by Brynne Asher
Taking his face in my hands, I lift and put my lips to his. “I love you.”
He freezes and, for an instant, I regret my words.
Until his lips crush mine, his bulky weight pressing me into the sofa, his hips pressing between my legs—showing me the effect I have on him.
He yanks up my shirt and his hand splays over my heart in the middle of my chest. “Love you, too, baby. So much.”
I thought so, but to hear him say it makes everything perfect. And it’s a good thing, too.
“Hey, Honest Abe?” I call for him as his hands start to roam on me.
His nickname doesn’t faze him as his head dips and his lips come to my collarbone where he hums, “Hmm?”
Bringing my hands to his short hair, I state, “I’m glad you love me.”
He stops and lifts to look down at me with a frowny-smile. “I’m glad you love me, too.”
My eyes go big. “I bet I’m more glad.”
He grins, shaking his head. “Love you, baby, but you’re strange sometimes.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not strange. I’m pregnant.”
He freezes.
“I’m not sure why you’re surprised,” I add. “I’ve tried to be responsible and you’ve done everything in your power to distract me.”
His face thaws and his voice dips. “You’re having my baby.”
“No,” I contend. “I’m having our baby. You didn’t do this all by yourself, you know. I was there, too.”
A smile bleeds onto his beautiful face and he asks in a way it’s more of a statement, “Dealing with your sass—this is going to be the rest of my life, isn’t it?”
“It’s my mother’s fault,” I offer before letting my eyes go big. “But she’s nothing like your mother.”
He ignores all conversation about our mothers. “You happy? Because you’ve made me really fucking happy.”
I lean up to kiss him. “I should be upset about being pregnant before I can legally get into a bar—but I’m just not. The joy is too much. I just need to figure out how to tell my parents.”
“You can tell them after you tell them we’re married.”
My eyes go big. “I didn’t know how you felt about marriage since your mother doesn’t believe in it.”
“I can’t fucking wait to marry you. In fact, it can’t happen soon enough. And lucky for you, I’m nothing like my mother. I want to tie us together in every way possible. A baby is just the beginning and the sooner you’re wearing my ring the better.”
“Big day, huh?” I whisper.
“Best day,” he corrects me and he’s right.
Life with Link. The best is only beginning.
Epilogue
when reality outshines a dream
life is complete
Link
One month later…
A Carpino Christmas
Omaha
I pull a blanket off the back of the sectional we’re sprawled on to cover my sleeping wife. With her head in my lap and the Carpino family pets—both labs, one yellow and the other black—surrounding us, I decide we’re getting a dog. A big one. Even though I’ve given Gage a raise and he’s closing on his own five nights a week so I can be with Avery in the evenings, I still work until close on the weekends. It doesn’t matter how good my security system is—I want her and my unborn child to have a dog at home.
Just another shield around my family.
Brushing my thumb across the dried tears on her cheek, I’ve never felt more protective than I have since we stepped over the threshold of Avery’s childhood home.
I get it. I even expected it.
But as anger grows inside me, I’m fucking over it.
Nic and Tia Carpino pretty much lost their shit when Avery called them three weeks ago, informing her beloved parents that this would be her last semester at Vandy so she could pursue a career in music. It didn’t matter that she’d signed with an agent and had her first song optioned by a band who just landed one hell of a deal with a record label. They were even too shocked to let it soak in that her song was in the works to be released as a single.
I was sitting right next to her when she made that phone call and heard their dismay first-hand. Then she followed this little bit of news up with the fact she’d fallen in love. She explained how, without a doubt in the stars, I was it for her, which resulted in us getting married in a small chapel nestled in the Smoky Mountains with only Nico, Sophie, and the pastor present.
Well, let’s just say her dropping out of Vandy didn’t seem like such a big deal in comparison.
It didn’t matter how happy she professed we were, Nic and Tia were the exact opposite.
If they weren’t pissed about their youngest becoming a college dropout and missing out on her getting married, throwing the news about the baby into the mix officially did them in.
Do I blame them?
No.
Am I ready for them to get over it?
Fuck yes.
My wife is sweet, caring, and devoted. Whatever she touches is blessed with her heart and soul—through and through. She’d bend over backwards for those she cares about and she loves her family. It’s why I love her, why I knew it was right, and why when she told me she was pregnant with my child, I could not have been happier.
She’s ten weeks into the pregnancy and it’s taking a toll. She’s exhausted, sleeps all the time, and her morning sickness comes at night. Even with all that, she insisted on us coming to Omaha for Christmas. She said her family needed to meet me, see us together, and come to their own conclusion this is a good thing.
We’ve been here a day and a half and Christmas Eve is tomorrow. I’ve met a shitload of people who call themselves members of the Carpino Club and I’ve decided it’ll take me five years to remember their names even though they’ve all been cool. Except Nic and Tia, which upsets Avery. And if I’ve learned anything about myself since I met my wife, whatever upsets her pisses me the fuck off.
