by S. L. Scott
“Holliday?” He’s there in a flash, standing next to me with his arm wrapped over my back. “What’s wrong?”
Turning, I press my head against his middle, and grab hold of his shirt. I plead, “Dalton.” Before I can say more, I’m in his arms as he heads for the house, scooped up and protectively held against him. The pain continues and I try to mentally go to my happy place. I’m transported back to the present, being held by him. I missed his smell. I missed his arms. I missed his breath and seeing his stuff all over the house. I only remember the things I always loved about this man—all the bad that has happened between us is not worth a life without him. I look up at him and realize—he is my happy place.
“How are you doing?” he asks, setting me on the couch.
Holding my body tightly together, another razor-sharp pain hits, so I curl onto my side, and cry, “Something’s wrong.”
“Hang on, Baby.”
My mind goes fuzzy, the pain excruciating. His voice is further away, a vague understanding of what he’s saying as he calls for help.
The ambulance arrives faster than we could have gotten to the nearest hospital. The paramedics are gentle as they help me into a position to check me. Lifting my shirt, they look for outward signs of distress. When I look up at Dalton, he takes my hand and says, “It’s gonna be okay. The baby and you, you’ll be okay.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He keeps his word.
The pain ceases. My heart rate and the baby’s are slightly elevated, but in a range they feel is safe. After they give advice to get some rest and see my doctor in the morning, they leave.
When he comes back to the couch, he says, “Let’s get you to bed.” Bending down, he lifts me into his arms. He lays me on the bed and I grab his pillow to snuggle with, hoping it will have his scent again one day.
The stress of our situation burdens his body. His shoulders are slumped, his emotions withdrawn to the depths of his eyes. The bed dips as he sits down. Resting his head in his hands, he hunches forward, away from me.
I reach out to touch him, not able to stop myself any longer. I don’t know if I want to laugh from happiness that we’re healthy and together or cry that we’ve fallen apart. I whisper, “We weren’t on a break.”
“I thought we were already broken.”
“Like I said, you thought wrong.”
“I know,” he says. Angling toward me, he rubs my waist like old times and I let him because I miss our old times. “I know you’re hurt. I know I’m the one who hurt you. You have every right to be mad and kick me out, but I hope you don’t. I hope you can see that I made a mistake and I’m willing to pay for it, but I need you in my life and I want to be in our baby’s life.” Leaning down, he rests his ear lightly against my stomach.
I roll to my back, overcome with emotion. This is Dalton. This is the man I fell in love with. He’s here and bonding with our baby for the first time. He lifts up enough to move my shirt above my belly. I swallow hard, feeling vulnerable and fighting all my instincts to cover back up. He places three kisses in a line over the small bulge and says, “I love you, baby.”
Hearing him use ‘baby’ not for me, but for our growing child brings tears to my eyes. My hand goes to his head and holds him where he is, a dream I’d had many times now coming true. When he looks up, the scruff on his chin tickles my skin. He says, “You’re so beautiful, Angel.”
We still have so much more to talk about and even more to reconcile, but tonight, right now, I feel at peace with him here, loving that our little family is finally together.
Sometime before sunrise, my mind becomes lucid and a warming sensation wrapped around my body causes me to open my eyes. Dalton’s hand is on my baby bump, the weight of his arm balanced on my hip. Rolling over slowly so he doesn’t wake, I look at him. His handsome features are still visible through the darkness of the early hour. I gently touch his cheek running my fingers down and over his hard jaw line.
Admiring him could easily become my full time dream job. Moving closer, I kiss him on the lips, savoring the feel of them again and how soft they are when pressed. In the softest of voices, I whisper, “No matter how far away you were, you were always inside my heart.”
I kiss him gentler than before, but this time his hand moves into my hair and he kisses me back. He feels so good. This feels too good to stop myself after all this time. Our legs slowly entangle as our arms cover each other under the sheet. His shoulder dips over me, bearing some of his weight on me. Our tongues mingle and his hand glides over my chest with an assurance.
Maybe we should stop. We still have so much to talk about. He makes it difficult to resist when he kisses his way across my cheek until his lips reach my ear and he whispers, “You are my soul. I will always love you.”
His hand goes between my legs and his mouth starts covering my neck. I missed sex with him, but I’ve missed him more. I push all my doubts away and enjoy this moment, this time that has us coming back together. “I will always love you,” I say, not bothering to whisper.
He stills above me. Lifting up, he looks down at me. “Do you mean that?”
I nod. “I do.”
While his thumb grazes over my cheek, he says, “I’m sorry.” This time I just don’t hear his apology, I feel it deep inside.
Sighing content in his words, I cover his hand with mine and say, “No more sorries.”
Slipping further down, he kisses my chest and then a nipple before working over to the other making me squirm beneath him. His hands keep me warm as his mouth lowers to my stomach. I start to move my arms down to cover, but he slides his hands down my arms and takes my wrists, holding them to the mattress. Returning to my stomach, he kisses, but freezes as do I when I feel the baby move.
He eyes my stomach, and then looks up at me. “The baby moved.”
I burst into tears while freeing my hands so I can lay my palms over my bare stomach.
