Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  “My momma was supposed to be here with us,” she cries, resting her temple against my own.

  “I know, baby, but I’m right here with you, and I’m not going to leave your side,” I whisper, refraining from letting myself lose control as I’d done earlier.

  Dear God, I’m not ready for this.

  Abigail peeks her head into the room to inform us the ambulance is on its way.

  As I remain at Kelly’s side, trying my best to distract her as Lupe has instructed, the seconds gradually turn into minutes. The minutes feel as if they’re dragging. For nearly an hour, Kelly has me clenching my teeth each time she squeezes my hand. Her grip is that of a bodybuilder attempting to squeeze water out of solid cement.

  By this time, I’m sitting behind Kelly, cradling her against my chest to support her. I’m nearly in tears hearing her struggle through the excruciating pain, wishing there was a way for me to take it for her. I’ve have already lost count of how many times I’ve shouted out, demanding they check on the status of the ambulance, when Abigail enters the with a somber expression.

  “They’re not coming, are they?” Kelly panics.

  “There’s a really bad storm and apparently a tree has fallen on the main road leading to the cabin. They’ve called a crew to try to remove it, but until they do, the ambulance cannot get through.”

  Just our fucking luck.

  When Kelly cries out she feels the need to push, I beg her to wait. Our child commands otherwise and has Lupe checking her status once more. When she emerges from between Kelly’s thighs, she informs us she is fully dilated and the baby is already crowning.

  “She can’t have the baby here,” I dispute, imagining every dreadful scenario that can occur during delivery.

  Kelly is hunching forward with a contraction, sending another jolt of pain up my arm, informing me she isn’t waiting.

  Lupe is entirely focused between my wife’s thighs when she claims, “We don’t have a choice. Your baby is coming.”

  “Are you serious?” The lightheadedness has returned.

  Lupe shouts orders to Abigail and Victoria like a general to her troops, demanding clean towels and warm water. My only mission is to keep my wife as calm as possible for the next few minutes—a task easier said than done as my heart is erratically beating in fear.

  Kelly releases her grip, allowing the blood to return to my extremities, the pain just the same. She collapses against my chest for a few seconds before lifting herself back up. “Oh God, I need to push again,” she screams loud enough the entire house hears.

  Abigail and Victoria return with the supplies. Lupe instructs Kelly and me on what to do. Without waiting, Kelly begins to push, holding her breath and pushing until I’ve counted to ten. She repeats the routine several times, each time bellowing another scream of pain. Soon, I begin to worry something is wrong. My fear is dismissed when the sound of our baby’s cry fills the room. I’ve never heard a more beautiful sound in my life.

  With a beaming smile, Lupe announces, “It’s a girl,” before gently placing our daughter on Kelly’s chest for her to hold. I hold Kelly against my own chest, peering down at the reasons I continue to breathe: my wife and now my daughter. There is nothing more precious to me than the two of them.

  VICTORIA

  The ambulance eventually made it to the cabin hours after Kelly delivered little Alexandria. They still transported the new family to the hospital to ensure Mommy and baby were going to be fine. After an overnight stay in the hospital, Kelly was ready to head home with their new addition. David was happy to oblige, ready to privately enjoy his little family.

  We had all said our goodbyes to them at the hospital, promising to visit them in a month. After they had driven away, the rest of us returned to the rusty cabin for the last two remaining days of the week.

  The weather was gorgeous outdoors, so Matt and Abigail had decided to take Emily on a stroll after breakfast. With my belly full of Matt’s delicious pancakes and Trey’s perfectly cooked bacon, I’d sent Trey to lay our son down for his morning nap. I am nearly finished washing dishes when a sudden burst of water begins erupting from the faucet of the sink.

  As I battle to keep the gush of water from spraying me, Trey’s voice breaks through my shrieks when he booms, “What the hell is going on?”