After our second stressful dinner in her parents’ home tonight, she suggested we hide away and watch a movie. It doesn’t matter how cool their media room is, once we got settled, she lost it. She doesn’t understand why her parents don’t see what we know, why they can’t be happy for us, and especially our baby—why they can’t even try.
She cried in my arms as I promised her they’d come around, and, for her sake, hoped to God it wasn’t a lie. I told her I’d do everything I could to make it okay and tried to reason with her that they’re just not used to it all yet and that in time, they’d see what we know deep in our souls.
As I whispered all these things, trying to calm her, she fell asleep in my arms before her tears even dried. I settled her on the sofa with her head in my lap, one dog curled at her feet with the other on the floor in front of her, both on guard while offering her comfort in their own canine fashion.
The room is shadowed, lit only by the projected image of The Sandlot on the huge screen in front of us which I have mostly ignored. My head jerks to the side when Nic appears in the double doorway. I never heard him approach.
I don’t say a word, but I do place my hand on the curve of her stomach that’s starting to swell with my child.
Nic doesn’t miss it and crosses his arms, leaning on the door jamb. His eyes focus on his youngest daughter for many long moments and when he speaks, his voice comes out low and hushed.
“I’ve been standing outside this door for quite a while.”
I raise a brow and state, “You eavesdropped.”
“It is my home,” he counters.
I nod. “That it is.”
His chest rises and falls with a deep breath before he continues. “I hope you can appreciate the scenario you and Avery put us in. I’ve worked hard to give my children a college education. It was important to us. Parents like to see their children get married. Women, like my wife, obsess over that shit for months. Though I should be thankful for the thousands you saved me in flowers and all. But I
can’t lie, I could use an open bar right about now.”
“Then it’s a good thing I own a bar. You’re welcome to it anytime and you’ll never carry a tab,” I say seriously.
Without any emotion in his features he responds, “I’ll look forward to that. Soon.”
I nod, hoping that means we’re getting somewhere.
“My daughter is loving,” he goes on in a heavy tone.
“I know.”
“She’ll be a good mother,” he adds.
“The best.”
“And wife,” he keeps on.
“She already is,” I respond.
He nods as his eyes return to his child before he finishes. “Avery doesn’t love anyone who doesn’t deserve to be loved.”
To this, I have no answer, but it does hang heavy in my chest. A weight I’ll gladly carry the rest of my life.
“I expect you to return it to her ten times over, Link.”
I look down at my wife. “I plan to.”
“In about seven months, you’ll look back on this moment and understand where I’m coming from.”
I brush her hair out of her face and don’t look back to my new father-in-law when I nod.
“I don’t like my daughter unhappy. I’ll take care of Tia. No one will get shit anymore for anything. Clean slate.”
Looking back up to him, I mean it when I say, “For Avery’s sake, I appreciate that.”
A smirk appears on his face. “Let my wife buy you some baby furniture or something and I’m sure she’ll get over missing out on spending a shit-load on flowers and a dress. Just be prepared for that baby to be spoiled.”
And for the first time since our plane landed in Nebraska, my smile is genuine. “I can deal with that.”
He loses his smirk, stands up straight, and leaves me with one last parting gift. “Welcome to the family, Link.”
After what felt like a miserable hazing from hell, I think I’ve just been initiated. I guess I’m a member of the Carpino Club and my wife can breathe easy again.
Thank fuck that’s done.
*****
Avery
Three Years Later
Los Angeles
“You’re all done.” The makeup artist spritzes my face, making me flinch, before tossing the bottle into her bag and grins. “Not that you aren’t glowing naturally, but that will help set your makeup.”
“I’ve never seen anyone with that much makeup on look more natural,” my mother says, with tears in her eyes. “Avery, you look beautiful.”
“Mom, don’t cry. You know I’m a mess of hormones as it is. If you cry, I’ll cry and ruin my makeup.”
My mother is full-on drama every day, but since we got to Los Angeles three days ago, she’s been over the top.
“Link, she’s ready!” my mother calls into the next room as she bounces our son on her hip. He’s been reaching for me for the last thirty minutes, but I’m in my dress and have been in the makeup chair forever. “It’s just that you’re about to pop out my next grandbaby and you’re up for a Grammy. If that happens tonight while I’m here at the hotel, I won’t be happy. I don’t know how to get around Los Angeles and the taxis and ubers take forever.”
Link walks into our spacious bathroom in the enormous suite the record label put us up in. Without taking his eyes off me, they wander my body before popping back up and landing on my breasts. My enormous, eight-month pregnant, breasts.
I’m wearing a dress that hugs every rounded curve of my body. With a halter around my neck, it’s tight from my boobs to below my baby bump and ass before it falls to my feet with a slit up the front so I can walk. It’s blue and the moment I saw it, I knew it was the one. It matches my husband’s eyes and is embellished at the bodice in a way that screams, look at my huge pregnant boobs.
Since they aren’t big normally, I figure while they are, I might as well flaunt them.
Link shakes his head as he narrows his eyes. He gave up on telling me what to wear and not wear a long time ago. He knows I’ll just ignore him.
