by Tracey Ward
It’s a boy, he answers right away. He looks like Trey, poor bastard.
Just as long as he doesn’t look like you.
The Hotness could do a lot worse than me, brother.
Has Lilly held him yet? Has she contracted baby fever?
Colt takes a minute to answer, but when he does it’s a picture. Lilly is in a hospital room filled with balloons and flowers. There’s a small mass of blue blankets in her arms. She’s smiling from ear to ear.
You’re screwed, I tell him.
No shit. Get here and take this kid from her before she steals it.
On my way.
Quit driving and texting, asshole!
I’m not, douchebag! I had a few drinks after the show. Sutton is driving.
Oh shit. We’re meeting the shrew?
I glance at Sutton. She’s not paying any attention to me, but I’m worried. All the guys have heard me say about her is that she’s a ball buster. I’m pretty sure that’s about to bite me in the ass.
Try to be nice to her, I plead uselessly with Colt.
We’re nice to everyone. Fucker.
“Great,” I mutter to myself.
If she hears me, Sutton doesn’t ask me what I’m mumbling about.
When we get to the hospital, she parks us in the garage in a deserted corner near the elevator. I check to make sure we’re alone before I lean over, take her surprised, beautiful face in my hands, and kiss her deeply. She smiles against my mouth. I can practically taste it; sweet and bitter as dark chocolate. It makes my stomach growl hungrily for her.
“You have zero self-control,” she scolds lightly when I release her.
I laugh at how wrong she is. “I’ve wanted to do that all night. I have more control than you’re giving me credit for.”
“Are you good now? Can you keep your shit together?”
“Just one more.”
Sutton indulges me. She giggles against my lips as I savor her for a little too long. I take things a little too deep until we’re both breathless and tugging at each other’s clothes, eager for everything underneath.
“Baby,” she mumbles urgently. “Baby. Baby. Baby.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
“No. Baby. Newborn baby. Pregnancy. Hospital. Remember?”
I drop my head in defeat. “That’s a buzzkill.”
“Diapers. Feedings. Nipple chaffing.”
“Okay! Okay,” I laugh. “I stopped, didn’t I?”
She grins. “Butt rash.”
“You’re such a bitch.”
With my boner appropriately deflated, we head to the hospital lobby. I go straight for the directory to search for Maternity. After scouring the endless list of departments, I find it on the third floor. I turn to Sutton to tell her that’s where we’re going, but she’s gone. Spinning in slow circles, I look for her in the lobby. She’s nowhere to be found.
“Over here,” she calls from behind me.
She’s coming out of the gift shop with a big bouquet of spring flowers in one hand and a tiny little teddy bear in the other. She gives them both to me.
“I wouldn’t have remembered to buy any of that,” I confess.
“It’s a sad world when I’m the thoughtful one.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Sutton.”
“Whatever. Where are we going?”
“Third floor.”
It’s not hard to find Sloane’s room. First of all, it’s posh. Of course it is. It’s Sloane. Second, it’s overflowing with people. Colt texted the entire team about the baby, but he only told about a third of us to come down tonight. The rest will filter in over the next few days. They’ll bring so many gifts and flowers and balloons, Sloane will have to start sending them home with Trey. Or give them away. That seems more likely. She’ll have the flowers distributed to every mother on her floor to make sure they feel the love, because even though Sloane enjoys the finer things in life, she’s also a giver. She has a huge heart that’s always been one of the things I love the most about her. Trey is just like her. He came from a poor family who gave away every spare thing they could to help others, and he’s living his newer, wealthier life the same way. They’re good people who deserve the good things coming to them.
“Lowry!” Colt shouts from inside the room.
Bodies shift to make way for me. I shake hands with my teammates as I make my way inside until I’m standing at the end of Sloane’s hospital bed. Inside is exactly what I expected; Sloane’s own personal gift shop. Flowers cover every surface. Balloons bounce off my head from every direction. Sloane sits propped up on a mountain of pillows dressed in a pale blue tank top and matching pajama bottoms instead of the usual hospital gown open over the ass. Trey stands on one side of her. Her best friend Hollis mirrors him on the other side. They look like guards at the attention of a queen.