“What’s wrong?” His hands cover mine this time. “The baby moved,” he repeats. “That was amazing.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s right, Babe. The baby moved. That was the first time.”
“What?”
Nodding, I smile between sniffles. “I felt fluttering before, but that was the first time the baby actually moved like that.” In awe, I say, “The baby moved for you.”
“The baby moved for me.” He presses his lips against my belly and says, “Hi baby inside there. Daddy’s here.” He jerks up when the baby kicks. “He kicked for me. You felt that, right?”
“I did,” I reply between laughs and sobs, my emotions once again all over the place. “She must have been waiting for you to come home.”
He leans his head against me. I’m thinking his own emotions are getting away from him. I run my fingers through his hair and hold him because this is exactly where he belongs—with us.
“I love you,” he says. “You hear that in there?” He taps lightly. “I love you and your mommy so much.” Glancing back up at me, he adds, “I’ll never forgive myself for not being here for you. I’m sorry.”
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
“Forgiveness is when someone gives you the peace to forgive yourself.” ~ Johnny Outlaw
Sitting in the exam room of my OBGYN, I think of Dalton out in the waiting room. I miss him and it’s only been a few minutes since we parted. But deep down, I know it’s more. It’s that I missed him being a part of my life, part of this experience.
Lying here on the table in this room all alone, his absence is felt all around me. All these misunderstandings and pain, none of it matters when something more important is at risk. I lie back on the exam table and call him on the phone.
He answers right away. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“I changed my mind.” Starting to feel overwhelmed by how much I need him with me, I sniffle. “I want you here with me.”
“I’ll be right there.”
; Not even two minutes later, there’s a light wrap on the door. The nurse opens it and says, “Someone’s here to see you.”
Dalton walks in and straight over to me. He places a kiss on my forehead and asks, “How are you doing?”
I don’t hold my smiles back anymore. “Better now.”
The doctor enters soon after. “Mrs. Dalton, what brings you in today?” he asks, but then sees Dalton standing there. “Umm, wow, you’re Johnny Outlaw.”
Dalton smiles. “You can call me Johnny.” When they shake hands, the doctor seems embarrassed. “I apologize. I didn’t expect to see you when I walked in. I’m a big fan.”
“It’s okay, but I’m here for my wife and baby.”
When the doctor turns to me, he smiles. “I never put two and two together.” Sitting down on a chair at the end of the table, he asks, “What brings you in today, Mrs. Dalton?”
“I had shooting pain last night. We called an ambulance and when the paramedics arrived, they checked mine and the baby’s vitals. Elevated heart rates, but they said they didn’t think I needed to go to the hospital last night and to check in with you today.”
He’s reading over the file as I speak, nodding, but then looks up and says, “I’d like to go ahead and do an ultrasound. I know we’re ahead of next week’s appointment, but it’s always good for us to err on the side of caution. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes.” Glancing to Dalton, I say, “You’ll get to hear the heartbeat.”
The doctor asks a few questions as the nurse prepares the gel and machine. “It’s a good report from the paramedics. I’m thinking they did the right thing. You haven’t experienced any bleeding and the pain described seems to be short-lived, but let’s take a listen.”
Dalton stands by my side, holding my hand. As he stares at the monitor I can’t stop myself from staring at him in anticipation. When the first heartbeat is heard, his chest fills and releases slowly, the relief obvious. Pulling my hand to his mouth, he kisses it. His eyes have filled with tears, overcome by the reality. With my hand still pressed to his lips, he says, “That’s our baby.”
I peek at the monitor and see the baby on the screen. The heartbeat fills the room and I tear up like I do every time. “That’s our baby.”
The doctor says, “The baby sounds healthy and from what we can see on the monitor, growing just right. You’re doing a great job. Just keep that stress down and stay active. Most expectant moms find it helps to take walks.” Pictures are printed and he hands them to Dalton. “Here are some photos to take with you.”
The doctor continues talking, but Dalton doesn’t seem to hear a word he says. His mouth closes and his eyes flash to mine. “We have photos… of our baby.” His hand covers my belly just as my shirt is lowered.”
Smiling from his reaction, I reply, “Yes, I have more at home I can show you too. Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Yeah,” he says with a grin that feels personal, just for us.
The doctor clears his throat and repeats himself, “If you’d like to find out the sex, I was told we have an opening. It’s only a few days before your appointment, so if you’d like to find out, we’ll send you over there now.”
My eyes meet Dalton’s, questioning without words.
“I’m happy the baby’s healthy. I’d like to know the sex, but it’s up to Holliday.”
“I want to know for purely superficial reasons like décor and clothes, but also for the name.”
“I’ll let them know. They’re just across the hall. You can gather your stuff and go when you’re ready.” He walks to the door, and says, “Make sure she takes care of herself and keep the stress to a minimum.”
Dalton responds, “I will.” The door closes and as if it hadn’t occurred to him previously, he asks, “Have you chosen names already?”
“I’ve started paying more attention to names, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick one without you.”
“You had faith in me when I had none.” He leans over and hugs me though the positioning is perfectly awkward. But like our mistakes, perfectly awkward doesn’t matter.