“Daddy,” Nash babbles, reaching for my man. Link plucks our son out of my mother’s arms and plops a kiss on the top of his head.
“You’re going to be late,” my mother keeps on before turning to Link and bossing him like she does everyone. “Carry her shoes until she gets there. She has no business walking in those spiked heels. Her flip flops are in her bag with extra water and snacks.”
Link, who’s become immune to my mother, says while grinning at Nash, “Don’t worry, Tia. She’s carrying my baby—I’ve got her covered.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Our baby.”
It took a bit for my family to get over me eloping, getting knocked up, and dropping out of college all at the same time.
Well, really it only took one Carpino Chaotic Christmas, but they got over it.
I did feel sorry for my mom and dad that year. Just one of those bombs dropped individually would be enough for any parent to flip out, but I pulled the trifecta—preggo, hitched, and a college dropout.
They didn’t take it well three years ago when I informed them of all this over the phone.
But when I brought my new husband home for Christmas that year, it took a couple days, but they saw.
I don’t know how they couldn’t. Link’s love for me is as blinding as the fire that burned his club all those years ago. One would have to be comatose not to see it.
And once Nash was born, our little family was complete.
Or so we thought, until I got pregnant for the second time. In approximately four weeks, we’ll be complete once again—until we decide we’re not. But like Link said eight months ago, that’s an easy problem to fix and we have fun doing it.
“Look at my tatted man in his edgy tux.” This gets his attention and his blue eyes warm as he shakes his head at me. “I could get pregnant just looking at you.”
Link laughs out loud, but it’s true. My husband cleans up well. He’s in all black and was pleased when the stylist we worked with suggested he forgo any type of tie and wear his shirt open at the neck to show a bit of his ink. This is the Grammy Awards after all—pretty much anything goes and it’s not like the Best Songwriter category is the most popular of the night. I’m still considered a newcomer. I’m not a big player by any stretch of the imagination.
“You two,” my mother tries to hide her smile and snatches her grandson back. “Let’s go, everyone wants to see you and I want to take pictures.”
“Seriously, Mom. This isn’t prom.”
Link takes my hand and helps me down from the chair before bending to pick up my shoes. I grab the powder and lipstick the makeup artist left for me and toss them in my clutch.
When I walk through our bedroom and into the living area, all I hear are gasps, little screams, and excited cheers.
“Look at you!” Gabby exclaims.
“Girlie, you are working that dress,” Leigh says with a big smile on her face. “I think I need to get pregnant again just to wear something like that.”
Gabby is my cousin and Leigh is her best friend, married to my other cousin, Tony. Once the Grammy nominations were announced and I was on the list, these two best friends booked all my aunts and uncles to take care of their kids and planned a trip to Cali. I couldn’t land anyone tickets, but they’re going to hang out here with my parents and Nash, have a watch party, and even though I told them not to, they’re planning an after celebration—Carpino style.
So far, I’ve had songs picked up by artists with my label, but those albums are still in the works. It was my first song—the same one that brought Link and I together—that went big. The little no name band who gave me a shot in the beginning also signed with the same label and hit it huge with my piece of music. We both started out as nobodies that night at The Knot, and have climbed the charts together. Thanks to their style paired with my words and lyrics, the song crossed genres and not only did it hit big in Country, but also the Top 40.
I’m prett
y sure that’s why we were both nominated—me for Songwriter and them for New Artist.
“I’d say good luck to you, Avery, but I think Link needs all the luck getting through the night without you going into labor,” my cousin, Tony, says as he tips his beer bottle to Link.
“We’re on the first flight out in the morning,” Link says. “The only reason our doctor let her go was because she wasn’t at all dilated and we’d have a nurse with us.” He nods to Leigh. “And because it’s the Grammys. I still won’t breathe easy ‘til I get her back to Nashville.”
“Maybe you’ll go into labor during the show,” Jude grins playfully as he puts his arm around Gabby. “It’ll make the watch party that much more interesting.”
“Shut your mouth, Jude Ortiz,” my mother admonishes.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” My dad says, walking over to kiss me on the cheek. “Good luck, but come straight back here. You don’t need to be on your feet.”
I return his kiss but roll my eyes. “You all act like I’m an invalid. I chase after Nash every day. I can walk.”
“Let’s go collect your Grammy so we can get back,” Link says.
Everyone wishes me luck. Link and I both get slobbery kisses from Nash, but then have to rush out the door while my mother and father distract him with toys so he doesn’t cry.
When we get into the elevator, Link gets in my space and pulls me to him as best he can with my big belly between us. “You nervous?”
I shake my head immediately and rest a hand on top of our baby. “No. I’m living a dream. I get you, our children, big wonderful families who love us, and on top of that, I get to write music, which is all I’ve ever wanted to do. I don’t need a trophy to appreciate my life more than I do. I’m already a winner, Link.”
His bright blue eyes soften and he leans down to kiss me in a way I’ll have to fix my lipstick in the limo.
“Love you, baby,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Love you, too.”
Then the elevator dings and I’m off for the Grammys as fast as a pregnant sloth.