by Sasha Gold
I just took her hand and led her back to bed. I told her I was sorry too, and work it all out. Everything. I lay awake for a long time holding her while she drifted off to sleep. Holding Bailey was sweet, tender, and better than anything I know.
I open my eyes to bright sunshine and the sound of her showering. It’s Saturday. I gave my crews the day off. I’m taking Bailey to do a few things in town. I want her in a bigger car. And we need to shop too. As in grocery shop. Normally I just move through the grocery store and get what I need. I know where everything is, and I’m efficient. Today will be different, though. We’ll shop together, and we’ll debate about what she should be eating, and I hope we’ll start connecting again.
Every morning I wake up with a painfully hard erection and somehow the sound of the shower makes it worse. She can’t have sex. I understand. I want to ask her if that’s a pregnancy thing or a first trimester thing, but I don’t ask. I don’t want her to think that’s all I think about, and it’s not, but I do think about it a lot.
The water stops and I roll out of bed, wander to the kitchen and make coffee. I pour her a cup and head to the bathroom. She cracks the door and smiles at the coffee and up at me. The smile feels like clouds parting. I don’t want to fight anymore. I want to sleep beside her, hold her so she doesn’t get bad dreams. I want to dance in the den or take her out if she likes. I want to make her smile just like she is now.
She reaches through the doorway to take her coffee but I step back. “Let me bring it to you.”
Her smile falters but she opens the door. She’s wearing underwear that’s the color of a summer sky. Matching. I think she’s trying to torture me.
I set the coffee down. “I’m going to get my shower.”
“Fine.” She watches me in the mirror, her smile a little different now. I’m hoping she doesn’t want to fight anymore either.
Her lacy underwear clings to her body and her breasts are so full, they spill out over the top a little. I guess I’m staring a little because she flushes.
“I think they grew a little,” she mutters.
“I’d say they grew a lot.”
“Just take your shower.”
“What happened? Did you get a visit from the titty fairy or something?”
She snickers and blushes. God, I love that.
“Nick, please stop. You’re embarrassing me. I don’t know what happened. I think the bra shrank.”
I snort and laugh. “The bra huh? Just that one?”
“No.” She picks up a brush and starts brushing her hair. “All of them.”
“You’re bigger, baby.” I step behind her, skim my hands up her waist and cup her breasts. “Pretty sure.”
She sets her brush aside and turns to face me, a sweet, open expression on her face. I can’t resist flicking her bra open and cupping her bare breasts. I lower my voice. “You’re breasts are, in fact, bigger, Mrs. McKinley. You’re fucking gorgeous. Have I told you that?”
Her smile is shy and tentative. I’m sure I could find a hundred ways to tease her about this. How beautiful she is to me. How I can hardly stand to look at her sometimes because it tears at me. Makes me want to hide her away so I’m the only man who can look at her. Fucked? Yes, but there it is.
“Nick,” she says softly. “I don’t want our baby to think we got married because we had to.”
“Did you think I was going to put that on a plaque or something?”
She smiles. “No, but…”
“We got married because I’m crazy about you. And you are for me. We don’t have to tell him the details like you were in mismatched PJ’s. He doesn’t need to know that he was there for the ceremony.”
She smiles. It’s a tentative smile.
“You think it’s a he?”
“I don’t know, baby.”
What I want to tell her is that I’ll love a boy or a girl just the same, but anytime the conversation gets close to the subject of the pregnancy, she frets. The anxiety is always right there. So I don’t say another word.
After I shower and dress, I find her in the kitchen attempting to make breakfast, which, frankly, scares me a little. She’s wearing a Steeler’s jersey she found in my closet, another Harrison jersey, and she’s wearing it with jeans and boots. I think I’m going to sweet talk her into wearing jerseys on a regular basis. Harrison has got to weigh three hundred pounds and it’s sweet and sexy to see my delicate Bailey wearing something that’s inspired by some massive, beastly lineman.
There’s a tentative peace between us. Everything’s a debate but at least we’re talking. We argue over breakfast, and we argue about the shopping list and then we really argue about the new truck I’m buying her. I want her in something bigger than the matchbox car she has now and she’s griping that it’s almost paid off. We’re still going back and forth as we head into town. We don’t do anything other than grocery shop and run a few errands. But it’s great. It’s perfect.
Because Bailey’s by my side.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bailey
Crazy. That’s the refrain on the Patsy Cline song that comes from the workshop. Nick’s in there again working on something that involves a lot of hammering. The song is anguished. Heart-breaking.
I sip tea and look out the kitchen window, listening to the music.
It’s Sunday and we’re going to eat lunch at his grandmother’s house. Olivia and a few other relatives will be there. I hadn’t planned on seeing Olivia until next week when I have a doctor’s appointment. I’m nervous about seeing her in this context. And I’m nervous about meeting his grandmother too, but what bothers me is that he hasn’t told them about me. Here we are, married ten days and he hasn’t gone through the fuss and bother of telling his family.
I know Olivia won’t hold it against me that I’m a Voss, but what about his grandmother?
