Because It's You (Carolina Rebels Book 2)

by Lindsay Paige

  “You, my dear Stella, are a genius!” I admonish.

  “That was my idea!” Stephanie insists.

  “Nuh-uh!” Stella fires back.

  “Girls, let’s focus on making pretty cookies,” Elizabeth interrupts before they can start bickering.

  They’re quiet for only a few seconds. I decide to use the opportunity to win over Stella. “What color sprinkles should I use for the flower, Stella?”

  “Pink.” She grabs the bottle and shakes it over my flower.

  “Thanks.” I alternate between her and Stephanie, asking for their help, and making sure I don’t show too much attention to Stella, even though I’m doing my best to earn all the brownie points.

  Stella surprises us when she asks, “Is Marco having a sleepover too?”

  “No,” Elizabeth quickly answers.

  “He can’t watch Beauty and the Beast with us?”

  “I can stay and watch the movie,” I say before Elizabeth tells them I can’t. They seem excited about that, and I’m kind of excited myself. I love kids. I don’t know where the love came from as I was an only child and never spent time around other children except when in school, but I’ve always gravitated towards them. I’m always up for spending time with them and keeping them occupied when the entire team and their families get together. I don’t mind keeping watch while their parents enjoy adult time. Needless to say, I’m down with watching the movie and anything else they want to do.

  The girls had dinner before the cookie baking and decorating session began and as it winds down, Elizabeth starts cleaning up some.

  “How about we wash our hands before it’s time for the movie?” I say.

  “And change into your pjs after you wash your hands,” Elizabeth tells them as they scurry to the bathroom.

  It is getting kind of late. By the time the movie ends, it’ll be bedtime for the girls. We hear a crash and crying.

  “I’ve got it,” I tell her, rushing to the bathroom without waiting for a response. Stella is on the floor, holding her elbow. There’s a broken plastic stool and Stephanie looks worried. “What happened?” I crouch in front of Stella.

  “It broke,” Stephanie answers.

  “You okay, Stella?”

  “It hurts,” she cries.

  “What does?”

  She moves her arm like a chicken would flap its wing. I wipe her tears and gently touch her elbow. Based on how she’s sitting, it looks like she might have hit her elbow on the tub on the way down. She doesn’t wince or otherwise seem bothered, so I’m guessing there’s some pain from when it was hit. She’s still crying, though.

  “Nothing’s broken. There might be a bruise, but I think you’re okay. You’re tough like a hockey player, Stella.”

  The tears stop just like that and she grins. “Did you hear that, Aunt Lizzy? I’m tough like Daddy and Marco!”

  I glance over my shoulder to see a worried Elizabeth. “Yeah, that’s great. Wiggle your arm and extend it like this a few times, just so I know you’re okay.”

  Stella stands first, using her arm to help her up, and does as Elizabeth asks. Once she’s satisfied, I shoo her back to the kitchen and help them finish washing their hands by lifting them up and then cleaning up the minor mess that was made when she fell. I can’t stop smiling, though, because I have officially gotten on Stella’s good side.

  WHEN I WALK into the living room, Marc is sitting on the couch with Stephanie on one side and Stella on the other, both of them sitting as close as possible. They so love him. Marc grins like it was inevitable all along, which it probably was.

  “Come on. We’re waiting on you.” He taps the back of the couch where his hand is resting.

  I sit next to Stella and try to get comfortable. Marc starts the movie with one hand while he massages my neck with the other. It’s weird and almost uncomfortable to be sitting here with the girls and Marc. It’s right and wrong all at the same time. My mind gets lost in the past and in two different futures. I want to move Stella out of the way and lean into Marc while putting as much room between us as possible.

  These conflicting feelings are what I was worried about. There are entirely too many emotions battling within me right now. It’s been like this since Marc got here. Seeing a man with children causes women to go crazy to start with, but I feel like the effect is tenfold with me. Roger never really wanted kids himself, though he loved them. It was the one part of our relationship I worried about before we married because I wanted kids one day and I worried about what would happen if he didn’t change his mind.

  One way or another things changed, he died, and the world shifted again.

  I worry about that with Marc, too. Not necessarily that I’ll lose someone I love again because I know that’s a possibility with anyone in my life, but I do worry about my life being upended again for whatever reason. That’s what I worry about the most. Well, that and getting my heart broken, but at this point, I’m convinced the jaws of life couldn’t pull Marc away from me because he refuses to go anywhere.

  Movement pulls me out of my head. Marc pulls Stella into his lap before grabbing the inside of my thigh and tugging for me to slide over. He kisses my temple, his lips move over my skin, though he doesn’t say anything, and then turns his head to whisper, “Stop thinking and enjoy this.”

  I rest my head on his shoulder and watch the animated characters singing on the TV screen. Stella was half asleep, so she settles against his chest and tries to stay awake. This...this is what I want. I want someone to love. I want a family. I want a goofball like Marc who’ll make me laugh and who will be serious when I need him to be, even though he says he doesn’t know how.

  I give in. I’m his, he’s mine, and whatever happens happens.

