“Of course not. I just figured twenty minutes wouldn’t make a difference. You could simply surrender to my charm and let me get you hot.”
She keeps tugging on me until we reach the long stairwell to exit the lighthouse. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Turn off the lights. I’ll meet you in the truck, babe.” Before she disappears down the stairs she spins around to address me one last time. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock the doors. I’d rather us not get in trouble and never be welcome back. Come summertime, I’m going to take you up on the offer for another night here alone with you.”
I take her hand and kiss it, smiling when I pull away. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I enter the observation room and check the exterior doors to make sure the latches are fastened. While doing so I peer out into the distance. It’s dark, but the falling snow makes it brighter. Visibility is limited, but for some reason I’ve never been able to see clearer. My future is a glowing path. We’ve created a life, and knowing that makes me feel like I have everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s surreal.
Chapter 2
Weston
It’s Christmas morning, but I have no urge to climb out of bed and head over to my father’s house. What started as a possible White Christmas has turned into an icy disaster. We should have known the beauty of the snow wouldn’t last since we’re so close to the coastline. Living near the ocean has its pitfalls. We’re usually cursed with torrential downpours during the winter months. The constant muddy conditions make getting around a mess, not to mention the temperature of the falling rain. Mix that with a morning frost that causes all of the water to freeze and you have an idea of the everyday struggles of the offseason.
Brice stirs in the bed, the blanket and sheet slipping away from her backside. Her arms are nestled under her, probably to keep warm, while she hugs one particular pillow against her face. We had a long night, so I’m going to let her sleep a little longer this morning.
Once we arrived back to the house we share, the one where her home office is located, we sat by the fireplace and feasted on a pizza until we were stuffed. We’d already eaten dinner, so this was a late night pig out of comfort food.
At first I kept a count of how many times I caught Brice staring down at her new engagement ring, but after forty it became monotonous. She kept thanking me, admitting she had no idea it was going to happen. Like I mentioned before, Brice is terrible with surprises, so I feel accomplished that I managed to hold one over on her.
Admitting it was one of the best nights of my life isn’t difficult. I just wish she’d let me share the news about the baby with our families. With her medical knowledge, Brice thinks it’s best to wait until after the holidays, but I know a part of it is that she feels everyone will think the engagement is because of the pregnancy.
She’s right. If she’d told me first and I wasn’t prepared, I would have gone out and bought a ring because it was the right decision to make. Although, it’s not the situation. I’ve been planning this engagement for months. It’s surprising how my brothers were able to keep the secret, not to mention my sister, who is somehow always running her mouth about something.
Breakfast in bed.
It sounds like a special treat on a cold holiday morning. I start with the coffee, until I remember the pregnancy. When I work at my father’s restaurant, a local favorite that’s named after my late mother, the pregnant women always request decaf. Then I realize it’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen her with a cup in her hand. It’s funny how I neglected to notice little changes in her daily activities. Now that I recount the last couple of weeks I can’t recall her waking up and going for a run either. The signs were there. I just never noticed them.
I’ll have to work on that.
Starting with the bacon, because I know the aroma will soon fill the home waking my sleeping beauty, I separate the contents of the package in a large pan. While waiting for it to cook to a crisp, I check my phone for messages. Several well-wishers have left texts. I write them back, before going to social media. My phone buzzes again as I’m flipping the bacon on the opposite side to finish. It’s from Brice.
Come back to bed.- B
Not until breakfast is done. Stay where you are. DO NOT GET DRESSED! – W
For someone who didn’t want to lay around all day, I’m eager to climb back onto my mattress with my beautiful fiancée.
Perfecting an over easy egg without a slimy center takes a certain kind of skill. I’m rushing, so the first three yokes break as soon as I crack them. The forth sits perfectly surrounded by a pan of butter to prevent sticking. One light flip and I’m able to start on another, successfully accomplishing the same result.
I cut some oranges and place them on a plate before adding toast, the bacon and finally eggs. Mine consists of the broken yoked eggs, fried to a crisp due to neglect. They’ll taste fine when I douse them in hot sauce. An air-filled laugh comes out when I think about it.
Once I load the food on a tray, I fill up a large glass of orange juice and carry it into the bedroom.
Brice has rendered me speechless.
She’s on her side, completely naked sans three bows. One covers her crotch, while the other two keep her nipples at bay. Like a teenage boy, my mouth falls to the floor, I’m salivating as if some canine instinct has taken over my body.
“Merry Christmas, baby cakes,” she offers while patting the space beside her. She’s removed the large goose down comforter that she unknowingly steals in the middle of the night. “Do you like your present or are you planning on standing there with a tray of food all day long?”
“Both seem equally rewarding,” I tease.
“Now that you know I’m eating for two, maybe you could offer me whatever smells so delicious?”
I snap out of it and sit on the edge of the bed beside her. Her disheveled brunette hair gets pushed back behind her shoulders as she prepares to eat. I’m always getting on her about stray hairs being found all over the place. I get reamed on the boat when my brothers pull long strands from my clothes. Brice thinks it frustrates me, but to be honest I’m used to having a sister with long hair. It’s just another reason I can pick on her for something she’ll never be able to fully control.
