me a wet washcloth. I use it to wipe my mouth. When she hands me a tumbler of tap water, I sit up and take it from her, taking a small sip. My stomach turns again, but I swallow the nausea and tell her, “Just about a week maybe. This is the first time I’ve thrown up though.”

  Her brightly painted fingertip taps her pursed lips as she studies me, her gaze slowly making its way up and down my torso.

  “You’re pregnant,” she announces.

  Laughter bubbles up and I shake my head, “No way. I’ve just got a bug.”

  She shakes her head. “What bug makes you tired and nauseous for a week before you actually throw up?”

  While she talks, I try to remember the last time I had a period. My mind coming up blank, my stomach begins to turn again, but this time not because I’m going to throw up.

  “Oh God,” I whisper.

  Pushing to my feet, I stand and look at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are ringed with dark circles, my skin paler than it usually is. I let my eyes wander to my breasts and cup them with my hands, feeling the weight of their fullness. The slight pressure of my fingers cause them to ache.

  My gaze meets Rebecca’s in the mirror where she stands behind me. Her eyes are sparkling with excitement, the polar opposite of the fear I feel.

  “How much time do we have?” I whisper.

  “Breccan said our reservation is in an hour,” she responds quickly. “He went to get a drink with Tripp.”

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nbsp; “Go get me a test.”

  She gives a quick nod and turns, practically sprinting from the room.

  For five long minutes, I stand in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror, trying to decide what I’m feeling. Even though I’m terrified, I feel a glimmer of excitement at the thought of having a child with Breccan.

  Rebecca finally returns, pulling a plastic drug store bag from her purse and dumps five boxes on the counter.

  “I said a test. Not five!” I whisper-yell, shutting the bathroom door behind us.

  “I didn’t know which one was the best, so I got them all!” She whisper-yells back.

  I grab a box that promises to be 99 percent accurate with the clearest results and rip it open. My hands shaking, I pull the plastic stick from the box.

  After doing as instructed, Rebecca and I stare at each other in silence. For three long minutes, I chew my nails, my mind both full and blank at the same time. Finally, the alarm she set on her phone chimes and she announces, “It’s time.”

  Her simple statement causes my heart to race and the nausea that hasn’t gone away in days intensifies.

  I snatch the stick off the counter but don’t look at it. “What am I going to do if its positive?” I ask her, my voice scratchy.

  She smiles wide. “You’re gonna have a fucking baby, that’s what you’re gonna do.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and hold the stick out to her. “You look. I can’t.”

  She pulls the test from my hand, and I hear her sharp intake of breath. “You’re gonna have a fucking baby!” she squeals.

  My eyes fly open as my heart pounds in my chest, so hard that I’m convinced Rebecca can hear it from where she stands.

  “Are you sure?” I squeak, and she turns the stick, showing me the bright pink plus sign. There’s no mistaking that the test is positive.

  “You’re gonna have a baby!” she squeals again, clapping her hands together.

  I’m still staring at her in shock when the bathroom door flies open and Breccan pushes his way inside the small space.

  His eyes wild, he takes in the scene for half a second and then he barks, “Get out, Reb!”

  “Fuck,” she breathes, giving me an apologetic smile and then turning, she rushes from the bathroom without a backward glance.

  When the door slams shut, I sit on the seat of the commode and look up to where Breccan stands, his chest heaving.

  “You’re pregnant?” he says quietly, his face blank.

  I hold the pregnancy test up to him, “Looks like it.” I smile wide, hoping to convey to him that I’m okay with this unexpected turn of events.

  This is not how I expected to reveal to my husband that I was pregnant, sitting in a hotel bathroom, trying desperately not to vomit—both because of hormones and being freaked the hell out.

  He takes the test from my hand and looks at briefly. Turning, he throws the piece of plastic across the room.

  “Fuck!” he roars.

  His outburst causes me to jump and I shout, “What was that for?”

  His face is no longer blank, instead a mask of anger mixed with something else I can’t quite put my finger on. He begins to pace back and forth in the bathroom, not able to go more than two steps before having to turn in the narrow space. He rubs the back of his neck, but doesn’t answer me and the longer he’s silent, the more frightened I become.

  I try to keep my mind from spinning out of control while desperately trying to process the fact that I am going to have a baby.

  Mentally, I make a list of reasons why the timing isn’t ideal.

  We haven’t been married that long, Breccan’s incredibly busy with the gym, and I’ve been bogged down at work.

  Hell, we haven’t even discussed if we want kids, much less when we would have them.

  But despite all of this, I can’t help but be a little excited. Placing my hand over my abdomen, I sit in wonder at the miracle of life that’s apparently growing inside of me.

  Clearing my throat, I tell Breccan gently, “I know this is a shock. It is for me too. But, I—”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No buts,” he clips. “Don’t try to make light of this.”

  I scoff, “Well what should I do then?” Trying a different approach, I soften my voice. “Listen, I know the timing isn’t right. We haven’t even discussed children yet. But we’ll make it work.”

