Waiting for Tuesday: Suspicious Hearts Book Two
Page 25
I was on display for everyone to see, but I didn’t care. Women who loved me surrounded me, and even though I was only four weeks from my due date, I felt beautiful.
Becky took her intricate brushes and set them on the table. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and tried to keep from giggling. The last few months had been amazing. Filled with love, support, and life. I spent much of my time working on the shop and planning for the baby, but every night was spent with John, where he’d patiently listen as I told him about all of it.
After about twenty minutes of what I was sure was slow torture for pregnant women, there was a lull in the room, and I lifted my head. “Are you done?”
“No,” Becky said, pushing my head back down to my pillow. “And keep your eyes shut or you’ll ruin the surprise.”
I grinned, but I did what she told me and waited until I felt the brush stop. “Are you done now? Can I look?”
There was a long pause, and I felt a tingle up my spine. “Yes,” she whispered.
Slowly, I opened my eyes, seeing Becky seated at my feet, but there at my side was John. He was on one knee, and he held up a ring in a plain wooden box.
I covered my mouth, and looked around the room. “What are you doing?”
He only shook his head and smiled at me, but his face contorted with an emotion that came so rarely from him. One he usually reserved for when we were alone. I looked around the room, finding Jake, Katie, John’s father, Em—everyone. Then I looked down to my belly.
Becky’s design spread from my panty line to the top of my rib cage. A huge sun twisted and turned with flowers and leaves. It was like a flower blooming from my insides, full of life and filled with love. But arched over the top was John’s writing—lettered upside down but unmistakable. “Will you marry me?”
I looked back to John again, my throat so full of tears I couldn’t speak.
He took my hand and looked me in the eyes. “I’ve been through a lot in my life. Some things I want to forget, and others I wouldn’t give up for the world. I have scars. Scars it’s taken me twenty-three years to heal, but for some reason, knowing you for only a few months changed all that. Before you, I didn’t know what I was living for. I was living day by day, not knowing what my purpose was… I spent most of my life pushing through each week just to get to the next.”
He kissed my knuckles and closed his eyes. His voice grew a little huskier. “But I think all that time, all those hours, all those days, I was waiting for you to walk into that bar. I was waiting for Tuesday.”
I looked into his eyes, my shoulders shaking with emotion. “I love you.”
He grinned and pressed his forehead to mine. “Will you marry me, Tuesday?”
Sobs and laughter poured from my mouth, and I nodded my head. “Yes.”
He pushed the ring onto my finger then lifted me off the couch and turned around. “She said yes!” he shouted to everyone in the room.
Everyone was crying, laughing, and cheering all around us, and John pressed his lips to mine, kissing me in the way that always made my knees weak, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that we had an audience, or that little Shelly started laughing in the corner. All I cared about was that I’d finally found my ever after. In the man I never once thought could be my prince charming.
Chapter THIRTY-EIGHT
John
Four weeks later
I yanked the passenger door open, my jaw tight, and my breathing out of control. Tuesday sat in the front seat of my truck, her face twisting with the pain from another contraction, and all I could do was wait. God, I hated this. Hated seeing her in pain and having nothing I could do about it. I put my hands on both sides of her hips and added pressure like we learned in class, but goddamn it, it wasn’t enough. “I know baby, you’re almost there. Just a little longer.”
She nodded her head, her body relaxing as the tension eased from her belly. She met my eyes again, and she was as determined and fiery as the night we met. “I’m ready.” She grabbed hold of my arm, and we walked slowly up the path to the birthing center.
Austin was there in the waiting room when we entered, rocking back on and forth on his heels before pushing himself from the wall.
“How far apart are they?” he asked, his face hard and tense like I’d never seen before. It was obvious he was nervous. He cared for this woman, loved his baby, and I couldn’t help but respect that, but adjusting to Austin hadn’t been easy for me. “About four minutes. We’re getting close.”
Tuesday gripped my arm before transferring her weight to the back of the couch. “You need to call Becky. I need Becky,” she panted.
