Emergency Delivery (Love Emergency)

by Samanthe Beck

  Cody’s texts flashed in her mind, and for a second she considered mentioning them to Hunter, but she tossed the notion aside. Yes, her ex was trouble, but the trouble didn’t know where to find her, and Hunter didn’t need to be dragged into that particular drama. She hugged Joy closer. “Nope. He’s out of our lives and I intend to keep him out. That’s one right decision I made.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Madison pushed through the glass doors of the Midtown Medical Plaza and smiled at the overcast sky. The threat of a winter rainstorm couldn’t cloud her mood. First off, she’d managed to squeeze into a pair of jeans and a sweater from her pre-pregnancy wardrobe. Granted, they used to be baggy on her, and now, not so much, but still. Normal clothes. Next, she’d made it to her doctor’s appointment a few minutes early and been seen right away. Finally, she held in her hand a copy of the note from her doctor stating she was fit to return to work. The office had promised to fax a copy to her manager at The Grind this afternoon. She could be on the schedule starting next week.

  She’d take it. Things were finally starting to go her way. She walked to her car, feeling lighter than she’d felt in months. Physically lighter, too, by about ten pounds, which had given her a couple moments of panic on her way to her appointment, because she kept forgetting she’d left Joy with Nelle. Hunter was off today but busy getting fitted for a tux for Beau’s wedding. She’d overheard enough of Hunter’s side of a phone conversation to know there was a happy hour afterwards, which he’d offered to skip so she could go to her appointment without Joy in tow, but luckily her walking partner, Nelle, had volunteered…okay…demanded to look after the baby. Madison had dropped Joy off at Nelle’s an hour ago with a diaper bag full of supplies and three bottles of expressed milk—not the most enjoyable process in the world but good practice for baby and mama, since she’d be expressing a lot more starting next week. Joy didn’t need much practice. As long as she got fed, she didn’t seem to care whether it came from a breast or a bottle.

  She opened her handbag with the idea of texting Hunter and sharing her other piece of good news. Her doctor also gave her a cautious thumbs-up on another front, after a short chat about “controlled penetration,” and instructions to take it slow, and use protection if she wasn’t looking to get pregnant again. She hoped Hunter would be game to try, given that over the last week they’d gotten into the habit of sharing his bed and enthusiastically exhausted every post-partum permissible way to drive each other crazy. She had nothing against creativity—especially not Hunter’s brand—but she practically came where she stood just thinking about finally having him inside her.

  Her phone dinged. A quick twist of tension tightened her stomach. She’d received a few more texts from Cody. Messages sounding more like the guy she’d fallen for back in Shallow Pond. He asked for nothing except information about how she was doing and, even more uncharacteristic, how the baby was doing. When was she due? Did she know if she was having a boy or a girl? Was it healthy? Could he see her?

  The answer remained no, because he’d shattered her trust in him beyond repair, and she hoped her continued lack of response conveyed as much. She flipped the phone open and scanned the screen.

  Holy shit, things really were going her way. Randy, her old landlord, requested her forwarding address. He had a $500 check for her, for the unused portion of her security deposit.

  Her fingers hovered over the reply button but then hesitated. Randy didn’t have much use for Cody, but he could get really talkative after a fifth of whiskey, and Cody knew it. Giving Randy her new address would be a mistake. Instead, she dialed Nelle.

  Her neighbor picked up on the second ring. “Hi honey, how’s it going?”

  “Good. I’m officially off leave. My manager will put me on the schedule starting next week.”

  “Lord, it seems so soon, but if that’s what you want, then I’m happy for you.”

  “It’s for the best. I can’t sponge off Hunter indefinitely.” Over the course of their daily walks, she’d more or less spilled her entire sorry situation to the older woman. Nelle had been sympathetic and surprisingly nonjudgmental. On the subject of getting knocked up without even the benefit of an engagement ring, Nelle had simply waved a hand and said, “Oh, honey, we do that in my family, too.”

  But right now, a non-committal, “Hmm,” was all she had to say about the sponge off Hunter comment.

  “How are you and Joy getting on?”