  I feel him pushing me to one side before he tries turning the handles to stop the water flow to no avail. Reaching for a dishtowel, I attempt to cover the spray as Trey drops down near my legs, his lower body disappearing below the sink. Within seconds, the shower of water slows then stops.

  Mouth gaping, I wipe my face with my palm. The entire front of my body is completely drenched as I remain rooted in place, shivering from the aftermath of the ordeal.

  Standing in front of me, Trey’s brows furrow when he questions, “What did you do?”

  “I was just washing dishes.”

  His palm rakes down his face as he releases an exhale. “Shit. Another thing to add to the list,” he frustratingly mutters, averting his attention around the room as if he’s taking inventory.

  Muddled over his comment, I ask, “What list?”

  His head snaps back to gaze at me. The grimace he gives concerns me, along with his strive to appear cheerful.

  “The list of repairs we’ll have to make,” he cringes.

  My expression is far from boastful when I glare at him, ready to scream.

  Holding out his arms, ready to ward off my attack, he persists, “Princess, before you get all prissy on me, just consider how great this place will be once we remodel it.”

  “Are you crazy?” I screech, ready to strangle the man.

  Feeling lightheaded, my body is slightly turning to anchor myself against the counter. Through clenched teeth, I furiously say, “Tell me you haven’t placed an offer.”

  There is a moment of silence, causing me to tilt my head and glance at Trey. He flinches as he conveys, “I called the realtor the day after we arrived. It’s already in escrow.”

  “Then call them back and tell them you changed your mind.”

  “Come on. It’ll be amazing when it’s fixed up,” he pleads.

  “How do you expect to find the time to even remodel this place when you’re always gone?”

  Appearing hopeful, he suggests, “How hard can it be? Most of the time it’s just picking shit out and dealing with contractors. You’ll love it.”

  Realization hits me that he expects me to be the one handling the remodel.

  “You expect me to deal with contractors while pregnant and raising our son alone as you travel around the world with your clients? You’re out of your mind,” I declare, tossing the towel down in the sink, already trying to make my exit from the room.

  Trey’s hand snakes out and grabs for my arm. “What did you say?” he stammers out.

  Speaking slowly and clearly, I say, “You’re. Out. Of. Your. Damn. Mind.”

  “No, before that.”

  Recalling the short conversation, my hand comes up to my mouth as I gasp.

  Trey’s brows pinch with confusion. “We barely even have sex anymore. How can you be pregnant?”

  I don’t know what has me more infuriated. The fact that he’s acknowledged how pathetic our sex life has become or his doubts over my pregnancy.

  “When you are home, you’re usually making up for the time you’ve been gone, so I’m pretty sure it’s possible.” He grins as he takes pride in my declaration, but just as quickly blanches when he glances down to my stomach.

  Gradually stepping forward, he engulfs me in his arms before his mouth slams down onto mine. My body becomes weak and I’m soon surrendering to the bliss of his kiss. When he ends the kiss, his forehead comes to rest against mine.

  “You’re pregnant,” he whispers, this time with an elated tone.

  “I’ve been wanting to tell you, but—” I refrain from repeating his faults.

  Recalling all the time he’s been absent from home, my heart aches.

/>   Trey pulls me from my anguished trance when noting, “This would explain why you’ve been so moody lately.”

  “It’s the hormones,” I admit. “And the dread of what’s to come with another baby. You’re hardly home anymore, and when you’re gone, I feel lonely, and resent you for making me feel as if I’m raising our son alone.”

  Understanding hits him. He deeply exhales, his palm gently squeezing my chin as he confesses, “I’m so sorry, Princess. I know I’ve been gone a lot, but I swear things are going to change from here on out.”

  Closing my lids, tears begin to well. I desperately want to believe him, but my heart cannot.

  “You and Madden …” He pauses, catching the correction he needs to make. Bringing his hand down to flatten against my stomach, he continues, “And this baby, are my life, and it’s time I put you all first.”

