Them (Him #3)

by Carey Heywood

  Logan loved all of his presents. I’ve spent the last couple of days either trying not to fall off my old skateboard or showing him how to pass a lacrosse ball in the backyard. Passing the ball is fun, unless either of us misses and Rascal is outside. She goes nuts after the balls, and they’re a bitch to get back from her.

  After we opened our presents here Christmas morning, we picked my mom up and headed over to Sarah’s parents’ house for brunch and to open even more presents. I know Sarah was bummed we couldn’t tell anyone about the baby. It makes sense to wait, though. Besides, Sawyer and Jared are coming down to visit. We’re having a New Year’s get-together, and I have a feeling Sawyer and Christine will figure it out as soon as they notice Sarah not drinking.

  I glance up at her, grinning when I notice her toying with the locket I got her for Christmas. It’s empty now, but I know she can’t wait to put our baby’s picture in it. Considering the amount of money she spent on the new camera lens she got me, there’s a decent chance I’ll be taking the picture.

  “What do you think of Amber?”

  I was so distracted I didn’t realize Sarah had set down her book and was now looking at me.

  “She seems shy,” I reply.

  Sarah nods. “I like her.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “After ten minutes?”

  She smirks. “Yes, after only ten minutes.”

  That response right there is Sarah through and through. She’s quick to trust, so open and loving with those around her, even people she’s just met. It’s one of the things I love most about her, and I can only hope our baby inherits that from her.

  “All I know is I’m not ready to be a grandparent,” I tease.

  Her forehead wrinkles. “But they’re so young. You don’t think . . .”

  I stop her before she gets too worked-up. “No. From what I know of Logan, anything above and beyond having a conversation with her is not on his radar.”

  Sarah exhales, relief evident in her expression. “After everything you see in the news with kids these days, though . . .” She trails off as her eyes lower to watch her hand drift over her stomach.

  Looking back up at me, she continues, “I wonder what things will be like when our kids are Logan’s age.”

  Time to nip this thought spiral in the bud before she makes herself sick with worry over what imagined struggles the future may bring. “All I know is that with you as their mom, everything will be all right.”

  She gulps, her eyes never leaving mine. “Do you think I’ll make a good mom?”

  She’s too far away for me to answer her question properly. I lean forward, scooping her up in my arms and turning till I’m in her spot with her sitting in my lap. My fingers link behind her back, my arms loosely draped around her. Our foreheads touch as I stare into the eyes of the woman I’ve loved for more than half my life.

  “I know you will be the best mom our kids could ever dream of.”

  Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she replies, her voice thick. “I know you’re going to be such a good daddy.”

  It’s uncanny how the complete confidence in her words affects me. There are few things I want out of life: to be a good husband, a good teacher, and, more than ever, a better father than I had.

  “All I need is you by my side, darling.”

  She melts against me, resting her head on my shoulder.

  Both of our heads turn toward the kitchen when Logan calls out that he and Amber will be in the backyard.

  “Should I make sure he put on a hat?” Sarah asks innocently.

  My only response is a bark of laughter, loud enough for Rascal to shift in her sleep.

  “Why do you think that’s funny?” she grumbles.

  I coax her head back onto my shoulder before looping my arms around her again. “It’s not that cold out.”

  She humphs but lets it go. I go back to watching my game and before long, she’s fallen asleep. Her daily naps have increased since we found out she was pregnant. At first, I was worried it meant something was wrong, but it turns out that it’s completely normal.

  All I know about pregnancies is from what I’ve seen in movies or from Christine and Sawyer. Brian and Jared both doted on them during their pregnancies, and now it’s my turn. It’s unnerving, knowing this miracle is growing inside of Sarah right now. In a way, I’m helpless, only able to watch as Sarah alone bears the brunt of that.

  I’ll do anything in my power to make her as comfortable and content while she carries our baby. There’s no doubt about it, I’d give her the world if I could. After our doctor appointment, she bought a couple of books to give us an idea of what to expect. One of the books is a brick, each chapter broken down by month.

  Sarah’s probably read the first-trimester section ten times already. I’m behind the ball since I haven’t even read it once. I’d go grab it now if I wasn’t scared moving would wake her. If only it was the book she was fake-reading earlier. Nope, until Logan finds out about the baby, she’s keeping anything baby-related in our bedroom.

  I have a couple of options: I can move her and probably wake her, or I can lean back and watch my game while the love of my life is snuggled against me.

  No-brainer.

  An hour later, Sarah stirs, lifting her head to blink her pretty brown eyes at me.

  “Did I fall asleep?” she asks, groggily.

  I brush her cheek with my fingertips. “You did.”

  Her forehead wrinkles up as she frowns. “Did I miss saying bye to Amber?”

  Her worried expression slays me.

  I shake my head. “No, darling. They came back inside about thirty minutes ago and are working in the kitchen.”

  Her features immediately soften at the news.

  “Why were you so worried?”

  She shrugs, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “I think Logan likes her, and after everything he’s been through that makes me happy.”

  The beauty of her love, even when it’s not directed my way, astounds me.