Her creamy skin taunts caress. My fingers coarse over her hip, goose bumps covering the vicinity. My eyes are fixated on the two red bows covering her perfect rack.
Through the window, an incandescent glow broadcasts a brightness around us. Her skin radiates like she’s an angel; a beautiful, precious gift from the lord above. I’m not trying to seem sappy, but that’s exactly how I see this woman. She consumes my every waking thought. She’s my savior in more ways than fixing what I kept buried from the people closest to me. The way I look at life is completely different now. She can do better, but for some reason I’m the man she wants to spend the rest of her life with. Now I’m going to be a father. She’s not showing yet, but soon the evidence will be obvious. Everyone will know we’re starting a family. They’ll know this is permanent. Her parents will finally get off my back. They’ll be reassured by my long-term commitment to their daughter and our future.
“Why are you staring at me with that weird look on your face? Don’t you like the surprise?”
“Just admiring my package.”
She motions toward the plates of food. “What smells so good?”
“It’s just what the good doctor ordered. Bacon. Lots of bacon.”
She squints and curls her lip. “For some reason I feel a little sick to my stomach.” Seconds later she stands and makes a beeline for the connected master bathroom. I hear her hurling even before I’m able to wrap my head around what the hell just happened.
Following the sounds of puking, I come up behind Brice who happens to be hugging the rim of the toilet, no longer looking that sexy in such little attire.
I kind of feel bad for leaving the seat up again, and I know when she’s fin
ished getting sick I’m not going to hear the end of it. Like I mentioned before, I don’t deserve her.
I hold onto her hair and watch her gagging with nothing coming out. She’s whining and it takes a few seconds to figure out what she’s saying. “Why is it so strong?”
“What, babe? The taste of your puke?” I’m not trying to be funny when I ask. I’m unsure what she could be referring to.
“The smell. God it’s awful. It’s the strongest bacon I’ve ever smelled in my life.” *gag* *heave* “ You’ve got to get it out of the house.” *gag* “Open the windows or something.”
“It’s freezing outside.”
“I’d rather freeze to death than smell that bacon for another second.” She spits one more time before resting her head on the rim of the toilet. She looks weak, and my heart breaks when I think of it being Christmas. It’s bad enough that I spent half the night sitting up worrying about how to be a good father. I wondered if I’d somehow screw up.
Christmas hasn’t always been a happy time for me. I was in my late teens when my mother passed away. For the first three years I got plastered on the twentieth of December and stayed trashed until the New Year. It was the only way. I couldn’t sit by a decorated tree and expect her smiling face to be there handing us presents. I couldn’t eat breakfast and not imagine the huge smorgasbord she’d fix for our family, or the feast of ham and turkey for dinner. None of us could. We hid behind the bottle, because it was better than suffering the unimaginable pain of her absence.
It took most of us years to be able to have any sort of celebration again, and even then it wasn’t anything I’d consider special. The excitement and motivation never existed. My mother’s favorite holiday was like suffering her passing over and over again.
Brice forced me to express my deepest pain. She showed me that I could not only live, but also enjoy the feeling of companionship, and then finally open my heart to the possibility of loving again.
Brice went from hating me, to feeling sorry for me, then to befriending me, followed by the deepest love I’ve ever experienced. But it’s not just about the void she filled. Her love is more. It’s constant and selfless. She’ll never give up on me, and knowing that only tells me I can’t give up on her, even if she’s got her head deep in the toilet because the smell of the special breakfast I made her is crippling. Even if I want a piece of that delicious crispy pork between my teeth, I have to restrain. It’s about compromise. Falling for her was the easy part. Getting her to return the feelings back, or at least admit she had them was a different story. Now she depends on me and I’m going to prove I’m up for the challenge.
I make a beeline for the tray, grabbing all the food and carrying it back into the kitchen. Collecting all the bacon, the pan I used, and even the discarded grease in an empty can to cool, I run outdoors and sit them down where they can fumigate. I’m halfway back in the house, because it’s still sleeting and I’m barefoot, when I see one of my brothers pulling in the driveway. It’s Brant with his wife Jamie. They got married a couple months ago once her divorce from her ex was finalized. I know for a fact that they’ve been trying to start a family, so I’m not going to gloat with my good news until Brice thinks it’s a good idea.
It’s clear I’m not dressed for the weather. Standing in a pair of loose boxers, and an inside out T-shirt, I cross my arms and wait for scrutiny. It comes as soon as his feet hit the pavement. “What in the hell? Get her something she didn’t like and get kicked out?”
I shake my head. “No. We haven’t done presents yet.”
“Then why in the hell are you outside?”
They follow me indoors before I’m able to reply. My teeth continue to chatter as I pour myself another hot cup of coffee and pray it takes away the sting in my feet somehow. “I cooked bad bacon. Must have expired,” I imply.
“Smells fine to me.”
Just hearing the house still reeks of greasy pork causes alarm. My poor woman is face down in the toilet and I’m not helping the situation. “I’ll be right back. Let me get some clothes on and wake Brice.”