  Doubting he’ll keep his word, my eyes drop down to the floor. Using his index finger to lift my chin, he urges me to gaze at him. “I mean it. You and the kids are more important than any client. It’s why I purchased this cabin. I wanted a place for us to escape from the city every weekend. Somewhere we can spend more time as a family. It kills me knowing how much I’m missing as time passes on.”

  Sniffling away the tears constricting my throat, I croak, “I want to believe you, Trey, but it’s hard.”

  “I’m going to prove it to you, Princess. You’ll see,” he promises.

  Smiling, I nod to accept his declaration. We become lost in another kiss before the recollection of what has occurred this past week comes crashing back.

  “If you even consider replacing that waterbed, the deal is off.”

  Trey groans as if disappointed, making me playfully swat his chest before he catches my wrist to kiss the inside of my palm. “You win. No waterbed.”

  Resting my head against his chest, my vision is lost to the outdated room we’re standing in. “First thing I’m upgrading is this kitchen. No more leaky faucets.”

  “Of course.”

  Correcting myself, I say, “Actually, we’re replacing the doors first. I can’t risk peeing my pants when we get here.”

  Trey laughs at my comment, until one more thought comes to mind and I yank my head back to narrow my lids at him. “And if you even suggest we have our child in this house, Trey Johnson, I’ll file the divorce papers myself. You know I can.”

  He grows pale for a moment before declaring, “That’s one thing I won’t argue with you about. Our kid will be born in a hospital. You weren’t even the one having the baby last night and I was ready to lose my mind.”

  Considering his reaction during the birth of our son, I can only imagine how frantic he must have been, drawing my laughter to fill the room.

  TREY

  After buckling my son in, I climb into the driver’s seat next to Victoria as we both peer out of the windshield. Looking up at the cabin, my heart aches a little leaving it. I never expected our week to turn out this way considering how it began, but we made some amazing memories.

  Victoria reaches over to clasp her hand with mine, breaking my gaze to peer over at her. “Is it strange I’m actually looking forward to coming back to start remodeling it?” Her confession has my mouth widening high on both ends.

  “You can do whatever you want to it, as long as one of the rooms turns into a man cave for me and the guys.”

  Victoria’s jaw drops. “Trey, we barely had room this week with all of us here,” she proclaims.

  “I was already planning on adding to the existing floor plan,” I nonchalantly suggest with a shrug of my shoulder. Glancing down at her still flat stomach, I ponder, “With the way we’re all going to be popping out kids, we’re going to need all the extra room.” I pause before I say, “Thank you for finally budging on the whole nanny idea,” referring to Victoria’s change of heart. Lupe agreed to help her with the kids.

  “She isn’t going to be a nanny. She’s simply taking on another set of adopted grandkids that she’ll be visiting more often, along with Abigail’s,” she implies.

  “I’m not arguing with my wife.”

  She leans over the center console to give me a kiss. “How did I ever get so lucky with someone like you?”

  “I had to rescue you. Both times,” I remind her.

  She laughs. “True. Sorry I was such a burden on you,” she apologizes, pulling back into her own seat.

  Reaching over to wrap my hand behind her neck, I tug her back to me and fervently kiss her. Breathlessly, I rasp out, “You were a temptation I couldn’t resist. I would have found a way to rescue you every time, Princess.”

  MATT

  Peering over my shoulder, I ask, “Everyone ready?”

  “Ready, Daddy!” Emily cheerfully shouts.

  Abigail chuckles as I put the vehicle into drive. Taking one last glance at the rusty cabin before it begins to fade away in my rearview mirror, I’m already looking forward to the next time we visit.

  As if reading my mind, Abigail asks, “So when do we get to come back?”

  “Trey was talking about a housewarming party after the remodel is done. He wants to add on to the cabin so they’ll be enough room.”

  “It was an interesting week, but I will never complain against making my own memories,” she smiles with a twinkle in her eye.

