by Anita DeVito
She took matters into her own hands. She lifted her hips and popped the button on his pants. His own need sprung free from the confining material, long and thick. She pushed the blankets aside, used her hand to stand his cock up, and slid down on to him, both of them crying at the intensity of the connection.
She rode him like he was the last horse in town. Her hips pushed him to limits he had never reached before. He was determined to be gentle, to give her a sweet rise, but she took his face in her hands and broke him.
He swore quietly as his body convulsed, giving Peach everything she demanded, everything he had.
She reared up, a thoroughbred mare in her prime. She flung her head back, her hair raining down her back, her hands reaching for heaven as her body imploded.
Her limp body draped over his, heat radiated, chasing any last visage of chill out of the air. He wrapped his arms around her, afraid to hold too tightly. “I love you. Never doubt that I love you exactly as you are.”
She lifted her head, her eyes glassy. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.” He pulled her back to his chest. “Rest now.”
“I hear beeping. Maybe I have water in my ears.”
“Um.” He tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the contraption next to the bed that was going off like a car alarm.
“That can’t be good.”
Tom brought the thin blanket over her as three bodies promptly filled her doorway. They stacked up Three Stooges-style two steps into the room.
Peach looked up at Tom, grinning ear to ear. “Busted.”
…
Two years, three months later…
“This is stupid,” Peach said as she sat at the dressing table in Carolina’s room.
“There is nothing stupid about wanting to make your wedding day special,” Carolina said.
“Not that.” She shoved back from the array of bottles and jars. “This.” She pointed to the beach ball that sat where her flat belly used to be. “All this white makes me look like a life buoy.”
Katie laughed. “You look like a sexy mama. Tom’s going to choke on his tongue when he sees you.”
She looked in the mirror and was blinded by the yards and yards and yards of virgin white that covered her full-term belly. “Why did I think I wanted white? I’m about as close to a virgin as a chicken is to a dog. And why do we have to have this fancy ceremony?” From the window, she watched Tom, Jeb, and Butch mingle with the growing crowd, hugging old friends, making new ones.
Poppy laughed from the middle of a circle of women, his old brown suit pressed sharp and crisp. Fixed to his arm, the Widow Teasdale navigated him through the maze of bodies and chairs. Emily McCormick sat on a white chair cuddling her grandbaby. John McCormick, Sr. chased a mischievous little redhead through the maze of chairs.
From the entryway, a tall couple in military dress stepped into the courtyard.
“Who invited them?” Peach said in a voice too high, too loud.
Carolina looked over her shoulder. “Who is ‘them?’”
She glared over her shoulder. “My parents.”
Carolina pursed her lips. “Tom and Poppy. Or Poppy and Tom. Not sure who was the dog and who was the tail on that one.”
She began pacing restlessly, her hand rubbing her lower back.
“Are you all right?” Katie asked her. “You look a little off.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m fine. I am.” She sighed heavily. “It must just be being pregnant, because I’m not nervous about getting married. Not even a little.” She stopped in her tracks and stretched her back.
“Does your back hurt?” Carolina asked.
Peach rolled her eyes. “It’s been hurting for six months. Talk about things nobody tells you about. Then it picks today of all days to start spasming.”
Katie looked at Carolina. Carolina looked at Katie.
They both looked at Peach.
“How long have these spasms been going on?” Carolina asked.
“They woke me up this morning. Damn annoying.”
“Have you noticed them getting closer together?” Katie asked.
“Well, yeah. A little. Stronger, too. Why?” Peach’s eyes widened with knowledge. “No. The baby isn’t due until Tuesday.”
“The little guys are notorious for not sticking to a calendar,” Katie said, scraping around the room for a watch. “Tell me when you have another one.”
Peach’s breath hitched. “Now.”
Carolina’s eyes widened. “What do we do?”
She let out her breath. “We move up the timetable and do this now.”
“Peach,” Carolina said, threatening to sound reasonable.
“I don’t want to hear it. Tom and I are going to be married before this little monster comes into the world if I have to sew myself shut!”
“Impressive,” Katie said. “Carolina, go talk to the boys. We are going live in five. I’ll call the doctor.”
Four minutes later, Peach stood with Carolina and Katie in the foyer of Jeb’s wing. The music started. Peach danced anxiously. “We’re next,” Katie said supportively.
“Uh oh.” The color drained from Peach’s face.
“What oh?” Carolina said, spinning on her heels.
“That oh,” Katie said, pointing to the puddle between Peach’s legs.
The music changed.
“Go,” Peach hissed. When her stubborn bride’s matrons didn’t move, she hissed at them. “This baby isn’t being born until I’m married. You’re wasting time.”
Katie threw the door open and sprinted into the courtyard. Carolina started to follow, but a contraction—Peach’s first real one—had the bride crying out as she fell to her knees.
“Katie!” Carolina called. “Get back here.”
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Peach said, using Carolina as leverage to crawl to her feet. “It just caught me by surprise. I’m good.”
Katie opened the door and was one step out when Peach moaned. “Take an arm,” Katie ordered Carolina. She pulled the door opened, propping it with her foot as they carried Peach out into the courtyard.
“What the hell?” Tom yelled, sprinting up the aisle, Jeb at his side.
“The baby’s coming,” Carolina said. “Now.”
“We need to get to the hospital,” he said, taking Peach’s weight himself.
“No! We. Are. Getting. Married. Now.”
Tom looked down at the determined set of her jaw and sighed. He lowered Peach to the ground. “Butch! Get over here.”
“What’s going on?” Butch asked as he came within earshot.
“She’s having a baby,” Tom said.
“Clyde, we’ve known that for months.”
“Now,” Tom shouted. “She’s having the baby now. Put that internet license to good use and marry us.”