I nodded to the midwife in the corner, taking in the urgency of Tuesday’s words, and put the bag on the counter. I began tearing out clothes, diapers, and baby things looking for the phone. The midwife took hold of Tuesday’s arm and grabbed the suitcase from my hand. “I’ll go get things ready. Just relax, there’s still plenty of time.”
I nodded, my throat still constricting with fear, hope, and adrenaline. I found the phone at the very bottom of her diaper bag, punched the buttons to locate Becky’s name, and waited for her to answer. My sisters had done this a half dozen times, but for some reason, I was scared out of my mind of losing Tuesday.
“Hello,” Becky answered on the third ring.
“Becky, it’s John.” I took a deep breath. “It’s time”
I could hear her breathing, but she was quiet a moment. “You take care of her, John.”
I nodded and gripped my forehead before answering. “I will.” I hung up the phone, packed everything back into her bag, and turned to Austin. “Are you ready?”
He looked to the closed door where Tuesday and her midwife had gone only moments earlier and shook his head. “She doesn’t need me. She needs you.” He looked back at me, his face just as scared as mine, and something transferred between us. There was a mutual understanding of what we were getting into. I never imagined myself in a situation like this, becoming a father for the first time and sharing it with another man. I cupped his shoulder and nodded, thankful for this gift he was giving to me and my wife. “You’re a good man, Austin.”
He laughed slightly and tilted his head toward the door. “Go. She needs you.”
I turned to face the birthing room, my throat so tight I could only nod. I picked up her bag from the counter and opened the door, ready to be with my wife. Ready to start our family.
Tuesday
The room was finally quiet, the lights low, as I leaned back on John’s chest. Every muscle in my body was sore, but I didn’t care. Our beautiful girl was nestled in my arms, healthy, strong, and fully alert in spite of her only being earthside for less than an hour.
John wrapped his arms around my waist and nestled in, his bare chest to my back, his cheek next to mine as we looked down at our daughter. “I’m going to love her for as long as I live.”
His voice was husky and raw in a way I had never heard before, a voice meant only for his daughter.
I nodded and choked back tears. “I know you will.”
Her little finger wrapped around his pinky, squeezing tightly, showing us how strong she was, and how she wasn’t going to let him go. He kissed my head, pulling in a ragged breath as one of his tears ran down the bridge of his nose and onto my skin. “I’m going to love you longer.”
His mouth pressed into my temple again as I focused my attention on our daughter. To her sweet lips, her delicate nose, and her tiny body. It fit so perfectly with ours, like the completion to our perfect puzzle.
John held onto me as I nursed her for the first time, and I began to cry. For all my life, I’d wanted to be a mother. I knew it would be amazing, that my life would forever change, and that I would fall in love. But nothing—no words—could have prepared me for the emotion that hit me all at once. Tears ran down my cheeks, shaking my shoulders with the intensity of them, but John only held me tighter, silently telling me he knew exactly what I was feeling.
I didn’t cry because I was sad; I cried because it was beautiful. I cried because in that moment, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, I realized that family wasn’t made of blood. It was made of harder things, deeper things. It was made of trust, devotion, hope, and unconditional love. I had them all. Had them for a long time but didn’t realize it. My mom and Becky, who I would squeeze so hard the next I saw them, and now the man I loved more deeply than I ever thought possible—and our newborn daughter, the one who was not his by genetics, but who already had him wrapped around her little finger. To some, she would forever be tainted, but to him, she was perfect.
As I lay there exhausted, womb empty, and heart exploding with more love than I knew what to do with, I realized I had everything I ever wanted.
I had a family.
It was not perfect, but it was perfectly mine, and I was going to love it for always.
The End
About the Author
Taylor is a contemporary romance author who loves writing stories about real people. Ones with hopes, dreams, fears, insecurities, and flaws. She loves to read as much as she loves to write, and is trilled to share her stories with you. When Taylor isn’t writing, she can often be found with her nose in a book, her face behind a camera, or spending time with her husband and three young children.
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