“Tell her to hurry up. Dad wants us there before eleven.” Brant is his normal morning peachy self.
“Shut up, Brant. They can take their time,” Jamie offers. “It’s Christmas.”
I leave the two lovebirds to locate my patient. She’s hunched over the sink vanity washing her face off. She’s pale, and I can tell she’s not in the mood for company. “Who’s here?”
“Brant and Jamie.”
Her hands cover her face as I pull her into my arms. “Want me to tell them you’re sick?”
“It’ll go away.”
“It’s fine. If you feel better we’ll make our way out later.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Of course, babe. We still have presents to open here. I’m fine if it’s just us. I’m sure we have something we can throw in the oven to eat later if you’re up to it.”
“Right now food is the last thing on my mind. I’m so queasy, and everything smells funny to me. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t how you pictured waking up for Christmas.”
“You won’t hear me complaining. As long as I’m with you it doesn’t matter.”
She offers a smile once her hands lower, but I can tell she’s doing her best to brave this sickness.
“Come on. Let’s get you back in bed.”
I tuck her under the covers and give her kiss on the forehead. “Let me take care of you for once.”
“I’ll have to call my parents.”
I smirk. The idea of skipping their house makes me want to celebrate. I’m always walking on eggshells when it comes to them. “Just take the morning and see how it goes. Hopefully it’s a quick recovery.”
“Thanks, West. You’re the best.” She says this to be funny. It’s this thing she does when she’s trying to get a rise out of me. “West is the best,” she repeats.
I shake my head and walk out the door, reminiscing on how the saying got started, and why it really shouldn’t be something we joke about.
Back in high school I had a reputation for the wrong reason. Apparently the girls labeled me as being the best at certain things. Brice was always the one person who thought it was ridiculous. She says I was a piece of meat, thrown around and used without knowing it. Back then the idea of being with me disgusted her. Now, she uses the old saying as some kind of joke to herself. It never helps when I rub it in that she could have known I was the best a long time ago when she refused to give me the time of day. It will probably never get old, at least I hope not, because I sure do enjoy giving her shit, and a reason to keep on me. She’s a never ending challenge, especially with her occupation being reading and helping people. Good for her I really...really enjoy playing doctor patient.
My brother and Jamie are awaiting my return. It’s unfortunate I have bad news. “You should head on over to Dad’s without us. Brice isn’t feeling well. She just puked.”
“Is she pregnant,” Jamie questions, though I’m not surprised. The two are close, and her being a veterinarian only makes her question every medical scenario.
She’s blindsided me with the question. As I stand dumbfounded, Jamie’s eyes light up. She whisks into the direction of the bedroom with me chasing after her, and Brant not far behind.
Brice is sitting up against a pillow lined headboard. She pulls the covers up higher when she realizes our company has decided to check on her. Jamie wastes no time sitting on the edge of the bed. “Merry Christmas, girlfriend. How you doing?”
Brice turns her concerned glance toward me, as if I spilled the beans to the first people I came in contact with. My eyes widen as I try to telepathically inform her she’s wrong, but obviously fail. “Big mouth promised not to say anything.”
Immediately Jamie saves me from scrutiny. She giggles. “He didn’t say anything. You’re puking in the morning. It’s the first sign.”
“It’s never happened before. I smelled the bacon, and it was horrible.�
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Brant laughs, while I cross my arms and hope they won’t turn around and tell the whole world. “We were going to keep it a secret for a bit,” I tell them. “On account of her parents and the engagement.”
Jamie grabs Brice’s hand and checks out the ring. “Holy crap. You’re engaged?”
“He asked me last night, at the lighthouse with the snow falling down around us. It was beautiful and perfect.” She looks to me as she explains. “I said yes, a million times over.”
“Of course you did,” Brant mumbles. “We know you’ve got it bad for this schmuck.” He pats my shoulders as he says it. “Congratulations guys. It’s awesome news. It’s about time though. You’ve been beating around the bush for too long.”
“Yeah,” I say with a scratch to my head. “She played hard to get for a long time.”
Brice grins. “That’s because you were a prick.”
“Okay, kick me in the balls already.”
They all laugh at the stab to my ego.
Brice pats the side of the bed where Jamie doesn’t sit. “Don’t worry, babe. I know you’re all mine.”
I don’t answer. I’m not going to act like a pussy in front of my brother, who I know will give me shit until the day I die. I simply nod and pretend it doesn’t get to me. My past is something I can never change. My actions, the mistakes I made, the women I used, and it’s all a part of who I am now. Brice has showed me that. She’s helped me understand that I didn’t need to binge on anything to feel better about life. She taught me to like myself enough to care. It still hurts that she might look at me as flawed. I’ll never be perfect, but she’s showed me none of us are.
“Room to talk, bro. Do I need to remind you about that time in Baltimore with those sisters?”
Brant clenches his jaw the way he does when he’s been defeated. Jamie snickers. “Hmm, I never heard about this story.”
“It’s not for today,” he quickly responds. “How far along are you, Brice?”
Waves of Despair: Oyster Cove Series Page 2