Sydney’s coming too so that should make it interesting. She finished her assignment in Leandro and will be back in Fulton for a few weeks. That’s good. I need some girl time.
Why? Because I’m crazy, just like the song. Crazy for feeling this way. Crazy for loving Nick McKinley.
We argue constantly and yesterday he swatted me on the ass. Twice. Once in the grocery store in the produce aisle. Then he teased me for getting two containers of ice cream. Oh, he was in rare form. When I got a bottle of whipped cream, that really awesome kind that shoots out of the nozzle, he mocked me. I tried to explain that I’m eating for two and he asked if the other person was a defensive lineman.
I’m crazy about him, but I have no idea if he feels anything for me. Anything other than obligation. He seems to need time on his own, like this morning. He’s been in his man cave since dawn and I wander the house feeling like I’m a nuisance.
An hour or so later, while we’re driving to Gran’s house, we’re arguing again. This time he’s irritated that I want to be introduced as Bailey Voss-McKinley.
“VossMcKinley?” he taunts as we pull into her driveway. “That’s a mouthful.”
We get out of the truck and walk to the house, passing cars and trucks.
“That’s because you’re smushing it together. It’s Voss dash McKinley.”
We climb the steps. I can hear the people inside, talking, laughing. Nick holds the door open, narrowing his eyes as I pass. “It’s fucking dash annoying. That’s what it is.”
“Maybe I like it that way.”
“Maybe you better choose one or the other. Not both.”
The teasing slips into territory that’s feels more intimidating. Like he really wants me to make a choice, but I don’t have time to ask what he means, because he’s set his hand on my lower back and we’re entering the kitchen. People fill the room. Older folks, children and everything in between. Some sit at the table. A few lean against the counter. An older lady, presumably Gran, stands near the stove, a wooden spoon in hand.
Olivia, standing by the fridge, sees me and drops the jar of pickles she was taking from the door.
The room goes quiet.
“Bailey Voss,” Olivia whispers.
Everyone stares at me, some in disbelief and some in anger.
An older man, sitting at the table coughs. “Did ‘Livia just call that girl a Voss?”
“She did,” a middle-aged woman says. “She’s the nurse from the hospital.”
Collective murmuring fills the room. The one that went to Leandro…heard she was in trouble…never imagined…she’s so young…babies having babies…to think she’s a Voss.
Olivia’s eyes widen and she looks at Nick. Lifting her hand, she points at him. “You?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Me.” He looks around the room, his eyes resting on his grandmother. “I’d like everyone to meet Bailey Voss dash McKinley.”
His tone holds a note of wry amusement. No one moves for a moment until Gran steps around the pickles and brine to give me a hug. She’s little but gives hugs like she means it.
She grips my shoulders and gazes up at me with shining eyes and a smile. “So glad to meet you. Let me introduce you to the rest of the family.”
She leads me to the table, her arm entwined in mine. “Bailey Voss Dash McKinley,” she muses. “I’ve heard of the Voss family of course but not the Dash family. Is that your mama’s kin? Where are they from?”
I shoot a look at Nick. He shrugs. “You were the one who wanted to make it complicated.”
By the time she’s introduced me to the family, I’m beginning to feel like the McKinley clan might just accept me after all. Two of his aunts have offered to throw me a baby shower. Everyone wants to know if I’d like to have a boy or a girl. No one can believe Nick popped the question. Truth be told, he didn’t pop the question, but now’s not the time to talk about that.
Just before lunch is served Sydney shows up. I’m thrilled to see her, but not thrilled to see she’s wearing scrubs.
“Tell me you’re coming from work, not going,” I plead.
Sydney winces. “I got called in. I’m so sorry. I promise to take you for lunch now that I’m back.” She hands me a gift bag. “I brought you something naughty for when you can get back in the ring. Pregnant ladies want to have sex all the time I’ve heard.”
I grab the bag and shove it in a corner. “Thanks. I’ll open it later.”
She tilts her head Nick’s direction. “Is he still grumpy?”
“Pretty much. It helps if he rides his motorbike or hammers a few nails.”
“When you see the doctor, ask if you can have sex. Make sure okay? I’ve heard pregnant women want it twenty-four-seven.”
“Would you shut-up already,” I hiss.
Sydney glances past me. “There all in the kitchen. Quit being such a prude. I put a little how-to manual in the bag, since you’re pretty much a newbie. You be careful, okay. Don’t make the jump from white to black all at once.” She winks, kisses me on the cheek and hurries out the front door.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nick
I run my hand across the top of the rough wood and wonder what Bailey will say when I show her what I made.
I’ve heard that pearls start inside an oyster because of a tiny piece of grit. Basically, something bad. I have to think that’s like us. We started off with something that was hard and sharp and we’re going to make it into something beautiful and perfect. Or that’s what I’m hoping for. Tomorrow we’ll find out about the pregnancy, and I’m desperate to know everything’s okay.
Everyone at work is giving me unrelenting grief about the quickie wedding and the baby on the way. The ladies in the office tease me about having twins. I don’t even try to get them to stop. I sort of like the way they’re excited about the whole thing.
