by TJ Dallas
“I thought you’d never ask.” She grinned wickedly. She switched off the vibrator and tossed it to the bottom of the bed. I chuckled as she rooted around in her bedside drawer yet again.
“That’s a proper little box of tricks, eh?”
“I knew what would happen when you came up here tonight,” she said. “You’re so predictable.”
She placed a blindfold over my eyes, and my heart started to race. She knotted it behind my head, and I felt her moving around on the bed.
“Up onto your knees,” she growled.
I let out a wanting moan as I scrabbled to obey her. I had no dignity with Harry anyway, and I spread my knees in front of her, leaning forward on my forearms.
She was inside me before I could take a breath, and I gasped, a guttural groan in my throat. One finger massaged my clit as she started pounding inside me, her delicious strap-on never missing my G-spot. My tits bounced, and my arms fought to hold me up.
“Deeper,” I begged.
She complied, assuring her full length was inside me every time she thrust, gripping my hips roughly, and it wasn’t long before I howled, my arousal running down the inside of my thighs as I came for her.
I rode that orgasm for several minutes, screaming louder until I couldn’t scream any more. I slumped forward, gasping, the skin on my belly touching the duvet beneath me, confirming just how wet I’d been.
Althea? she thought.
I couldn’t answer. I could only pant, my lungs burning.
Althea?
Mmm?
“Althea!” Her tone out loud was sharp, and I sat up quickly, ripping off the blindfold. My eyes widened as I saw the look in her eyes. Shit. She was going to be two weeks early.
I exhaled slowly as I realised the wetness wasn’t all me. Harry’s water had broken. “All right, toots, you’re OK. Take a deep breath for me.”
I pulled myself to the edge of the bed, snatching my clothes off the floor and throwing them on. When I turned, Harry sat on the other side of the bed, half-dressed, but she couldn’t find her T-shirt. I found it underneath a pillow and helped her put it on. Kneeling in front of her, I rested a finger underneath her chin and met her gaze. I’d never seen sheer terror in her eyes before.
“You’re OK,” I repeated softly. “Have you got a bag ready?”
She pointed to a small duffel bag at the bottom of the wardrobe, and I grabbed it, along with a pair of trainers. I eased them on, and she held my hand as I helped her up.
We were at the hospital within fifteen minutes. Due to our situation and the plans for the baby, it was required. Adoption policy didn’t allow for a home birth, apparently.
Barely twenty-five minutes after her water had broken, she rested back against the bed, trying to get comfortable. She had a private room, and we were alone, the lights dimmed. I sat on the bed next to her, holding her hand. “I’m so sorry, toots.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“This was my fault—” I started, but she quickly shook her head.
“No, it wasn’t. Something felt different today, anyway.” She shrugged, averting her gaze and fiddling with the bottom corner of her T-shirt.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not exactly sexy talk,” she joked, before wincing.
“First contraction?” I placed a tender hand on her belly, a lump catching in my throat. I swallowed it down, and she looked at me as I pressed my lips against hers.
“It’ll be OK,” she whispered when we broke apart, pressing her forehead against me. I felt she was saying it more to herself than to me, but we both needed to try and convince ourselves of that. I couldn’t answer, and I don’t think she expected me to.
As promised, Harry had taken care of the adoption arrangements, assuring me she knew the baby would be well cared for. She’d chosen a gay couple from England, but she chose not to know their names or anything about them. She’d never met them, and she never would. It was better that way. She settled against the bed, finally having found a position that was comfortable.
Eleven hours later, she was starting to struggle.
30
Althea
Is everything OK? Riley thought.
I yawned. Yeah, Harry’s fine. It’s taking longer than Georgia’s labour did. She’s only dilated four centimetres.
Really? How’s she holding up?
I took a sip of my cappuccino. I’m not sure. I think she’s OK, but she’s refusing any pain relief.
Riley’s shock was obvious. Why?
I’ve tried asking her the same thing all day. The only explanation I can think of is that she’s punishing herself.
Punishing herself?
Because she’ll be leaving the hospital tomorrow without him? I replied, shrugging. I don’t know.
Him?
Shit. When Harry had had her second scan, I wasn’t able to stop myself from taking a peek at her file. Not a word to her.
For fuck’s sake, Althea.
Not a word, Riley, I growled.
All right, all right. That’s not a conversation I’d want to have with her, anyway. You’re on your own if she ever finds out that you knew.
She won’t.
Luckily for you. I better go, but keep me updated, OK? Tell Harry I’m asking for her.
Riley broke her connection, and I buried my head in my hands, trying to stifle another yawn. I’d left Harry alone for five minutes to grab a coffee and something to eat. It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon now, and I’d only realised I was starving twenty minutes ago. I’d eaten nothing since yesterday morning.
I finished my coffee and grabbed a refill in a takeaway cup and a few sandwiches and other snacks to take upstairs. If I hadn’t eaten, I doubted she had either, and she needed the energy more than I did. I stretched in the lift on the way to her room, trying to rouse myself awake.
