Unchained

by Suzanne Halliday

  But if he was stupefied, she was, well, she was blown straight out of the water and still drip-drying on the line. It might be some time before she was able to string more than a couple of coherent words together.

  Pregnant.

  That was right, folks. Stephanie Bennett. Age fifty. Engaged to the most wonderful guy on the planet. Pregnant.

  Had a bun in the oven.

  Knocked up.

  Eating for two.

  In the family way.

  What the friggin hell is the universe thinking?

  She’d been a nervous wreck during the doctor’s visit. Convinced her time as a fertile woman had screeched to a sudden halt, she was prepared to hear a totally different diagnosis than the one she got.

  After a battery of tests and bloodwork, she was dressed once more and sitting mutely next to her man as they waited for the doctor to come in and give them the wretched news that she was a dried-up old lady. Past her prime and slowly turning to dust. Had her thoughts been a bit overdramatic? Yes. Yes, they had.

  Nothing in her lifetime of experiences prepared Stephanie for the words the smiling doctor used when she joined them in the quiet office and sat behind the desk.

  “All good news,” she began. “First, the bloodwork was fabulous. I see no reason not to give up a high five for taking excellent care of your health.”

  Calder let out a huge sigh of relief.

  And then the planet tilted slightly.

  “Now, as to what’s been causing the appetite changes and the dizziness.”

  She held her breath. Here it comes, she thought. Expecting to be gently told she was getting old and should just relax and accept it, the doctor opened her mouth and said something, but she was sure at the last second the medical professional started talking in tongues or something because all Stephanie heard was a garbled jumble of sounds.

  Then Calder wildly blurted out, “Say again?”

  Oh good, she thought. It wasn’t just her.

  She examined the doctor’s face and saw mild amusement.

  “I said you’re pregnant. Congratulations, Mrs. Bennett.”

  At that, Calder’s head jerked and he sat up straight.

  Remembering the shocking announcement, Stephanie rubbed her fingers on her stomach and smiled to herself. She’d had maybe thirty seconds of freefalling shock, and then this feeling of perfect calm enveloped her. Everything around her seemed to be moving at supersonic speed, but she just sat there, her head down, as she stared at her flat belly and let the awe sweep her away.

  Oh. Oh, my god. Pregnant. Should she have been afraid? Well, she wasn’t. In those few moments, her whole life made perfect sense.

  She and Calder made a baby.

  Holy Hannah.

  “But I’m fifty,” she finally muttered to the chuckling doctor. “Who has a baby at fifty?”

  “Well, Janet Jackson for one,” the doctor announced with glee. “Birth rates among mothers forty-eight and older have grown steadily in the last decade. Now granted, you two hit the daily double.”

  “What’s that mean?” Calder barked.

  Stephanie reached for his hand and held on tight.

  “It means,” she said warmly, “you made a baby the old-fashioned way. Without intervention. That’s a mighty impressive feat and should tell you how much this baby wants to be born!”

  The doctor kept talking, and her man kept on asking a steady stream of questions, but Stephanie couldn’t remember hearing any of it. All she could do was stare at her stomach, touch it reverently, and try to keep breathing.

  The doctor was laughing. “This isn’t my first rodeo with a fifty-year-old mama-to-be. You came to the right practice, Mrs. Bennett,” she assured her.

  Every time she called her Mrs. Bennett, Calder reacted.

  “Please, Doctor Murphy. Call me Stephanie.”

  “Well, Stephanie,” she replied. “You guys are going to be bombarded with questions, so to help you out, here are just a few names to throw around that’ll give you some breathing room. Halle Berry—forty-seven. Nancy Grace—forty-eight. Beverly D’Angelo—twins at forty-nine. And Marty Scorsese’s wife, Helen—fifty-two.”

  Much later, loaded up with folders of printouts and pamphlets galore, samples of stretch mark creams, and an expectant mommy gift bag crammed with coupons, they’d walked in a trance to the parking lot, somehow located the correct vehicle, and gotten on the road.

  And now, here they were, practically zooming down a desert highway doing a whopping—she looked at the speedometer again—thirty miles an hour.