I head inside to look for Bailey, hoping to find her in the bedroom. I imagine her lying in bed wearing a shirt she stole from me. Actually I imagine her like that a lot. I gave her a magazine I wanted her to look through, award-winning house plans or something like that. Told her to look at it this evening, pick one out and in the Spring I’d build it for her. But she’s not in bed, she’s showering.
A storm rumbles through the countryside and flashes of lightning light the night sky. I go to the window and watch the wind whip through the trees. There’s a cold front on the other side of that storm. It’s cold now but it will be miserable in the morning. Cold and rainy. That’s what the forecast says.
There’s a present on the bed. A gift bag with tissue sticking out. I run my finger over the edge of the paper and get a whiff of perfume. When did she go shopping? It makes me feel bad because I didn’t get her anything.
The shower turns off and I debate looking at what’s in the bag now or waiting till later. I should wait but I can’t keep from looking. There’s something lacy and a book.
When she steps out of the bathroom, she’s wearing a towel and a guilty expression.
I tilt my head toward the bag. “Tell me you’re not wearing a nightie to bed till your doctor gives you the go ahead.”
She bites her lip to suppress a grin. “You looked! I can’t believe she bought me that book. I can barely read the title without feeling mortified.”
“I didn’t see the title.” Hell, now I’m more than curious. What sort of book does she have in there? I thought I’d be in charge of her learning about sex. Like she’d be my sweet little apprentice or something. I reach for the bag, but she moves faster and snatches it away.
“Then you don’t need to see the title. The book’s for me, anyway. Not you. No boys allowed.” She snickers and disappears into the closet. I cross the room and when I stop in the doorway, she shrieks and stuffs the bag onto a shelf behind her.
Thunder crashes outside and the lights flicker. Bailey yelps and then giggles at her own fright.
It takes me three steps to reach her. With one hand I grab the bag and in the other arm I grab Bailey, hauling my catch back to the bed. She’s flailing and trying to get free. I set her down on the bed, but she pops back up and lunges for the bag while trying to keep her towel on.
“What am I not allowed to see?” I tug a nightie out and admire it briefly. “You’re not allowed to wear that till the doctor gives you the green light.” I pull out the book.
“How to…” I don’t read the rest of the title. Instead, I give Bailey a stern look. “Bailey Voss Dash McKinley, I’m shocked to find you reading something like this.”
A blast of thunder shakes the house and the lights go out. It’s pitch black. I keep some candles on a bookshelf for this reason and after I fumble in the dark for a moment I light two tapers and the room is filled with a soft glow.
“Sydney gave you that book didn’t she?”
My tone is severe but I can see she’s not buying my show of shock and disapproval.
Her smile is completely unapologetic. “It’s very interesting. I’m sure you’ll approve. One day.”
I toss the book aside. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?”
“Your doctor’s appointment. I’m going to ask him if we can fool around.”
Her amusement fades from her expression and she tucks her towel in a little tighter. The flickering light casts shadows across her face and her eyes shine.
“Is that why you’re coming with me? To ask that?”
“No, I’m going because it’s important.” I move closer to her and wrap my arms around her. “It’s your first appointment.”
Her body is tight, rigid and the tension spreads across her shoulders and down her back. Pressing my fingers into her muscles, I try to ease the knots.
She rests her head against my chest. “It might be my last appointment.”
“Hush, Bailey.” I stroke her damp hair, kiss the top of her head.
“I didn’t plan on getting pregnant, Nick.”
“Shh,” I soothe. “I never thought you planned on this.”
“They told me I couldn’t.”
She presses against me, molding her body to mine. I love how our bodies
fit together. Perfectly. “They were wrong. I’m happy they were wrong.”
“What if there’s no baby?”
Her voice is the softest whisper and I wonder how long she’s wanted to ask me that question.
“We’re still married, Bailey.”
She tightens her hold on me and I can feel her heartbeat pounding against her sternum. “But we wouldn’t need to be. You could have your house back and do the things you like to do. Have things your own way.”
“So could you.” I lift her chin and for a moment I don’t speak. I just look into her eyes and hold her there in my gaze. “Is that what you want?”
She replies without any hesitation. “No. I’d like to try again if this doesn’t work out. I’d like to have a family. One day.”
Warmth fills my chest. I dip my head and kiss her softly. The rain begins as a soft patter on the roof, growing louder. Water streams past the windows and a gust of wind buffets the house. Lightning flashes and a crack of thunder follows. The lights flicker and go out. I feel her reach for me and I want to take her to bed, to hold her while the storm rages, but not yet.
I light a candle and take her hand and lead her through the darkened house. Down the hallway, past the kitchen and into my workshop. She’s wearing just a towel and she’s barefoot. This isn’t what I had in mind. I imagined giving this gift to her in more civilized circumstances. Not with her barely dressed in the middle of a power outage.
I lead her past the shelves of tools to my work bench.
“I don’t want to step on something sharp or pointy,” she whispers.
“It’s fine. I sweep up when I’m done. Nothing sharp or pointy.”
Lifting the candle, I shine the circle of light on the surface of my bench and watch her expression. She squints, tilts her head and then draws a deep shuddering breath. Then she drops my hand and steps past me.