Lately just the sight of certain foods sends me into what Cammy and the others call ‘the food mood’. I eat all the time, as if my body just can’t get enough, as if it’s desperate for whatever it can get.
Sure, I know that Junior is way too big—I should know, I’ve been wetting myself at least once a day thanks to him playing football with my bladder—but no matter how much I tell myself that I should be eating healthier and much less than I have been, my body just won’t get with the program.
Add to that the fact that he also seems to be pushing on my stomach, causing me to puke a lot of the time, and I’m pretty darn sure I should really stop eating so much.
“Love, have you been listening?”
Uh, that would be a big fat no.
The light changes, and my eyes almost tear when the van turns the corner. Goodbye, donuts.
“I need a donut, Lucian. Like right now.”
“No. We’re going to the doctor, and then I’m taking you home. Harry, what’s taking so bloody long?”
I can’t understand his urgency, and feel myself tense a little despite his hand rubbing lazy circles over my back.
***
“What! Oh my God, are you fu—freaking serious?”
Let’s backtrack here for a second… Please backtrack, so that I can go back to the minute before they told me something I really didn’t want to know.
I’m a strong woman, have been since my mom took her last breath and my douche of a dad left me with a kid and no money, barely scraping by on a good week.
I’m strong. I have two kids, both of whom aren’t even mine, and I manage my home and husband like a well-oiled machine. I’m definitely strong…I think, but as that doctor continues to pass the wand over my belly, digging it in every now and then, and points out everything the other doctor hadn’t seen, I feel my strength vanish beneath a tidal wave of fear.
“Three! Are you kidding? Where the heck would they even fit in there!” I yell, slapping at the doctor’s hand and sending a glare of outrage Lucian’s way. “You couldn’t just be like everyone else and give me one!”
He’s grinning from ear to ear like the bastard he is, his chest puffed out with pride even as his face keeps the sickly green cast I’d seen on him when he walked into the house and kidnapped me.
I can tell he’s as uneasy about all this as he is proud, and that thought settles me enough not to hurl all over the place.
Three. Three little Lucians currently reside inside me, sucking me dry and turning me into a whale, and yet I can’t be as upset as I want to be because honestly, how can I be cheesed when the thought of it makes me so giddy?
“Bed rest, young lady. I’ll set up the nurse for you and tell Jan to give you my emergency numbers. I don’t see anything too concerning right now, but I’d like to keep you as comfortable as possible. The longer they stay in there the better it’ll be. Can’t have them being too underdeveloped.”
Seriously? He’s going to tell me that in a sing song voice that has my hackles rising even as Lucian cups my face and plants a gentle kiss on my brow?
“No more donuts for you, love.”
Aw, shit. And here I thought he’d go easy on me, since he’s hitting the kid jackpot.
Chapter Thirty Five
“Three! Oh my goodness, three! The things we can do with three babies. First we’ll get them all matching outfits, and then we’ll get them mini sneakers!”
I snort as the girls all converge on me where I’m lying on the sofa in the entertainment room, their happy, cheery faces making me feel feral and not altogether sane.
I’ve been lying on this thing for one freaking day and I’m ready to lose my damned mind with boredom. There’s only so much TV I can watch before I feel my brain trying to trickle out of my ears, so I’d turned the thing off and proceeded to stare at the walls as Becky the nurse bustled around me and chattered to her heart’s content.
I don’t have the heart to tell her to shut up, but the chatter is seriously wigging me out. And now these four puloozas are jumping all over my fat ass to, what? See the terrible trio through my skin?
“Oh, calm the heck down. They’re not the next Jackson Five, you crazy coots,” I mutter, stifling a smile when they all drop down one by one and start naming my kids, as if they have any say.
“FYI, I’m not naming any of my kids River, Hope, or freakin’ Jamal, so you idiots can just stop right there.”
“Oh, but River is such a lyrical name,” Cammy pouts, trying to flip up my top to get to the goods.