  “Are you cool enough?” Calder asked. Adjusting the vents, he fiddled with the digital temperature display. “Too cold?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He handled the car with the intensity and focus of a Formula One driver racing at a hundred and fifty miles an hour.

  “Music,” he muttered a minute or so later. “Do you want music?”

  The car jostled as they drove over a patch of rough road. She shifted in her seat, and the next thing she knew, he was frantic. “Are you okay?” He slowed down. Thank god the other drivers could go around them.

  “Pull over when you can,” she told him.

  They were several yards off the pavement and coming to a quick stop before she finished speaking. His seat belt unbuckled, and he was out the driver’s door in a flash. Sprinting around the front of the car, he reached her door and yanked it open. Crouching next to her, he ran his hands everywhere and mumbled about making sure she was all right.

  “It was a pothole, honey. Not a four-car collision. Nothing’s broken. Please relax.”

  “Oh, my god. Are you fucking serious?” he groaned. “Relax? There’s no relaxing, Duchess. I have to do something,” he said in a tortured voice. Standing, he did that thing Alex always did when he was stressed—ran his hand back and forth through his hair. “Have to keep you safe. And healthy.” He turned wild eyes on her face with a searching, near-hysterical look. “Are you thirsty? What about hungry? The doctor said you should eat something every hour or so. When was the last time we ate? Oh my god,” he lamented yet again.

  Were all expectant fathers this way? She couldn’t remember Daniel being unglued like this. But then again, Daniel hadn’t been a card-carrying bachelor in his fifties when she got pregnant. At the time, they figured there’d be even more babies down the road. The reminder was bittersweet ‘cause that wasn’t the hand they’d been dealt.

  Calder hadn’t been so lucky. Never married and with no kids, she was pretty damn sure a baby at his age wasn’t on his bucket list.

  Seeing him lose it gave her even more to love.

  Unbuckling the belt, she quickly scrambled from the vehicle and ran to him. “Honey,” she drawled. “You need to get a grip.”

  She’d never seen him like this. The man she knew was unflappable. Nothing rattled his cage, and unless he was rambling on about telescopes and quasars or the reflective heliostats at a solar farm in California he wanted to visit, Calder Dane was one of the coolest customers she’d ever encountered.

  Until today. Today, he lost his composure in spectacular fashion.

  He remained totally unglued until she touched him. When Stephanie laid a hand on his arm, he jolted back from wherever his thoughts had taken him and zeroed in on one thing. Her.

  She tried a warm smile. He just continued to look like a lunatic.

  “What did I do?” he groaned.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake! He was being ridiculous. It wasn’t the end of the world.

  “What did you do?” she teased playfully. Pulling his arm, she fed it around her waist until they locked in a close embrace. “I’ll tell you what you did, Mr. Dane.”

  “Stephanie,” he ground out in an attempt to shut her down. Nice try but she wasn’t having it.

  “You made love to me. Glorious, panty-melting, heart-stopping, put a towel underneath my butt, passionate love.”

  Got his attention now, she almost giggled out loud.

&n
bsp; “And guess what, you crazy longhaired baby booming surfer! We made a baby together. Oh my god, Calder!” She was squealing now and hopping on her toes excitedly. “We’re having a baby! You’re gonna be a daddy!”

  She’d always remember many sweet moments of their times together. He was just that kind of a guy. But this one was going to stay with her forever. As she bubbled over with joy, his bottom lip began to wobble, and he swallowed a few times. When he sniffed and she searched his eyes, she found sparkling tears, and one was already cascading down his cheek. A choking sob followed. Just one. He quickly reeled it in and held her tighter.

  “A baby,” he whispered.

  “Yep.” She grinned at him.

  “I’m going to be a father.”

  Stephanie grasped his face with both hands. “This is one lucky kid to have you as a daddy.” Kissing him softly, she waited until his response was assured, then surrendered to the emotional connection they shared.

  They stood along the side of the road, wrapped in each other, sealing the extraordinary position they found themselves in with a long, slow, passionate kiss. When they separated, she had nothing except a happy smile to offer. “You can drive the speed limit, you know.”