  “Elizabeth, wake up,” I hear, my eyes reluctantly opening as I realize I fell asleep. The credits are rolling on the TV and when I sit up, both of the girls are conked out on Marc. “Go get their beds ready for me.”

  “Okay.” I shuffle to their room and pull the sheets back. Just as I finish on the second bed, Marc is coming into the room with a girl in each arm. I take Stella from him. Goodness, she’s heavier than I remember. I lie her down and tuck her in while Marc does the same with Stephanie. I kiss her forehead, and then Stephanie’s. Marc is standing in the doorway with a small smile on his face.

  “I should get going. Need anything before I leave?” He wraps his arms around my waist.

  “Stay.”

  “I thought you didn’t want me to?” He only looks mildly surprised, but there’s a satisfied grin waiting to break out, too.

  “I changed my mind. Will you?”

  “What kind of look will I get when I say I packed a bag just in case?”

  I laugh softly and push him out of the room, closing the door behind me. “Go get it, then.” While he’s gone, I go into my bathroom. I was going to change into pajamas, but one quick look in the mirror and I need a bath. How, out of the three of us, did I end up being the one needing a shower? Why didn’t Marc tell me that there was flour and icing all over my body? I wonder how much of this transferred onto the couch. I should probably check before bed because it shouldn’t sit there all night. Shower first, though.

  Sylvia dropped the girls off first thing this morning, so they’ve been wearing me out all day. It’s been great, so no complaints. I’ve missed them.

  “Elizabeth?”

  “I’m washing off all the food.”

  “Okay. I’ve locked up the house. Last chance to get me to do something for you before I get in bed.”

  “Can you make sure I didn’t get anything on the couch? I didn’t realize I was so messy.”

  “Done.”

  I take my time in the shower, and he’s scrolling through his phone when I walk out of the bathroom. He sets it aside when I crawl in next to him after setting my alarm and plugging my phone into the charger.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  “Me too. Stella finally likes me,” he exclaims with
glee, squeezing me too tight.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m not thanking you because if you’d have told me what her favorite cookie was to start with, I could’ve won her over before now.”

  “Still would’ve been with my help,” I point out.

  “Whatever,” he mumbles. “Go to sleep and dream about me.”

  “You go to sleep and dream about me.”

  “Always do.”

  I doze off with a smile on my face and Marc’s arms and legs locked around me as if he needs to keep me from escaping. I almost feel as if I should tell him he doesn’t have to worry about that, but then he might loosen his hold, and I don’t want that. He can hold me tight and I’ll enjoy it.

  “You’re pregnant? But we’re so careful. This is too soon! I’m too young! I don’t want a kid, Liz. Oh my god, we’re so careful.” He buries his face in his hands and is eerily still from where he’s hunched over on the couch. I knew he would be shocked and possibly upset, but I didn’t expect that he’d be flat-out distraught. Roger lifts his head. “Let’s give it to Scott and Sylvia.”

  “What?” All I can do is stare at him.

  “This is not in the cards for us, Liz. And you know how much this would mean for them.” He nods his head like this is all making sense and is exactly what we should do. “We should let them adopt the baby and I’ll finally get the vasectomy.” His eyes narrow a bit, like this is my fault because I’ve been the one who begs him not to do the procedure, hoping he’d change his mind one day.

  “But this is our baby.”

  “That we don’t want and have done almost everything but abstain and have the procedure to prevent from making.”

  “Why don’t you want kids?” God, how many times have I asked him that since he proposed?

  He sighs because he’s sick and tired of me asking. “I’ve told you; I just don’t. Kids are awesome, but I don’t want to raise any. I want two responsibilities in life: me and you. That’s it, Liz.”

  “So, you honestly think that after spending nine months with me pregnant, that we’ll be able to hand this baby over to Scott and Sylvia and go on about our lives? That we’ll be able to be aunt and uncle instead of mom and dad and that it won’t be weird?”

  “We can make it work,” he says with definiteness.

  He’s out of his mind! He doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of keeping our baby. He didn’t even ask me what I want! He made the decision himself. What he hasn’t thought about is how this is my body and I’m carrying this baby and it’s ultimately my decision, and there is no way in hell I’m being hasty. I know that much. I also know that I already want to rebel against the idea of giving this baby up, even to my brother- and sister-in-law. I turn and walk out of the house, ignoring his shouts, even though there’s a sinking feeling in my gut.

  “Liz! Get back here! Liz!”

  At the last second, I whirl around and Roger is there in front of me. He grabs my shoulders. “Are you fucking crazy? What is wrong with you? No kids! What are you doing? You’re killing us! Dating Marc? Ha! You’re killing me!”

  “Stop!” I scream at him. What is he doing? What is he talking about?

  “You’re a cold-hearted bitch, Liz! Selfish, too. They deserve this and they want this more than we do. Why are you dating Marc? What the fuck is wrong with you? Liz, stop!” I’ve started hitting him at some point, and I don’t stop because he’s a bastard and I’m livid! “Liz! Liz! Liz! Elizabeth! Elizabeth! ELIZABETH!”