I smile down at Sloane. “Congratulations, gorgeous.”
“Thanks for coming, Shane.”
I hand the flowers and bear off to Hollis so I can take Trey’s hand and pull him into a hug. “Congrats, man.”
“Thanks, brother.”
“Hi,” I hear Lilly behind me. “I’m Lilly. Colt’s fiancé.”
“Sutton. Nice to meet you.”
“Shit, sorry,” I mutter. I point down at Sutton with both hands, addressing the room. “Everybody, this is Sutton. My dance partner. Sutton, this is Sloane, Trey, Colt, Lilly, Sam—”
“Everybody,” Sloane laughs. “Just say everybody. She can learn their names as they come up to hit on her.”
“Hi,” Sutton greets the room awkwardly. She moves in closer to me, as though she’s intimidated. She might genuinely be. She’s in a room full of strangers that are roughly half a foot taller than her and easily a hundred pounds heavier. It probably feels a little like being lost in the forest.
“We saw you guys dance while we were waiting for the baby to come,” Lilly tells her excitedly. She’s still holding him wrapped up in the blue blanket I saw in the picture. What I didn’t catch in the photo were the wires. Little dude is hooked up to monitors that sit quietly to Lilly’s right and what looks like an IV on her left. “It was so beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“I had no idea Shane could move like that.”
“I couldn’t,” I admit. “Not before Sutton got her hands on me.”
She shakes her head. “He’s a natural. My job has been easy this season.”
“Easier than the Joey Lawrence season?” Lilly teases.
Sutton smiles. “That was rough.”
“What happened with Joey Lawrence?” I ask curiously.
“We fought.”
“A lot,” Lilly adds.
“Oh, it was a regular season then.”
“Eat shit,” Sutton suggests.
I smile, nodding to the bundle in Lilly’s arms. “Is this him?”
“That’s the man,” Sloane answers proudly. “He’s sleeping, I think.”
Lilly nods. “He is. He’s had a big day.”
“And he likes Aunt Lilly a lot. He zonked out the second she picked him up.”
“Can I see him?” Sutton asks hesitantly.
“Yeah, of course,” Sloane laughs. “Do you want to hold him?”
“No, no. I just want to see his little face.”
Sutton moves slowly to Lilly’s side. They both look adoringly into the blanket in her arms while Sloane watches like a hawk from the bed. She’s hyper aware of her baby. It’s like there’s a line still tethering them together. I doubt she’ll let him more than a few feet away from her tonight.
“How is he?” I ask gingerly.
Trey bobs his head back and forth. “He’s doing good. He’s having a little trouble breathing. They had him on oxygen in the first hour but he’s breathing on his own now, so that’s good.”
“He’s a little underdeveloped even though he went full-term,” Sloane admits.
“But he’s got a good heartbeat. They’re hoping he’ll be able to come home n
ext week. We think he’ll be—”
He pauses, staring behind me. I look at Sloane, but she’s doing the same.
In fact, just about everyone in the room is looking behind me. At Sutton.
I turn around to find her with little dude in her arms. Lilly has just handed him to her. She’s standing next to Sutton with her hand on her shoulder and a worried look on her face. The same concerned look the rest of the room is giving her.
Sutton is openly crying.
The tears are silent but they’re large. And there are so many. Her face is streaked with them. They drip down her cheeks onto the blanket surrounding the baby, but she’s careful not to let any of them fall on his face. She’s protecting him as she weeps over him, and I don’t know near enough about women or babies to get what the hell is happening right now.
“Are you okay?” I ask her quietly.
She sniffles, shaking her head to clear the tears from her face. “I’m fine. I just… He’s so perfect, isn’t he?”