“Stop that! I feel like a freaking side show the way you clowns are going on. As if Lucian rubbing himself all over me and talking to them like I’m not here isn’t enough.”
Okay, so what if it’s a little endearing?
I’m not allowed to have sex anymore, so having him touch me and rub all up over me is not putting me in the best of moods, either. Add to that the fact that I can’t see over my stomach, and Lucian’s taking the doctor’s advice and feeding me everything but sugar, and, well, I’m pretty raw right now.
“We should have known there was more than one,” Nat mumbles, digging through her bag for a candy bar.
When she unwraps it and licks her lips, I lose what’s left of myself and shriek.
“Eat that thing in front of me and I’ll rip your throat out!”
The silence is deafening as I watch her flinch and slowly push the uneaten bar back into her designer purse, her eyes holding mine, her movements slow, like I’m pointing a gun at her.
“’Kay, Ash, just take a deep breath and calm the heck down. There, see? It’s gone, sweetheart,” Viv mururs reassuringly, sending Nat the stink eye. “He told you he’d be pissed if we upset her. Just don’t talk or make any sudden movements till she calms down.”
She hisses this out the side of her mouth like I’m a wild animal or a snake coiled to strike.
“I’m pregnant, not deaf! Now give me the candy bar.”
I see four faces freeze, and almost chuckle when they look between each other, their eyes darting to the door as if some miracle is coming in to save them or something.
“Uh, you’re obviously not in the mood for company, darling. Maybe we should just…” Cammy murmurs.
“Hold it right there, you traitors!” I yell when they make a break for the door. “Come back here and—”
“Tut tut, love, shaking them down for candy? You’re worse than the children.”
Crapsickles.
I press my lips together and watch as he strides in, greeting the girls with a smirk before bending down to kiss my mutinous lips.
“You heard what the doctor said. We don’t want you overloading on sugars and salt. Now be a good girl and eat the lunch I’ve brought you,” he says, placing a tray on the coffee table and hoisting me up gently.
“Blech, what the heck is it?”
Looks like vegetables and something that smells like death and feels like leather.
“Tofu and a crisp vegetable salad.”
“Oh, gross. Really? You can’t just let me have something that doesn’t look and taste like old sneakers?”
“No, because according to your results, you’re so full of sugar it’s a wonder you’re still capable of this piss and vinegar attitude, love. Honestly, they’re afraid of you developing gestational diabetes, among other things, so for the moment it’s healthy eating for you, unless you want to get sick.”
So reasonable, and yet I’m not even a little mollified by his matter of fact nonsense. I’d like to see him grow three little barbarians at once on a diet of carrot food and tasteless shoe leather.
“You can have a brownie after, if you’re a good girl and eat all your veggies, love,” he wheedles, and I grimace before nodding.
The cowardly foursome made their escape while I was being distracted, so the only face I have to glare at now is one I love too much to be angry with for long.
Handsome SOB.
The hallowed brownie turns out to be the sugar-free variety that
looks like a brown cow pat instead of a brick of joy, and I snarl, choking down the first bite before tossing it at his head.
My husband, the ass, laughs so hard I have to wait for him to calm down, and then he kisses me to shut me up, giving me one of his rare, toe-curlingly sweet kisses.
“Just try to behave and keep them in there a little longer, love. We want our boys healthy, don’t we?”
“Yeah, I guess. Just do me a favor and don’t expect another kid anytime soon. I’m freakin’ exhausted, and knowing you, the next go round will be quads.”
***
I wake two weeks later with a steel spike trying to dig its way out of my body and scream to holy hell when I realize something’s up with the terrible trio.
“Lucian. Lucian! Wake up.”
When he jumps out of bed, ready to swing at God alone knows what, I can’t stifle a puff of mirth and end up laughing till my belly contracts and leaves me panting in a moan that I’m sure sounds like the lowing of a cow.