  When I don’t speak, she hurriedly continues, “I’m silly, I know.”

  “Stop.” I lean forward to hush her lips with a quick brush of mine. “You are the most amazing person I know.”

  Her eyes start to glisten as she quickly tries to blink her tears away and lifts her hands to dab her fingertips at the corners of her eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I confess, squeezing her gently.

  “I’m just emotional, I guess,” she rasps.

  She stands, mumbling something about offering the kids a snack, with Rascal trailing after her as she makes her way to the kitchen to spy on them. I’d tease her about it, but I think it’s cute.

  “Will, honey, can the kids borrow one of your tripods?” she asks, walking back into the living room with a drink in her hand.

  Logan and Amber are behind her.

  “Are you two ready to start filming?” I ask, getting up from the couch.

  Logan glances at Amber before answering. “We’ve written the script and thought it might be a good idea to do a run-through to see if the spot we picked in the backyard will work.”

  “All right, give me a minute and I’ll grab one.”

  All of my camera gear is in a spare bedroom we’ve converted into a home office for me upstairs. I have more than one tripod, so I grab a sturdy but heavy one for the kids to use and lug it downstairs and outside for them. I picked this one since it’ll be near impossible for them to break it.

  Sarah stands off to the side as I explain to Logan and Amber where and how to mount their smart phones. I offered to let them use our video camera, but they weren’t interested, something about having an app to make gifs for Instagram. Things sure have changed since Sarah and I were in school.

  As a teacher, I’ve seen the progression first hand. Now, with Sarah carrying our baby, I’m curious to see how different our child’s future will be. Logan tilts his head toward the house in a silent plea for Sarah and me to go back inside. S
he pouts as we walk back to the house, looking back over her shoulder a couple times, hoping Logan changed his mind. I can’t disguise my chuckle as I drape my arm around her shoulders.

  She claims to need to put away laundry once we’re inside, but the real reason she wants to be in our bedroom is the clear view of the backyard. I’m not clairvoyant, but I don’t need to be to see a lifetime of her driving our kids crazy in the future.

  “Will.”

  Her shrieked cry has me taking the stairs two at a time to get to her. She’s standing at the window, her hands clutched to her chest.

  “What’s wrong?” I pant, catching my breath.

  Her dancing brown eyes find mine as she grins. “Logan just helped Amber up and then they stood there holding hands for a minute. They aren’t doing it anymore.” She shakes her head at me. “You missed it.”

  My mouth drops open before I can respond. I clamp it shut and frown. “I thought you were hurt.”

  Her lips form the letter “O” when she realizes I’m annoyed. She leaves the window and crosses the room to kiss my cheek.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I was excited.”

  My tension ebbs as I stare into her warm eyes. “Let’s lay off on the matchmaking for the rest of today, okay?”

  Sarah

  Now everyone knows.

  We told Sawyer, Jared, Christine and Brian on New Year’s. Sawyer surprised me by promptly bursting into tears. Even more shocking was when Brian had to turn away to discretely wipe his eyes.

  Christine was thrilled that we’d both have babies in the same year. She’s looking more ready to pop every day, though. She’s not due until May, me not until September.

  Logan’s reaction broke my heart. He asked if he’d be going to live with someone else since he wasn’t family. Will and I had a long talk with him, letting him know he would always have a home with us. That even though we aren’t related by blood, we think of him as part of our family and always will. I’m not sure if he believed us, but he hasn’t mentioned living anywhere else since.

  Will’s mom was over the moon that we’re expecting her first grandbaby. My parents are no less thrilled, it just isn’t their first time. Mrs. Price, or Mama Price as Sawyer calls her, has taken to stopping by at least twice a week. She times her visits so we can have some one-on-one time before Will and Logan get home and then stays for dinner.

  “How are you feeling?” She reaches over to pat my hand.

  “Christine said the exhaustion is supposed to wear off after the first trimester, but unfortunately it hasn’t yet. I feel useless,” I confess.

  “Has the morning sickness gotten any better?”

  I shake my head, mentally correcting her assumption that I’m only sick in the morning. Sadly, it seems to be all-day sickness in my case. With the exception of my prenatal vitamin, I’m currently existing on ginger ale and saltines. As much as I love her, I’m sick with envy every time I see Christine these days.

  She has energy in spades, jogging every day with Calvin in his stroller, and she’s head-to-toe got that pregnancy glow thing going on. On my best day, my skin is tinged with a shade of green that would make the Wicked Witch of the West jealous. My multiple trips to the bathroom spent dry-heaving haven’t done anything to erase the bags and dark circles that have taken permanent residence under my eyes.

  If I had more energy, I’d probably worry about Will losing any desire for me, but these days I’m even too tired to stress myself out.

  “I’ll cook tonight,” she offers, loving the opportunity to help out.

  I give her my best grateful smile but considering she shooed me off to take a nap, I don’t think it worked.

  The noises coming from downstairs when I wake let me know Will and Logan are home. I stop by the bathroom before I go down to greet them. One glance in the mirror and I have to admit that nap helped. I don’t look my normal awful, and considering I managed a shower earlier I look half-good. I’m halfway down the stairs when Will hears me and comes to meet me.