We’re together and that’s what does. “I had faith that you’d find your way home. Now that you have, I hope you’ll stay.”
He looks me in the eyes with a new conviction. “I’m never leaving again.”
Offering me a hand up, I lift up on the table and swing my feet over the side. Pulling him close, I say, “I won’t go through this again, Dalton. If you leave again, I won’t be there when you come back.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll never leave you.” Everything about the way he said it, the way he looks with this confidence in his eyes, and the way he’s treating me reassures me in ways that words might not. So as I watch him gather my jacket and bag, I realize this is it. The war is over. We’ve both surrendered, choosing to love each other instead of fight. We win. It’s then that I decide to move forward and let the past stay where it belongs, in the past.
Across the hall I lie there in tears when they tell us the sex of our baby. But even through my watery vision, I can see the heavy, life-changing emotion as it plays out across Dalton’s face. There’s no doubt on his face. None at all. He loves this baby wholeheartedly. His hand tightens around mine and his eyes are fixed on the screen. “Wow,” he says. And I feel the same exact way.
The technician leaves the room quietly and when I stand up, Dalton takes me in his arms. Resting his forehead against mine, he closes his eyes and I close mine.
With my arms around him, I say, “How am I going to handle two Outlaws?” A low chuckle is heard before he cups my face, and says, “No one could handle two of us better than you. But let’s just hope his disposition takes after his mother’s.”
“For all of our sakes.” I giggle. “So we need to come up with a boy’s name.”
“We can do that, but first I’m gonna kiss you.”
The touch is sweet, but the kiss intimate—one that has forever laced all over it.
The baby’s room was painted a few days ago and dried since, but I open the window to let fresh air in anyway. New Daddy syndrome has struck. Dalton has gone overboard buying stuff for the baby—a Fender Stratocaster guitar, stuffed animals… basically a zoo’s worth, and he wants to have the lyrics of a song he’s working on painted onto the wall. I can’t deny his excitement makes me happy.
The room overlooks the grounds, a garden of roses that was planted last year. They’re thriving, much like me and Dalton over the last week.
“You’re more beautiful than ever. Have I told you that?” Dalton says.
I turn and glance over my shoulder. “A few times,” I reply, loving it every time he says it.
Leaning against the doorframe, he’s relaxed, at peace with the world. Finally. “Rochelle’s here to see you.”
Rochelle walks in and Dalton excuses himself, closing the door to give us privacy. She embraces me like we haven’t seen each other in ages or might never see each other again. I understand why, and I appreciate how easily she shows affection. The death of a loved one will make you appreciate the everyday a little more.
“This is the room?”
“Yep. I like the view.”
She looks out. “It’s very pretty. Happy.” Taking my hand, she gives me a tug. We climb onto the bed that hasn’t been moved out of here and lie next to each other. All giddy, she rolls to face me, and says, “Tell me everything.”
Adjusting onto my side to get comfortable, I’m grinning stupidly, enjoying the fun girl talk. “He’s back for good,” I whisper with all the confidence in my soul.
“How do you know?”
I understand her questioning, glad she cares enough to ask. “Because when he showed up the other night, something was missing. I could see the vacancy in his eyes. And now it’s gone. Filled. It’s hard to explain, but I can see the difference.”
“You were always the difference, Holli. What about all the yucky stuff with New York and Seattle?”
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��We may have skipped a few steps in the healing process, but priorities change and this baby has become number one to both of us.”
“Babies have a magical way of healing parts of us that no one else can.” Taking her hand, I squeeze it. But the heaviness never suited her, so she says, “You’re having a boy. I’m a little partial to them myself.”
“I’m so excited. If I can be half the mother you are, my son will be very lucky.”
“You’ll be better. You have this great family. Just appreciate each day and each other. It all kind of flows from there.”
We sit up, a thoughtfulness working its way through the air. Leaning against the headboard, I ask, “Am I weak for taking him back?”
“Taking him back shows your strength. Have you forgiven him?”
“My priorities have changed.” I rub my stomach absentmindedly. “It’s not about who’s right or wrong anymore. It’s about the baby and a future that deserves a chance. And honestly, I don’t want to lose any more time with him. I don’t want to be upset anymore. I don’t want chaos filling my days or my head. I just want to love him, love the calm. I knew what I was getting when we got married. I’m not going to make him apologize for being hurt by life and discount his suffering. So if that’s what forgiving him results in, I forgave him before he walked in that door.”
She laughs to herself and I see her eyes beginning to water. Looking down at her lap, she says, “That’s what love is—chaos and calm, all rolled into one.” Her eyes meet mine just as a tear slips down. I lean my head on her shoulder. “You’ve got so much strength. You’re an amazing woman, Holli.”
“I’m lucky to have amazing friends.”
She leans her head against mine and says, “I feel the same way.” Releasing a breath, she says, “I was just stopping by to check on you, so I better get going.” As we walk to the door, she says, “I know Johnny can be an asshole, but…” She stops, choosing her words carefully before continuing, “I believe you have always been destined to be together. And I also believe you’re the only woman who could bring him back from the hell he was living in.”