  Lifting our already entwined hands to kiss the back of it, I say, “I’ll never regret those that brought you to me, but I always look forward to giving you many new ones, Beautiful.”

  Gabbie is a Southern California native, who lives with her wonderful husband, two amazing kids and a senior citizen kitty. When she’s not writing, you can find her reading or sneaking off for a run. Some might say it’s a crazy life, but she wouldn’t change anything about it.

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  I See You by Ginger Scott

  Cole Brennan can throw drunk men packing pistols from a country bar and wrangle a thousand head of cattle in some of Arizona’s roughest terrain, but when it comes to admitting his feelings to the feisty brunette he fell for more than five years ago, his mouth becomes numb and his tongue quickly ties. Claire Anderson is tired of waiting around for Mr. Right. As co-owner of one of Arizona’s hottest country bars, which happened to launch the career of more than a dozen country superstars, and a full-time behavioral therapist, she’s told herself her work is enough for years. Turns out it isn’t, and she’s been lying. But what if Mr. Right has been right next to her all along? And what if, as time runs out, she settles for Mr. Wrong instead?

  Cole

  Everyone else is dressed up. I know Mason told me to just show up however I could, that it didn’t matter to him or Avery. They just wanted me here to celebrate with them. But now I’m the only guy here who isn’t at least wearing a button-down shirt. I have button-downs. I have plenty of them. By the time I got home, showered, changed and got back to Dusty’s, though, this little party thing would be over.

  Claire would be gone.

  The whole reason for wearing a shirt with damned buttons would be irrelevant.

  The knock on my car window startles me.

  “Dude, party’s inside.”

  Mason’s wearing a button-down. Goddamn him.

  He steps back as I push open my door, doing my best to pat the dust from my jeans and kick away the clumps of mud dried on my boots. There’s no hiding my filthy hands, but I’ll wash up in the kitchen before we eat dinner.

  “Hey,” Mason growls as we hug, slapping each other on our backs. “Thank you so
much for making it. I know how hard it was, but you being here … it means a lot to Avery.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I smile, grabbing the giant pink box from the back seat and following Mason into Dusty’s.

  When Avery told us all she was pregnant eight months ago, it’s like a life breathed into this country bar we all call home—one that had been missing since her dad, Ray, passed away a couple years ago. The pregnancy made her nervous. More than her worry over having a second child with autism, she said she was worried how Max would feel about sharing time with a brother or a sister. I knew that wouldn’t be a problem though. I think Max is more excited about adding to their family than anyone. So far, he’s picked out his sister’s room color, decorations, and her name—Ophelia, for one of Uranus’s moons.

  Mason and I walk in through an arch made of balloons, the entire bar draped in twinkle lights. Claire put this together. I helped her a little before I had to leave to head out to the ranch. She must have stayed up all night finishing. The love she has for her best friend is just one of the many things that makes her so damned beautiful.

  Then there’s her eyes, the way you can tell when she’s looking at you, even from a hundred yards away. They’re shaped like diamonds, and there’s a raw honesty in every expression they make. I’ve memorized every narrowing, every haze and flash, every sweep of her lashes and glance from the side. Claire Anderson could never lie to me. I’d see right through it because of those eyes.

  She’s also got this hair that looks like silk. Feels like it, too. And she’s not fragile. I’ve watched that woman haul in cases of beer in a tank top. I never thought a set of arms could be the sexiest thing on a woman, but damn if she doesn’t prove otherwise. Her body curves in ways that call out to mine, and I know that we would fit so damned right.

  But Claire has her work, these kids she promised her life to. She’s a behavioral therapist. She only hangs out here at Dusty’s because Mason and Avery made her part owner. Her therapy work started as something she loved to do with Max, but it blossomed into this passion. She was born to do it. Watching kids respond to her, watching her help parents get their children to say words—to say “I love you”—it’s a gift every single time.