“Oh, Jesus, what… Love! Oh, shit. Fuck!”
The fact that he’s cursing calms me, and I take a deep breath, gritting my teeth against the pain streaking through my back, belly, and hips. I don’t say it, because I really don’t need him to lose his ever-loving mind yet, but the pain is nothing like the books describe labor to be.
I feel more like I’m being ripped open from the inside out, and the pain is constant, not contractions.
“Babe, wake Becky and get her to stay with the kids, and then I think you really need to get me to the hospital. Phone Doc Stephens and tell him I’m gonna need him there now.”
It’s accomplished in under five minutes, and then I’m being lowered into the car, and we’re speeding down the streets as I feel the first gush of sticky wetness pool between my thighs.
“I smell blood! Are you bleeding?” he yells, putting his foot flat and looking over at me at the same time.
“Let’s just say…I’m…pretty sure…your leather seats…are ruined,” I pant, grabbing hold of the dash when he takes a sharp right turn and floors it through the curve.
“Jesus Christ, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
By the time we get to the doors of the hospital I’m panicking and struggling not to cry. My crotch is covered in blood, along with his hands—he’d held my crotch the whole time, as if he could stem the flow—and I’m woozy.
“She’s bleeding! Fucking do something!” he yells, grabbing me from the seat to run through the doors.
“Put her here.”
I feel the solid gurney beneath my back and hear the doctor’s voice fading in and out as the enormity of the situation hits me. I’m bleeding, a lot, from the smell and feel of things, and I’m losing focus.
The only constant is the feel of his big, strong hands wrapped around one of mine, and the blue of his eyes as he runs beside the nurses to keep up, his breath sawing over my lips.
And then it hits me. I haven’t told him yet. I could die and I haven’t told him.
“Lucian.”
“Don’t talk, love. Just stay with me. You’ll be fine. You will be.”
I smile and feel tears cloud my eyes.
“I love you.”
“No! Don’t you fucking say it now. Say it when you’re holding our babies and counting their toes,” he snarls, glaring down at me.
My eyes are blurry and unfocused, but I see the tears nevertheless and find the strength to lift a hand to his stubble-covered jaw.
“I love you.”
I hear him yelling, feel him shaking me when I lose the fight with consciousness and slip into the void, praying that I’ll be okay, that I’ll see my terribles and give each of them the names I’ve picked out.
Chapter Thirty Six
Luc
As one hour bleeds into another and I pace the hall outside the OR, I feel everything within me freeze. I’m almost numb now and welcome the void with a desperation I’ve not felt in the months since claiming my family.
I can’t cry, can’t rage, can’t do anything but pace and worry as they work on my love, fighting not only to save her but my children as well. I can’t say I feel any less pain at the thought of losing even one of them, but I know if she doesn’t come through this, nothing will save me from the brink, from tumbling down the precipice of pure madness I now stand on.
“Luc. Hey, man, have you heard anything?”
I hear the question a second before a ball of sobbing fire launches herself into my arms and clings, crying so loudly it’s all I have in me to embrace her back instead of flinging her away.
I don’t need this shit now. Not when all I can think about is the way love had said my name and smiled at me while she told me she loves me.
Should have bloody said it back, you stupid arse.
But I couldn’t. It had been almost impossible to speak through the fear choking me, and I absolutely refuse to tell my girl I love her for the first time because of my fear that she won’t be coming out of this in one piece.
I want to do it in a moment where I can look into her blissfully happy eyes and say it with enough feeling that she’ll believe me and never doubt my love.
“Not yet, but they’ve been in there a while, so we should hear something soon. Shh, it’s okay, Cammy bear. She’s going to be just fine,” I murmur soothingly, willing myself to believe it before I lose my shit and start tearing this place apart.
Another ten minutes pass before a nurse comes out, her expression tired but happy as she stops and puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Your sons and daughter were born an hour ago and are being transferred to NICU as we speak. I’ll take you in in just a moment to meet them.”