  He laughed. “Sorry. Feeling a bit scattered.”

  She hugged him tightly. Inhaling his delicious scent, she felt her tummy rumble. Time to address some priorities.

  “Okay, big guy. Take me home. I have to pee, and I’m suddenly ravenous.”

  If they were more than ten feet from the car, it’d be a miracle, but that didn’t stop her sexy fiancé from swinging her into his arms and carrying her to the car. Her feet never touched the ground as he placed her on the passenger seat, got her settled, and solemnly strapped her in—checking the seat belt more than once.

  When he was ready and in a mind to actually drive, they pulled out onto the highway and made for the Villa. They had news there was no way in hell they could hope to keep to themselves. One look at her befuddled man and everyone would know something was up.

  Oh my god, she mentally giggled for the hundredth time. I’m pregnant!

  “I’M SO HAPPY to have you home, Irish,” Lacey gushed. “Have you any idea how much we all missed you guys?”

  “Aw, sweetie,” Meghan countered drolly. “Nice of you to keep saying, but let’s get real. Alex and I are fine. We’re home. It’s all good. But I’m interested in hearing about you. Are you guys hanging in there? I was so worried and upset when Alex finally let me in on what’s been happening here. Lace. Sis. Tell me the truth. Are you okay?”

  After quite a lengthy pause, Meghan thought the phone had gone dead. She looked at the screen to make sure they were still connected.

  “Um, Lacey?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Just getting my ducks in a row. Wish Dylan felt better so I could come up to the house.”

  Of course. Meghan smiled wistfully at the hint of anxiousness she detected. Lacey needed both of them.

  “No. You stay put. We’ll come to you.” She laughed. “Guess we’re making the rounds, first thing. Sheesh! I’ve barely had time to catch my breath.”

  “Life goes on even if we step away for a bit.”

  Wow. It never failed to make her stop and think whenever Cameron’s ponytailed wife came out with an expression or sentiment that belied her youth. Sometimes, she was the wisest one of their whole group.

  In the background, she made out the sound of the baby complaining. He was one grumpy little man and kept getting louder.

  “Sounds like you had better go be the mom. We’ll stop by in a little while, okay?”

  Lacey snickered. “Not going anywhere. That boy blows his daddy out of the water when it comes to being a big ol’ bear when he doesn’t feel well.”

  It was good to be home.

  “I’ve missed you. Missed Dylan too. Big hugs, sweetie. See ya later.”

  The call ended and Meghan picked her way around the kitchen. Running her hands on the counters, she arranged the way a copper pot hung or an object was placed. She picked a few dead leaves off a potted spider plant and washed her hands using a pump of the organic almond hand soap she missed smelling. Betty mixed it for her special using a secret recipe she swore was a family hand-me-down—until the day she admitted, with gales of laughter, that it was actually something she found on Pinterest.

  Humming lightly, she did a little twirl with her arms out right in the middle of the enormous kitchen. She remembered Alex shrugging off her astonishment at the custom-designed space the first time she saw it. It was true what they said—the kitchen was the heart of the home, and this one was the perfect setting.

  Breaking into song because the acoustics were fantastic, Meghan danced from one end of the space to the other as if she was starring in a music video, belting out Shania Twain’s, “You’re Still the One,” with stage-worthy panache.

  Applause startled her when she growled the last few bars. Completely surprised, she twirled around with such speed and determination that she had to stop herself by grabbing the counter when everything started to wobble.

  “Whoa, honey. Easy does it, Shania,” Alex drawled like a sexy man-beast.

  “You scared me,” she said in a rush. Waiting for her head to stop spinning took a few seconds longer than her response.

  When she was able to focus, what she saw first was her husband’s face wearing a mask of intense scrutiny. What beautiful gold sparkles, she thought. Deep in the center of his eyes.

  He’d asked a question. She tore her gaze away from his expressive eyes and blinked to clear her thoughts.

  “Meghan. Did you eat something?”

  He was such a good man. Always so concerned about her well-being. She twined her arms around his neck and clung to him.