  “Your little angel and I are doing fine. I set up my grandson’s activity gym, and we played hard for a half hour, trying to get our little hands on the monkey, and the raccoon, and the owl. We had the best time. I snapped some pictures to show you. Then we had a snack, and now she’s enjoying a little nap. She is such a good baby. I know you and Hunter are going to try to coordinate your work schedules so Joy’s covered, but if you need a sitter, pick me!”

  Pride warmed her chest. Logically, she knew Joy’s behavior hinged mostly on how well fed and rested she was, but the mama in her couldn’t help puff up a bit at the compliment. It also reassured her enough to ask Nelle for another favor. “Thank you. I’m glad she’s behaving, and I so appreciate your offer. At the risk of making you immediately sorry you volunteered, would you mind if I ran an errand before I came home? I shouldn’t need more than an hour.”

  “Take your time. We haven’t even tried out the bouncy chair with the springy, light-up bugs. Jackson lived in that thing while he was here, and I put fresh batteries in this morning.”

  Joy was in good hands. “Okay. Thanks, Nelle. I’ll see you soon.”

  She called Randy, told him she’d be there in thirty minutes to pick up her check, and made it in twenty-five.

  Randy sucked up the extra five minutes complaining about Cody hanging around the place looking for her, which made her nervous and anxious to be on her way. And maybe a touch paranoid, because she thought she spotted Cody’s truck out of the corner of her eye while she stood at the counter of the check-cashing place around the block from her old apartment. She saw no sign of it when she walked back to her car.

  Shake it off, Madison. There are a million black pickups in Atlanta. Besides, between drugs and gambling, Cody probably lost the truck by now.

  Still, her heart rate stayed high, and her eyes kept straying to the rearview mirror until she pulled onto the freeway and merged into the Friday afternoon traffic. By the time she took the off-ramp for Peachtree Hill, she’d convinced herself to stop searching for bad consequences in a positive turn of events. Luck owed her a couple strokes. Just relax and enjoy them.

  With that in mind, she turned into the drugstore parking lot. Enjoying a stroke of luck tonight required some supplies. She grabbed her purse and walked inside. It only took a few minutes to fill a red basket with condoms, lube, and, following impulse, a pack of bikini area razors. Controlled penetration meant subjecting Hunter to some sights she’d managed to keep mostly under wraps up until now. Her tummy was still a work-in-progress, but that was okay because she’d amassed a small collection of his oversized T-shirts that slid off her shoulders and offered him access to her breasts while keeping her middle draped. As of now, however, the need to do things through the panties disappeared. The least she could do was trim the lawn before the guest of honor arrived.

  An hour to the minute after phoning Nelle, she pulled into Hunter’s driveway, parked, and headed across the street. Nelle opened the door and stepped out onto the porch with Joy. She beamed and helped the baby wave. “Hi, Mama!”

  Okay, she’d undercounted. Strokes of luck took all sorts of shapes and sizes, and two of them stood in front of her right now. She smiled and called, “Did y’all have fun?”

  “We did. Come on in and see how much she loves the bouncy chair. Plunk her in it, put it on vibrate, and she goes for a run.”

  As she climbed the porch steps, the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She turned and stared up and down the street. All quiet, as usual. She brushed her hand over her
neck and told the anxious skeptic inside her to back off the panic switch. Everything was perfectly fine.

  …

  “Jesus, I’m fucked up. Why’d you let me get so fucking fucked up, motherfucker?” He threw a punch at Beau’s shoulder but missed. The shifting beams of headlights from passing cars threw him off.

  Beau lifted one hand from the steering wheel and punched him the arm—and didn’t miss. “Hands off the driver.”

  “Ow.” Hunter slapped his palm over his burning bicep and winced. “You used your knuckle, bitch. That’s going to leave a mark.”

  “Consider yourself lucky I didn’t nail you in your big, numb skull.” He returned his gaze to the road. “I’m not taking the blame for your piss-poor judgment. Next time Reyes and Simmons issue a shot challenge, opt out.”

  “No next time.” The very thought made him want to hurl.