The words make me smile a bit before I realize she hasn’t said—
“And Mrs Jasper is just fine. The doc got in there and stopped the bleeding. We’re just waiting for her BP to stabilize before transferring her from post op. Congratulations, sir.”
My knees give out and dump me on my arse before she’s even done, and I’m laughing and squeezing Cammy so hard she lets out a squeak before hugging me back and high fiving the universe.
“Oh God, Luc, did you hear that? They’re all fine!” she trills, standing to throw herself at Brody. “I’m an aunt, bro, did you hear? They’re all just fine!” she squeals, laughing and crying at the same time, obviously as overwhelmed by the good news as I am.
“Congrats, dude,” I hear through the fog as Brody claps me on the back and hauls me to my feet, his arms wrapping around me to hold me up.
I feel as if I’ve run a bloody marathon through hell and come out the other side, exhausted but victorious.
“Go on, man. Go see the little tykes,” Brody urges, shoving me toward the still beaming nurse. “And take pictures, dude. I want to see my namesakes!”
I feel like I’m walking in a dream the whole way to the small, isolated NICU, where the triplets are. After getting on the full robes, mask, cap, and gloves, she leads me into a section where three incubators stand, each one holding the tiniest being I’ve ever seen.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I see them, their heads turned to face each other, though they can’t see with their little eyes closed and all the tubes and wires coming out of them.
Anyone else would say they look like tiny little aliens, but I think they’re the most beautiful babies I’ve ever seen.
The little girl moves slightly and stretches out a hand toward me, almost as if she senses me there and wants her dad, and I feel my heart kick so fiercely with love it hurts.
She looks like a little gem, my very own tiny thing, no bigger than my hand.
“Hello, my little jewel. Daddy’s here.”
I spend the next few minutes alternately looking at all three and getting them acquainted with my voice, telling them that I will protect them at all costs and that they’d better move on and get better so Mummy and I can take them to meet their brother and sister.
By the time I’m done, the nurses are starry-eyed,
and there’s not a dry eye in the house.
“I’d like to see my wife now.”
***
Ash
Everything hurts. That’s the first thing I notice when I come out of it and feel my body roar back to screaming life. And then I realize that dead people don’t feel pain, and that makes my eyes pop open and my hands go for my belly.
It’s still slightly swollen and tender to the touch, but the heavy feeling is gone and I know that—
“Where are my babies!”
“Settle down, love.”
I look up to see Lucian standing above me, his face wreathed in a smile so wide I let out a shaky breath and smile, ignoring the pain and lingering drowsiness.
“They’re okay? All of them?”
Those blue eyes are radiant as he leans down and rests his forehead on mine and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths before opening them again and spearing me with a glare.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again. You said goodbye. Promise me.”
I feel a lump form in my throat at the hoarseness in his voice and nod silently, trying to hold back tears. Of course that’s the first thing he’d do when I wake up from almost dying in childbirth. That’s Luc for ya, chastising and laying down the law.
“Say it, Ashley.”
“I promise. I won’t ever say it again.”
That brings a smile to his face, because, though he knows what I mean, the statement is somewhat ambiguous and sounds a lot like something else.
“I mean, I’ll still say I love you, but I won’t give up again,” I say, smiling into the soft kiss he plants on my dry lips. “I want my babies.”
***
“How can they… Oh, God, they’re too small,” I whisper tearfully twenty minutes later when he wheels me into the room and stops between the three incubators, his hold steady as I stand painfully and peer into the little glass enclosures where my babies lie wrapped in tubes and wires.
“It’s okay, love. They’re small but healthy. We just need to give them time to get there, and then we can take them home with us,” he soothes, kissing my neck reassuringly.
How the hell those little mites are even alive is a miracle, and I say a silent prayer of thanks and beg for their health as the nurse opens the tiny side hatches and smiles kindly.
JARED (Lane Brothers Book 4) Page 68