  “Yes. Carmen fed me. I think you’re beautiful,” she babbled nonsensically.

  Her hunky alpha smirked. “I think you’re beautiful too. And I’m glad Carmen made you eat.”

  She beamed at him. Lowering her voice to a husky murmur, she told him, “I told Lacey we’d stop by later. Maybe after we take a nap.”

  “Oh”—he chuckled—“a nap? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

  Shrugging, she did a little shimmy down his front and sighed. “My ma was always big on naps. Now, I know why. But if you want me to be direct, how’s this, Major? Make love to me. Right now. Pick a surface, any surface, and then please,” she begged with a giggle. “Please have your wicked way with me. Please.” She shimmied again and cried, “Please!”

  Yelping with surprise when he gave her ass a hearty swat, he chided her for being a naughty wife as she picked at the buttons on his shirt. Every time she undid one, he’d follow along and button it right back up.

  “Behave yourself, woman.” Her husband’s husky growl did absolutely nothing to cool her desire. That was until he informed her, “Blue steel is waiting for his auntie. Better get a move on and go grab him ‘cause the little bugger has gone mobile, and lemme tell you, the kid is fast!”

  She shrieked with delight. “Why didn’t you say so?” Swatting him on the chest, she shoved him aside and smoothed down her dress. Two seconds ago, she had wanted to mount him like the stallion he was. Remind her one of the babies was down the hall, he was all but forgotten, and she was running.

  Tori felt better for confiding in Alex. He loved Draegyn, sometimes more than a brother, but he wasn’t immune to his faults. He wasn’t ignorant of his good traits, either. To be fair, whatever was going on wasn’t one-sided. They were both equally responsible.

  Telling him about the doctor was cathartic. Until she was saying the words, she more or less forgot that he knew better than most what post-anything depression was like. Pragmatic to the end, he focused more on what she needed to heal rather than how she got there. Maybe now that Big Daddy was home, he could help her and Draegyn get back on track.

  “Where is he?” she heard a mellifluous voice cry out. “Where’s my nephew?”

  She gasped. A shot of ha
ppiness, like the adrenaline rush of all time, propelled her toward the voice with a high-pitched shriek of delight.

  “Irish!” Tori screamed joyfully.

  They met right inside her office doorway—hugging and jumping up and down, their arms around each other, just like two teenage girls. After some tears and many more hugs, Tori led Meghan toward Daniel’s play zone, shooed Zeus aside, and gave her a little push.

  “Go ahead,” she encouraged with a smile. “He doesn’t bite. Not yet,” she added sardonically.

  Meghan just stood there, her hands clasped in the middle of her chest, staring at Tori’s son. She had tears in her eyes when she looked over and said, “Tori, he’s so beautiful. And big!”

  “I know, right?” She giggled. “What a difference a few months makes, huh?”

  Daniel seemed to understand he was the center of attention and watched them while destroying a squishy rubber teething ball as drool dripped from his chin. He was a sloppy, baby mess, but that didn’t stop Meghan from leaning over the pen and lifting him into her arms.

  “Blue steel, indeed.” Tori heard her friend chuckle.

  Looking at Meghan, she said pithily, “So I guess by now, we assume he’s keeping the blue eyes, hmm?”

  Arching a brow to mock the answer she gave, Tori drawled, “At least, there’s no question who did the deed.”

  “Good grief, Victoria! I forgot about that smart mouth of yours.”

  She watched as her dearest friend threw herself into a total love encounter with her more-than-happy-to-take-it son. They kissed and snoodled. Giggled and yelled with happiness. Meghan danced around singing happily, and Daniel rocked and gurgled right along with her.

  It was a perfect moment inside a shitstorm.

  “Now it feels like we’re home.” Alex chuckled from the doorway. He winked at Meghan and gave Tori a half eye roll when his wife kept right on dancing around the room.

  “Look at that,” he mocked. Holding up his watch, he tapped it for emphasis. “Relegated to second-class status in favor of another dude and it’s only been an hour. Guess the honeymoon is officially over.”