  He shoves his hands in his hair, his eyes darting around the room, but never landing on me. “I don’t want to have a fucking baby. Not now. Not next year. Not ever.”

  His words feel like a knife to my heart. I had no idea that he didn’t want children, and I’m horrified at the fact that now we have no choice in the matter.

  Bitterly, I snap, “Well, sorry, but you don’t really have a choice anymore.”

  In shock, I shove past him and in to the bedroom. I need time to think, to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to have a baby—apparently by myself. I grab my shoes from under the bed and roughly shove my feet in to them before stomping to the door. My hand’s on the knob when Breccan grabs my arm, stopping me from leaving.

  “Let me go!” I snap, wrenching my arm from his grasp. He releases my arm, but steps in front of the door.

  “You can’t leave! It’s not safe!” he shouts, his eyes wild.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “Now get out of my way.”

  My heart feels like its breaking in to a million pieces, and I need to get away from the source of my pain.

  “You’re not going anywhere in this weather. Especially not now.”

  I throw my hands in the air, frustrated. “What do you care?”

  “What do I care? You’re my wife! And you’re pregnant!”

  Gesturing at my stomach, I shout, “You don’t even want a baby, remember?”

  As the words leave my lips, my resolve breaks and tears begin streaming down my cheeks. Angrily, I push against him, desperate to escape the hotel room that’s suffocating me.

  He doesn’t budge, and I shove at him again. He stands still, his face tight, and never moves as I push him again and again until finally I give up and sink to the floor.

  I sit on the carpet and sob, desperate for Breccan to comfort me. To tell me that he didn’t mean it and that he’s overjoyed at our news. But he just stands rooted in place in front of the door, blocking my escape from this nightmare I’ve suddenly found myself in.

  The tears finally stop flowing and I push to my feet. Wiping the moisture from my cheeks, I look at Breccan.

  His eyes are red and filled with unshed tears. My heart lurches at the site of my big, strong man so upset and I go to him. I’m angry with him, but desperate to feel his arms around me.

  Wrapping my arms around his waist, I cling to him. Hesitantly, he puts his arms around me and squeezes back and we hold each other in silence.

  After what seems like an eternity, he speaks, his voice cracking. “I can’t lose a child, Sidney.”

  My stomach falls at his honest confession and I squeeze tighter.

  “Losing Connor was the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced.” His voice is thick with emotion and he pauses to clear his throat. “It nearly broke me. I can’t lose a child. I would never recover.”

  It may make me a coward, but I can’t bring myself to look at him, to see the devastation that must be written on his face. Instead, I hold him tightly, “Oh honey.”

  “I just, I just don’t think I can do it.”

  Finally, I steel myself and tilt my head to look at him. The fear in his eyes cuts me deep, just like I knew it would, and I scramble to find the right words to say.

  “Breccan, honey. Do you remember the day you told me you weren’t going to fight again? Right after Connor died?”

  His brow wrinkles in confusion, but he nods.

  “You remember that big fight we had and you left? I was convinced we were through.”

  He nods again.

  �
�Do you remember what you said to me?” I ask gently.

  This time he shakes his head. “Probably something I shouldn’t have.”

  It’s my turn to shake my head. “No, just the opposite actually. You said exactly what I needed to hear. And now, you need to hear it too.”

  I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat as I remember that day and the fear I’d felt thinking that I’d pushed Breccan out of my life.

  “You said that it didn’t matter how many lists I made or how religious I was about taking my vitamin on time every day,” I chuckle. “Eight-thirty a.m. on the dot, you know.”

  His lips tip up in a weak smile and I keep talking.

  “You told me, ‘In the end, what’s going to be will be, and I can’t change that.’”

  I lace my fingers through his and tell the man who means more to me than anything else in this world, “This baby is meant to be, Brec.” Placing our interlocked hands on my stomach, I finish, “And who are we to argue with fate?”

  In that moment, I realize that this life growing inside me is the gift I never knew I wanted. “I want this baby. I want to have this baby with you,” I tell him passionately.

  The worry that was etched on his face dissolves and a look of wonder replaces it. He untangles his fingers from mine and splays both of his hands over my belly, his thumbs rubbing back and forth.

  “I’m scared. Petrified,” he admits, his eyes finally meeting mine.

  His honesty takes me back. I’ve never known Breccan to be afraid of anything.

  “God, me too.”

  His gaze intent, he asks, “What if I’m not a good father?”

  “You will be,” I insist fiercely.

  “My father is a terrible dad. What if I inherited that from him?”

  My blood boils, my loathing for the Carlisle’s never as great as it is in this very moment. “You didn’t.”

  He says, pressing his lips to my forehead, “I’m sorry.” He drops to his knees in front of me and pulls my shirt up, revealing my flat stomach.

  “It looks like it always does,” he murmurs, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “Hard to believe there’s a baby in there.”

  “I know.”

  Peppering my belly with kisses, he whispers, “My baby.”