Hollis smiles reassuringly, handing Sutton a Kleenex. “Yeah. He is. It’s like a gut punch, isn’t it?”
Sutton laughs shakily. “It really is. I wasn’t ready for it.”
“Me either. You should have seen me when I held him. I cried too.”
“You don’t have to say that just to be nice.”
“He’s not nice,” Sloane corrects dryly. “He’s horrible. And he wept like a bitch. How do you think he knew where the Kleenexes were?”
Hollis glares down at her. “Excuse me for having a heart, you harpy.”
“It’s fine to have a heart, just have a little bit of a spine to go with it. You cry at everything lately. You’re giving gay a bad name.”
“I hope you get allergies from all the flowers.”
“I hope you get adult acne.”
Hollis stares at Sloane like he’s imagining all the ways he’d murder her if there were no witnesses. “You’re a bitch, but I love you so damn much.”
She smiles. “So much you’re going to cry about it?”
Hollis doesn’t reply. He sits down on the edge of her bed and wraps his arm around her. He’s crowding her but she leans into him, hugging him tightly.
“I didn’t peg you as a baby person,” I tell Sutton.
“I’m not. Not normally. But he’s so beautiful.” Her voice cracks. She glances up to frown apologetically at the group. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. But I… I had a shit mom and he’s just so precious and new and…”
“Preaching to the choir, sister,” Sloane promises from the bed. “No apology or explanation needed. Parents mess you up. It’s not your fault.”
“Thanks,” Sutton chuckles nervously. She tries to hand the baby back to Lilly. “You should probably take him. They don’t want some strange nutcase crying all over their baby.”
“Why don’t you hand him back to his dad,” Lilly suggests. “If I hold him much more, I’ll never let him go.”
I give Colt a meaningful look.
He smiles in reply.
The room slowly moves back into action with people talking and laughing, but I move to the edge of it with Sutton. I park my ass on the arm of a chair and smile when she comes to lean against my side. We’re almost the same height like this. I can look straight into her eyes and she can see into mine, and I feel dizzy when she does. She looks so vulnerable it hurts. I feel a pain in my chest that can’t be healthy. I know she’s causing it. I know what’s happening to me and to her, and part of me wishes I could stop it because I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I don’t know if I can be everything she needs because she’s a beautiful, mess of a human being. I don’t think she is what she needs yet, but the train left the station three nights ago and there’s no stopping it now. We’re on a track, Sutton and me, and where it’s going is not up to us. All we can do is hang on tight and hope for the best.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SUTTON
June 3rd
Carmichael Condos
Los Angeles, CA
We’re dancing the Viennese Waltz this week. It’s a slower, more elegant number than the other dances we’ve done so far. Shane will be in a full white tuxedo. I’ll wear a shimmering white gown that looks like it’s been dipped in gold. It’s ombre, starting white at the top and turning darker and darker until it’s solid gold at the very bottom.
“You look like the angel on top of my family’s Christmas tree in that dress,” he tells me now.
His arm is under my head. His hand plays in my hair splayed out over the mattress that’s missing all of my pillows. I don’t know where they went but they probably ended up on the floor along with our clothes and the blankets. It was a long, grueling day of dress rehearsal to get ready for tomorrow’s show and we couldn’t wait to get out of the studio. This is where I wanted to be; here in my bed in my home with the man who makes it feel like it’s not nearly as empty as it actually is.
I smile at him, being careful not to roll my eyes at his sweetness. I do that a lot. He’s never complained but it’s a habit I don’t mind breaking. “I do not look like an angel.”
“Not right now you don’t. Right now you look like—”
“Choose your words very carefully because there is nothing between my knee and your balls but air and the next thing you say.”
His eyes go wide. “Damn. What do you think I was going to say?”
“Whore crossed my mind.”
He frowns at me impatiently. “For real, Sutton. Who hurt you?”
He’s joking because he doesn’t know that his question has an answer.
I make sure to keep my face perfectly blank so he never has to know.