Butch dug into the pocket of his suit and pulled out the words he’d spent nights preparing. Jeb put his big body between the happy couple and the crowd of bewildered on-lookers.
“We have a change in plan,” Jeb shouted. “It looks like the baby’s coming a bit early. If y’all just keep your seats, we’re going to get Tom and Peach hitched and then on their way to the hospital.”
“Is Doc here?” Tom asked.
Katie shook her head. “He’s out of town. Quilting bee convention. Who else do we know who can deliver a baby?”
“I read a few books on it,” Carolina said.
“And Nate is trained in field triage,” Jeb said.
“Get him,” Tom said. “Just in case.”
With a nod from Tom, Butch began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today.”
“Skip to the good part,” Peach said, bearing down on Tom’s hand.
“Who has a watch? Time the contractions,” Carolina said. “Katie, get some clean towels, hot water, clippers for the cord, and a baby suction bulb.”
Butch kept going. “You wrote your own vows. Tom, you first.”
He looked into Peach’s
eyes as he stroked her hair. “I, Thomas Riley, promise to keep you foremost in my every thought and action. I promise to love you, each and every day, like it was our first day together and to keep loving you until my last breath. I promise that from this day forward, you will never be lonely or afraid. I will cherish everything about you, from your razor-sharp brain to your mile-wide stubborn streak.”
Tears rolled down Peach’s cheeks as she reached up to touch Tom’s jaw. She was oblivious of the bustle of activity around her. The only thing that existed in that moment was Tom.
“Peach,” Butch prompted.
“I can’t remember the words I wrote,” she said, “so I’m just going to tell you what’s in my heart. I love you. I have loved you from that first night we trashed that hotel room, and I’ll love you long after I’m in a grave. There was a time when I didn’t think there was a place for me. I existed in between the pages of the world but wasn’t a part of them. I know life with me won’t always be the easiest, but you’ll never be bored or alone. You’ll never doubt that I love you more than anyone. I promise to be your partner, to be by your side as we take on whatever life throws at us.” She paused as another contradiction took her breath. “And if you ever touch me again, I’ll cut off your balls and shove them down your throat.”
Tom laughed and covered her mouth with his. “You are doing beautifully.”
“You aren’t going to make it to a hospital,” Carolina announced for her position between Peach’s legs. “Butch, wrap it up.”
Butch flipped the paper once, twice, and then cleared his throat. “By the power vested in me by the Great State of Tennessee, I now pronounce you man and wife.”
The yards of white were pushed out of the way as Carolina made room to work. She couldn’t move fast enough as the little man was determined to make his debut. “He’s crowning. Push, Peach. Push. You’re doing great. Again. Push.”
Peach arched with a roar that was answered by the first cry of her son.
Carolina and Nate worked quickly to wrap the newborn in warm cloth. Carolina cleaned Peach up while Nate carried the precious bundle to the arms of his father.
Tom sat on the ground, awe struck by the baby in his arms. He had a shock of dark hair, and his sunkissed skin was healthy and perfect. “Look, Mommy,” he said softly. “Isn’t he beautiful?” The baby blinked twice, showing off pale green eyes. Tom leaned down and held their son against his wife.
Tears of joy rolled from Peach’s eyes. “Look what we did, Tom. Look what we did. Happy birthday, Patrick Thomas Riley.”
Jeb’s voice boomed over the courtyard. “It’s a boy,” he shouted to the eruption of cheers and clapping.
Tom sat back on his heels, watching his son burrow against Peach’s warm skin. He looked around the courtyard, one that he had been a part of building with his own hands. The one that Katie and Butch had married in, then Jeb and Carolina. Now he and Peach.
He looked down and squeezed her hand at the odd look on her face. “What’s wrong? Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She pulled him close, burrowing against him. “Something about this feels like the end to me. We’re just three couples, married with children. Do you think the excitement will end?”
He laughed as they cuddled their son. “Look at the cast of characters surrounding us. We have a blonde that looks like a princess, biting her lip as she executes a procedure she’d only read about. A redhead with a touch of mischief in her eye is giggling with the county music star and the soldier. Grandparents are fighting the crowd to get closer to what was theirs. Friends clapping and hooting it up and always, there’s music.” Just as he finished, a hundred-pound black lab made an appearance, looking down at Peach, wondering what she was doing on the ground. Then, deciding it was a good idea, laid his full length down beside her.
She laughed and cupped her husband’s strong jaw. A cocky smile settled in on her lips. “You’re right. I think we are just getting to the interesting part.”
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Acknowledgements
So many people were kind enough to get sucked into my world and share their knowledge with me. Any mistakes are solely my own. Thank you, John, for the use of your truck and the good, crazy times. No one would believe the stories were true if I put them in a book. Thank you, Matt, for everything you taught me about cranes and construction safety. Thank you, Aaron, for the many conversations on all topics water-craft. Maybe the next story will have a competitive water skier who likes to fiddle with calipers. Thanks to Kristen and Josh for helping Peach break into the computers. Thank you to my editors Jennifer and Jessica for the time and energy you invested. This story was good, because of you, it’s damn good. Finally, thanks to Kyra Jacobs for patiently listening and helping whip this story into shape. Help me pay her back…buy her books.
About the Author
Anita DeVito is a Cleveland, Ohio, native who grew up on a diet of mysteries, rock-n-roll, and her nonna’s homemade pasta. By day, she works as a Civil Engineer unraveling the mysteries of water challenges, while by night, she applies her talents to the vexing question of “Who dunnit?” Visit Anita’s website at www.AnitaDeVitoWrites.com for more information on her fast-paced style of storytelling and to sign up for her news-less newsletter, Equinoxious. Start every season with short stories, games, puzzles, and some brain teasing fun. Anita lives with her husband, two sons, and two ornery dogs.
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