  “If it’s any consolation, when I poured Simmons out onto his doorstep, his wife leveled him with a stink-eye that withered my balls. He won’t be off his leash again anytime soon.”

  “Good.” Hunter leaned his head against the seat and closed his eyes, then opened them right away when his head spun. “Shit.”

  “Madison’s not going to shoot the stink-eye my way when I drag your sorry ass in, is she?”

  Hunter hadn’t told many people about his roommate situation, but spending back-to-back twelve-hour days in close quarters with a partner left few secrets. He’d been an invisible—and occasionally not-so-invisible—participant in Beau’s recent relationship drama with his fiancée Savannah, through a bullshit engagement that had turned real long before his partner had cared to admit, and an unplanned pregnancy that had forced Beau to face up to his feelings. Likewise, when it came to Hunter’s personal life, Beau knew the score. Mostly.

  Hunter squinted at the dashboard clock. Twelve thirty in the morning. She would probably be awake, finishing up Joy’s midnight feeding. “I doubt it. She’s crap-her-pants happy after her doctor’s appointment today.” Shit. He heard the scowl in his voice. Chances were good Beau had heard it, too.

  “She’s done with maternity leave?”

  “Yep.”

  “And that’s good, right?”

  “Sure.” He stared out the passenger window.

  “She’ll save up a couple paychecks and find a place to live. You get your house back.”

  “That’s the plan, I guess.”

  “And it’s not like she’s moving to another state. You’ll still see each other, but you’ll have the freedom to get together because you want to, not because you’re all stuck under the same roof.”

  “Right.” Except it didn’t feel like freedom, it felt like something important slipping out of his grasp.

  With absolutely no warning, Beau punched him in the arm again, hard enough to bounce his forehead against the window. “Ouch.” He touched his abused skull and glared at Beau. “What the fuck, man?”

  “Snap out of it. You don’t need complications in your life, remember? Especially not now.”

  He shifted around until he faced his partner. “It’s not just me. Madison has wants, too, and regaining her self-respect sits at the top of her list. An essensi…essensul… Dammit, an important part of that involves getting out on her own and providing for herself and Joy. I understand how she feels. I know what it’s like to look in the mirror and see a screwup, and I get how big a deal it is to rebuild self-respect.”

  Beau turned into Hunter’s driveway and cut the engine. “Sounds like you two are on the same page. Suck it up and stop moping like a limp dick. Don’t make me punch you again.”

  “You’re not driving anymore. You punch me again, I’m punching back.”

  “You couldn’t hit the side of a barn right now.”

  He knuckle-punched Beau in the thigh to prove him wrong and had the satisfaction of seeing his partner grit his teeth.

  “Son of a… All right, back off. We’re even.”

  “We are nowhere close to even.”

  Beau was silent for a moment, as if debating his next words. “Hunter, consider the timing and optics of this situation. It’s not your fault Madison and Joy ended up in the hospital again, or her car got towed. It’s not your problem that her funds are low and her living situation is sketchy. Yet you strapped on your boots and cape, and moved them in with you. You did it right at a time when you should be clearing your decks and focusing on your goals. Some might say you’re setting yourself up to fail.”

  Was he? Denial leapt to his throat, and he gave it a voice. “Some might not know shit.” He got out of the car and immediately staggered under the weight of all the gravity. Luckily, Beau got a shoulder under his arm and caught him.

  “Maybe not,” Beau admitted.

  Hunter tightened his arm around his partner’s shoulders and tried to reconnect his feet to the rest of his central nervous system. “Fuck it, if Ashley has her way, I’m not starting school in the fall anyhow.”

  Beau steered him toward the house. “She’ll write the letter.”

  “Not if she finds out what I’m doing,” he muttered.

  As if on cue, the front door opened and Madison stepped under the porch light, eyes huge in her concerned face.

  “Oh my God. Hunter, are you okay?”