“For real, Shane,” I tell him lightly. “No one can hurt me. I’m invincible.”
“Devil.”
“Excuse me?” I laugh.
He smiles. “That’s what I was going to say. You don’t look like an angel. Right now, you look like a devil.” He puts his palm on my naked thigh. It rises slowly, caressing my ass. My hip. My side that tickles so badly I squirm under his touch, but I lean into it too. I want it more than I want anything else in the world. “You look like a gorgeous,” he kisses me softly, “insatiable,” another kiss, “naughty as hell little demon. And I am into it like you wouldn’t believe, baby.”
I kiss him hungrily as his hand rises to my breast. He cups it as much as he can but his palm is big and my breasts are not. Still, he makes it work. Lord Jesus Mary and Joseph, this man makes my body work.
I swing my leg over his hips to straddle him. We’re animals here, alone. We’re easy. There are no questions asked. There are no assumptions made. There’s no doubt. Not for either of us. Here we are safe and together and no one can screw that up for us. Not even me.
I’m not the woman I thought I was when I’m with Shane. I’m better than I ever thought I could be. I’m happier. Kinder. I feel my age when I’m with him. I’m younger than I’ve ever been before. Freer than I believed a person could be. He lets me be whatever I need to be – whether I’m a bitch, an angel, or a devil – he takes me as I am in every moment, and I want to give him every ounce of goodness I have inside me. I’ll run dry eventually. It’s unsustainable because that’s the way all good things are – fleeting. But for now, my soul is an ocean.
I shudder against him as he pulls my body down hard over his. It hurts but it’s good. So fucking good. I bite down on a scream that rises in my throat as he grunts. He shakes and grips at me with a controlled strength that should terrify me but it makes me feel whole. I feel safe in the steel cage of his arms, held tight to the rock solid span of his chest. He’s warm stone under the heat of a desert sun and I’m a cold blooded creature curled up against him, desperate for his heat.
We fall back against the bed together, tangled in a mess of limbs, hair, and hands. He loves to play with my hair. He tells me it’s like sunlight. I tell him the nickname that Kasian gave me. He laughs, saying he likes it, but he likes his nickname better. Deep down, I do too. We stay
in bed for way too long like that; just talking. Laughing. I’m never this lazy but I could get used to it with Shane. We lose hours that way, but we’ll never miss them. We pass them teasing each other with our words and our bodies. We have sex again, this time in the bathroom where he pins me against the shower wall with my legs around his waist and hot water pouring over the rippling muscles along his back. I can’t stop touching him. He can’t stop tasting me. He says he could eat me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I smile at the insatiable need of this carnivore.
Finally, around midnight, we realize we need actual food. We get dressed for the first time since we left rehearsals and order Chinese takeout from my favorite place down the street. They’re fast, cheap, and have amazing soup. It’s my one indulgence that I allow myself only a few times a year, but tonight I don’t worry about my diet. I order egg rolls and I promise Shane I’ll try a bite of the orange chicken he ordered.
“You’ll love it,” he promises.
“I doubt it,” I laugh. “But I’ll try it.”
“You’re getting brave, Boss.”
“I’ve always been brave. I think you’re getting pushier.”
“Now that I know your bark is worse than your bite, you’re not nearly as scary as you used to be.”
“No,” I lament dramatically. “There goes all my power.”
Shane reaches across the kitchen island to take my hand with a smile. “Nah, you’ve still got it. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
I don’t believe that at all, but I smile anyway because I want to believe it. I want to think I’m strong. I used to. I did when I left New York and my old life behind, but for the last couple of years I’ve started to doubt myself. I think it’s easy to confuse strength with anger. And anger is almost always rooted in fear.
Ten minutes later, right on time, there’s a knock at the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Only it’s the wrong knock.
My hand tightens on the plates I was pulling from the cupboard. I worry for a split second that I’ll drop them. That they’ll shatter on the floor into shards of ceramic that I’ll never be able to put together again.