  “There’s my girl.” He takes my hand and squeezes it. “How are you feeling today?”

  He’s been worrying himself sick over me. I’m certain he’s called the doctor no less than a dozen times since our last appointment.

  “Human,” I joke.

  “That’s good news.” He brushes his fingertips up my cheek and over my hair, then down to gently grip the back of my neck.

  Leaning down, he touches his lips to mine. “It’s good to see you’re feeling better.”

  “You worry too much,” I whisper.

  “I gotta take care of my girl,” he counters, unapologetically.

  “How was school?” I ask, as he leads me toward the kitchen.

  “The kids were not impressed that Vincent Van Gogh cut off his own ear in the name of love.”

  My eyes bug out and before I can ask, he explains, “It was my idea for something Valentine themed to learn about him.”

  “You are so morbid.” I laugh. “That’s so not cool, traumatizing those kids like that.”

  “Please.” He smirks. “It’s better than having them paint hearts.”

  “Remember the conversation heart still-life project you had them do last year?”

  He nods.

  “It was hearts and still clever.”

  He still has a habit of chewing on the corner of his lip when he’s considering something.

  “There was one kid who painted anti-love messages on all of his hearts. They were great.”

  “Do you remember what any of them said?”

  We pause in the hallway before we reach the kitchen and he nods. “Instead of ‘be mine’ one of them said ‘be gone’ and another one said ‘not you’ instead of ‘luv you.’”

  “How unromantic,” I reply.

  “He didn’t gain any dates from it.”

  “Speaking of dates,” I change the subject. “Do you want to do anything for Valentine’s Day?”

  “Aren’t I in charge of the wooing around here?”

  “Wooing?” I laugh, leaning forward with my hand on his chest to hold myself up.

  Will has this incredible super power of looking both incredibly adorable and sexy as sin simultaneously when he’s annoyed. It works in his favor, so he always gets his way because I’m too busy trying to decide whether I should cuddle him or drop my panties. He uses that moment of weakness while I’m lost in indecision against me every time.

  “I give good woo,” he teases, recognizing I’m currently under his spell.

  His arm snakes up my back until his fingers thread my hair at the base of my skull. Tugging me forward till my body is flush to the hard muscle of his own, he dips his lips to nibble at my jaw line as I suck in a breath.

  His 5 o’clock shadow is deliciously rough against the sensitive skin of my neck.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking.” His words caress against my ear. “Logan is spending the night at Mom’s. I’ve made a reservation to your favorite tapas restaurant. From there, we’ll stop and get waffle cones and once we’re home, I’m going to have my way with you all night.”

  Neither of us speaks when he lifts his head to meet my eyes.

  Finally, he adds, “That work for you?”

  I nod. “If I wasn’t already knocked-up, I think your words alone could have impregnated me.”

  His lips tip up, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiles warmly at me. I hope I’ll never lose the way a sweet smile from my husband can light me up from the inside out.

  Any chance I have to tell him this is interrupted by his mom clearing her throat and saying, “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Can I do anything to help?” My offer is lame and most likely too late, but I was raised to pitch in. Besides, it will help ease my guilt over her cooking for all of us in the first place.

  “It is all finished, dear,” she replies, linking her arm through mine and moving us both toward the dining room table.

  The table is set, drinks already poured and dishes
brimming with pasta, chicken, vegetables and rolls. There’s too much food for just the four of us, and I realize she’s done it purposefully so we’ll already have another meal ready to go from the leftovers. At the table, she sits to my right, with the both of us facing the boys.

  I reach out to clasp her hand in mine and thank her. Knowing the woman she is today makes me mourn the mother Will did not have growing up. Back then, she was cold, living but only barely doing that. She pushed Will away, terrified to form attachments after the death of his older sister. His whole entire life could have changed.

  If he had felt more at home in his own house, would he have ever come to spend the time he had at mine instead? It’s sad but if Mama Price had been a better mother, there’s a chance Will and I wouldn’t be together today. Our paths in life shape us; they have both the opportunity to break us or strengthen us depending on our own unique circumstances.

  I lost seven years I could have spent with the love of my life, all because I was an immature eighteen-year-old who lacked the confidence to believe someone like Will could love me the way he did. That is my burden to live with. I plan to spend the rest of my life making certain that man knows how much I love him and enjoying and trusting in the fact that he loves me the same.

  I choose not to live in the regret of what might have been in those seven years we lost. It is possible that, as Will needed to be more at home in my house growing up, we also needed time apart to grow as individuals and understand how beautiful we are together.

  After dinner, Will follows his mom home. She sold the house Will grew up in last year and moved into a condo not far from our house. She’s made many changes in choosing to live life versus only existing in it, but Will still gets nervous when she drives at night.

  Logan helps me with the dishes, but considering Mrs. Price cleaned the pots and pans she used, there wasn’t much to clean. When we’re finished, Logan goes to take Rascal for a walk around the block and I make myself comfortable in the living room. I’ve barely sat down by the time Will is back. He’s shaking his head as he walks in the door.