She looked up as I entered, closing the door behind me. The IV at her arm had been replenished. “You just missed the nurse.”
“And?”
“Almost five, but not quite,” she muttered bitterly.
“Anything I can do, toots? I’ve brought you food.” I smiled, setting everything down on the table at her bedside. “Just don’t tell the nurses.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat. If you’re exhausted now, you won’t last much longer.”
She looked at me disapprovingly, and I raised my eyebrows, daring her to argue. She relented with a scowl, and after another three hours, she’d eaten two of the sandwiches and an entire packet of biscuits.
She eventually reached five.
Twenty-one hours, I realised as I checked my watch.
Harry had come up onto her knees for a while, leaning forward on her forearms. I’d massaged her lower back as best I could, but I knew I couldn’t help with much of anything. The nurses had asked her three times if she needed the gas and air, and she’d turned them down, groaning loudly and gritting her teeth each time a contraction pulsed through her.
The nurses had recently started her on a drug called pitocin to help her labour along. It was stalling, and they didn’t want the baby to stay in for much longer. The drug caused Harry’s contractions to start coming a lot harder and a whole lot faster.
She was hot, uncomfortable, and in agony, and I was helpless. She’d gratefully accept a mouthful of ice chips when I offered, though, and she would sigh in relief when I’d wipe her forehead with a cool, damp cloth, removing the hair from her eyes. She’d tied it back, trying to keep it out of her face, but loose wisps kept breaking free and annoying her.
She tried standing and pacing for a few hours but gravity didn’t want to help, either. I’d managed to give her a sponge bath as she bent forward, panting over the bed. I’d dried her off and slipped a fresh T-shirt over her head. I didn�
��t worry with any other clothing; it made things quicker and easier for the nurses each time they checked on her.
The clock ticked by.
By half five in the morning, I’d climbed onto the bed and lay down next to her, holding her in my arms. We’d hardly talked for hours, and we were both starting to fall asleep between her contractions. We knew the end was drawing closer, and neither of us were prepared for it.
Fuck! She squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing as another contraction began inside her. She clutched a fistful of the blanket and grit her teeth. It was a long, painful minute until she could breathe again, and I wished I could take that suffering from her. I knew the worst was yet to come, but it would be emotional rather than physical pain, and I wasn’t ready to deal with it.
She placed a hand on her stomach, closing her eyes and panting. I couldn’t believe she’d been in labour for almost twenty-six hours, contracting hard and getting nowhere fast.
I silently begged that this would be over soon.
Twenty minutes later, a nurse reappeared to review her progress. Harry didn’t even open her eyes as the nurse’s gloved hand disappeared between her legs, gently measuring her. The nurse was silent for a moment before she nodded and said, “OK, darling, we’re finally getting somewhere.”
Harry opened her eyes tiredly. “You’ve told me that before.”
“Well, we’re at ten now.”
I squeezed Harry’s hand anxiously. She met my gaze and swallowed hard; I knew she still wasn’t ready, even after all this time. I pressed my lips against her forehead and brushed the hair from her eyes. She started groaning again, and I rested my forehead against hers.
“You’ve got this, toots,” I whispered.
She tried to nod but instead brought her chin to her chest. A full minute later, she gasped, relaxing back against the pillow. Sweat ran down the side of her face.
After a few strong contractions and even harder pushes, I saw the nurses glancing at each other as Harry grimaced. I narrowed my eyes, contemplating their reaction.
“I need help, Althea,” Harry whispered, so faintly that I barely heard it. “I can’t do this on my own.”
My breath caught, and I leaned closer. She’d never asked for help, in all the time that I’d known her. Pride never needed anyone but herself.
“Anything, toots; what do you need? Do you want the gas and air? I’ll get them—”
Harry grabbed at my clothes. “No, stay with me,” she pleaded, and my heart ached. She exhaled heavily, closing her eyes. “Where’s your hand?”
I held it out, and she arranged it on the top of her belly, underneath her ribcage. “During the next contraction, I need you to press down. Firmly. He’s refusing to move, and I’m running out of energy.”
I froze, but Harry just continued panting, completely unaware of what she’d said. How did she know it was a boy? I thought. When did she find out?
I saw the corner of her mouth lifting in the smallest smile. Two seconds ago when you didn’t deny it, she replied.
I couldn’t breathe, let alone form a reply.
I just had a feeling it was, she added. It changes nothing.
I know.
Her expression altered, her muscles tensing. “Althea, promise me. No matter what happens, you need to keep pressing down, OK?”
“Of course, toots.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise, I—”
She let out an ear-splitting, gut-wrenchingly loud scream as the contraction took over, and I pressed down. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the noise, but of course, it was impossible.
I finally reopened them, catching the nurses nodding their approval. After the longest minute of my life, Harry gasped, nodding gratefully and wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Good. Another one just like that, darling,” the nurse said with a grin.
I didn’t blame her, but she didn’t know how devastatingly hard the next few minutes were going to be for the both of us. I avoided her gaze.