  She started down the steps, barefoot, in one of his old T-shirts she wore so well and plaid flannel sleep pants. It couldn’t be more than thirty-five degrees outside. Belatedly, he realized Joy’s sperm-donor of a daddy, with his various vices, had probably stumbled home drunk off his ass more than once, and now, in her mind, he was pulling the same crap. He shook Beau off and offered her what he hoped was a sober-looking smile, while his stomach pitched. “Go on inside, baby, I’m fine.”

  Then he braced his hands on his knees and puked on his front lawn.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Hunter!” She hurried over to him, but he extended an arm and warned her away.

  “Step back, honey.”

  Madison looked around to confront the speaker and came face-to-face with Beau. He stood on Hunter’s other side, gripping the back of his sweater. “You don’t have a prayer of keeping a guy this size on his feet, and if he goes down, I don’t want you to be the one who breaks his fall.”

  Hunter groaned and wiped a forearm over his forehead. “I’m not going down.” But he lurched a bit as he straightened. Thankfully, Beau kept a secure hold on him.

  “You ready to go in?” he asked after a minute and slowly let go of Hunter. Testing to see if he’d stay on his feet.

  “Gimme a minute.” Sweat gleamed on his skin. He drew in a deep breath, and then another. Finally, he reached over his head and tugged his light blue V-neck sweater off. His white undershirt rode up a few inches in the process, and Madison couldn’t help appreciating the glimpse of taut back muscles and rippling obliques. But then he wiped his face with his sweater and groaned again, and she gave herself a mental kick for treating him like eye candy while he suffered.

  “What happened?”

  “He’s all right. Just had a little too much fun,” Beau replied and strapped an arm around Hunter’s waist.

  Hunter turned his blurry eyes to her. “Sorry. Joy okay?”

  She wrapped her arm around his waist from the other side and helped guide him up the porch steps. “She’s fine. Just went down after her midnight snack.”

  “Good.” His eyes wandered over her face, and then one corner of his mouth tipped up in a sloppy smile. “Damn, you’re pretty in the moonlight.”

  “Thanks,” Beau deadpanned.

  “Not you. Her. Looking at your ugly mug makes me want to hurl again.”

  Beau smirked as they led Hunter into the living room. “He says that now, but you watch. In about five minutes he’s going to pledge his undying love to me.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  They dropped Hunter onto the sofa, and then Beau patted the backpack slung over his shoulder. “Really? I’m about to save you from the worst hang
over of your life.”

  Hunter’s head fell back against the sofa cushion and his eyelids drooped. “You gonna shoot me?”

  Madison finger-combed his sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead and temples. “Why don’t we try a bottle of water and a couple of ibuprofen first?”

  Beau unzipped the pack and then reached in. “I’ve got something better.” He pulled out an IV pouch.

  Madison’s heart tripped, but Hunter grinned up at his partner. “I love you, man.”

  She clutched his arm, and pinned Beau with a stare of her own. “I thought you said he was okay?”

  “He is, but he’s going to be even better after I hydrate him.” To Hunter, he added, “You want to take a leak and brush your teeth before we get started?”

  Hunter pushed himself off the couch and shuffled to the bathroom, pulling his undershirt over his head as he went.

  When the bathroom door closed, she swung her attention back to Beau, who sat on the coffee table and began unpacking and arranging materials beside him—the IV bag, a line, a red plastic box, some white tape, a few packages of alcohol wipes, and a clear package containing what looked like a very long needle attached to a catheter. She swallowed hard. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  He didn’t look up, but his mouth stretched into a smile. “Don’t worry. I have plenty of experience administering the standard paramedic post-party cocktail.” He glanced over at her. “They teach this trick around the first week of paramedic school.”

  Oh, God. She couldn’t watch. She stood to go hide in the kitchen, but just then Hunter walked into the living room, stunningly naked except for a pair of black basketball shorts sitting low on his hips, and stretched out on the couch. Chest and arm muscles flexed as he tucked a throw pillow under his head. Maybe she should hang out a little longer. She perched on the arm of the sofa, just above Hunter’s head, and distracted herself with an inventory of all the hard planes and angles of his body.

  Beau taped the IV bag onto the wall above the couch. He inserted the tubing with the ease of someone who performed the task all the time, and then he filled and clamped the line.