I felt Harry tense with each contraction, and each time, I held her, willing her my strength. Grabbing a fistful of my T-shirt, she grimaced as she burrowed her face against my chest, pushing with everything she had. She needed every bit of energy she could find now. She was worn out, running on empty, and I genuinely didn’t know where she was still finding the energy from. She was the strongest woman I knew, in more ways than one.
“Right, last one,” the nurse said, hardly five minutes later. Her assistant handed her a towel.
I tucked Harry’s head under my chin. She drew a knee to her chest, her breath hot and heavy against my throat. She was relentless, and once more, I was taken aback by her sheer strength of determination. She groaned louder, and I knew this was the last one she had in her.
She was giving it everything she had left.
I brought my hand up. I’d vowed to protect her in any way that I could, and I rested the palm of my hand on her cheek, ensuring she couldn’t turn her head and accidentally see the tiny baby boy that suddenly appeared between her legs. She whimpered, panting heavily, and dropped her knee back down.
“Shhhh,” I soothed. “It’s over now. It’s finished, toots, I promise.” I held her tighter.
I couldn’t hide a strangled sob as I caught sight of his thick brown hair and his different coloured eyes. He immediately disappeared from view, and I cried, holding her close to my throat. She’d never have changed her mind, but I knew how much harder it would be if she saw him. I wouldn’t put her through that; she’d been through enough.
I also knew that I’d needed to look. I had to see him for myself to know that he was real. I wouldn’t have been able to grieve the loss of a shadow, but I could grieve for that baby boy. Thankfully, one of the nurses knew our situation, and she’d taken him from the room before we heard him cry.
We lay unmoving, surrounded by a deafening silence.
Harry started to sob uncontrollably against my throat as tears streaked down my face.
There was nothing I could say.
A few minutes later, I heard the door opening quietly behind me. I couldn’t bear to open my eyes. I didn’t want to confront reality, but a gentle hand on my arm encouraged me to turn around.
Harry’s Identical stood, her familiar athletic form in a skin-tight black T-shirt and blue jeans, a dark belt at her waist. She smiled sadly. She needs a minute, pet, she thought. Come with me.
What if she needs me?
She does need you. But right now, she also needs a moment alone.
The Identical leaned down and gently scooped me up, an arm underneath my knees and around my upper back. She lifted me from the bed, and I burrowed my face into her neck as she carried me towards the door. I stole a glance back; Harry had placed one arm over her face, shielding her eyes, and a tender hand on her abdomen, searching for someone who wasn’t there anymore.
That sweet little stranger, who’d been unknowingly nestled inside her for the majority of nine months, had now disappeared into the world. While she’d only known about his presence for the past six weeks, I still couldn’t imagine what she might have experienced with him during that time. She’d felt his every move, nourished him, carried him intimately for as long as she could, before he had to face the big bad world on his own, without her there to protect him.
Whether she’d ever spoken to him, apologised to him, or perhaps even smiled for him, I’ll never know. None of this was his fault, and while Harry had admitted she couldn’t love him as much as she should, I just prayed she didn’t hate him.
Only her chest moved as she breathed, and then the door closed.
Epilogue
Part 1. Harry
It had taken longer than I’d expected to deal with my broken heart.
After the day at the hospital, Althea had held my hand
as we’d made our way back to the Cardinal. We didn’t say a single word to each other on the drive, nor as we trudged through the club towards my flat.
With every single step, I’d wanted to turn around, to go back and hold my son to my chest, but before I could turn, I’d already put one foot in front of the other. Time disappeared. In the bottom of my heart, I knew I’d done the right thing, but it didn’t make it any easier.
Cody had approached, bouncing and smiling, but he’d taken one look at the expression on my face and stopped dead in his tracks. I’d asked if he needed help, but he’d shook his head, shooing me upstairs. He’d take care of it.
Althea had held my face in her hands at my front door, begging me to look at her, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. She’d stood on her tiptoes to press her lips against my forehead, and I’d forced down my shame. I’d have said I was the worst human being alive, but I wasn’t even human. And I barely felt alive. I was disassociated; numb, yet painfully aware. I couldn’t have accurately described my feelings if you’d paid me.
I’d cried alone at the bottom of my shower for a full hour. I eventually crawled into bed, and my Identical pulled me tight into the curve of her body, holding me as if she never wanted to let go. Her own tears were wet on the back of my shoulder, and we just lay together, the weight of the world tying us down, our lungs forcing us to take a breath, and then another.
And another.
I never wanted her to let go. If I could have remained there for the rest of eternity, I’d have done so, but life, the unforgiving bastard, wasn’t that simple. Or fair.
I’d been forced to open my door to the others on separate occasions, notably Emilia, who’d threatened to kick the door in after thirteen days of no communication. She’d taken one look at me and been stunned into silence.
I’d slid into her lap on the sofa. She’d said nothing as I’d wept, my face buried tight against her throat and her strong arms holding me close. There was nothing any of them could have said that would’ve made me forgive myself. The Identical had said I couldn’t love him, so why was this so fucking hard?