  My eyes flash open and someone is holding my shoulders down, hovering over me. My chest is heaving, I’m struggling against the hold, but once I focus and see that it’s Marc, I still. Tears spill over as the dream rushes at me and overwhelms me.

  Marc falls to the side and pulls me into his arms. “It was only a dream. You’re okay now.” He rubs my back, but I still feel shaken. “You can pack a mean punch, even in your sleep.”

  “I was hitting you?”

  “Yeah. Hope it wasn’t me in your dream, too.” Marc wipes away my tears, and I just shake my head. “Don’t want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  He kisses me softly and holds me tightly, not saying a word more about it. Sleep doesn’t come so easily after that. I doze off here and there, tossing and turning, but I’m awake and exhausted when my alarm goes off.

  Sylvia was probably right in ways she doesn’t even know about when she said I should see a therapist. God, I forgot how much Roger and I argued. Last night’s bizarre dream made me think of our last year together. It was not good. It was rough. How could I have forgotten that?

  “Stay,” Marc orders when I try to pull out of his arms. “I’ll get them up and ready. Try to get some more sleep. No arguing, so don’t even think about it.” He kisses me, hard and firm, before getting out of the bed and leaving me to wake the girls. Hopefully, I didn’t keep him up with my restlessness. If one of us needs to be well-rested, it’s the professional athlete.

  I hear groans and then giggles. He must’ve said something funny.

  “What are you smiling for?” Marc appears in the doorway.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He runs into the room and leaps onto the bed with a squeal. “Oh my goodness!” I laugh as he pulls me into his arms and rolls us around in a frenzy. “Elizabeth is glad I’m here. She likes me! She really, really likes me!” He starts kissing all over my face, and all I can do is laugh.

  “What are y’all doing?” Our heads whip over to the doorway at the sound of Stephanie’s voice.

  “Your Aunt Lizzy likes me.”

  She looks confused, so I add, “Marco is crazy and likes to act crazy. Are you and your sister dressed?” She nods. “Maybe Marco will fix you breakfast.”

  “Done,” he says, smacking a kiss on my cheek. “You need to get ready now, too.” He rolls off me and goes over to Stephanie, taking her hand and I hear him discussing the details of breakfast. I sigh happily and get out of bed to get ready.

  There’s a darkness on the edge of my mind. It’s waiting for the right moment to pounce and attack, but I don’t want to let it. Not when I feel like I can breathe in fresh air, genuinely smile, and when I’m letting my defenses fall with Marc. Life already did a few numbers on me when Roger died; I don’t want to keep revisiting that, though I know it’s coming with the anniversary of his death next week.

  It’s like for the past six years I was locked away in a stuffy old house full of selective memories of the past. I could walk around the house, think about the good times, and I could stand at a window to watch the colorful world outside keep moving along, but I couldn’t walk outside because the door wouldn’t open.

  And now, I’m outside.

  There’s clean fresh air to fill my lungs until they’re so full they want to burst. There’s soft green grass underneath my feet. There’s the laughter and giggles of the twins and I can appreciate the sight of them being kids. There’s the strong arms of Scott and Sylvia around me as they welcome me back like I was never missing. But best of all, there’s a tall blond-haired, blue-eyed goofball of a hockey player who challenges me, irks me, makes my insides feel all gooey and sweet, and as I told him before, he frees me.

  Goodness, I forgot how addicting this feeling was. If Marc has been feeling this way from the start, like he says, it’s no wonder he refused to give up. Who would want to let go of this giddy, heady feeling of wanting someone and needing to be around them? It simply feels too good. It’s not even the feeling itself. It’s him. It’s because it’s him that even when I didn’t want a relationship, a friend or anything that was offered, I craved him.

  Sometimes, I still think I’m out of my mind.

  Lately, I’m okay with that because Sylvia accomplished her goal: I’m happy.

  Wearing the shirt Marc bought me, I enter the box. I fake a smile as I walk past some of the wives and girlfriends I’m unfamiliar with as I move to the front where Meredith, Sylvia, and Theresa are sitting.r />
  “Oh, she’s showing team spirit!” Sylvia exclaims when she sees me.

  “Turn around,” Meredith says. I do and I hear, “Because she’s marking her territory.”

  I laugh and sit next to her. “No, I’m not. I didn’t even buy the shirt.”

  “Ooh, so Marco is claiming what’s his,” Theresa says.

  “Lots of people in this building are wearing a shirt or jersey with his name and number on the back,” I point out.

  “But none of them were purchased by Marc and none of them are also being worn by his girlfriend.” Sylvia smiles with satisfaction when I roll my eyes. Conversation pauses for the national anthem, and then the guys prepare for the center ice face-off.

  “How are things with Marc?” Meredith asks.

  Sylvia suddenly reaches over Meredith and grabs my arm. “Where are your headphones?”

  “Not using them tonight.”

  “Are you ready for that?”

  I shrug. “There’s alcohol in here, right? Just in case.” She nods and leans back in her seat. I was feeling relatively fine until she brought it up, and now, the nerves are back in full force.

  “So, Marc and you? How are things?” Meredith repeats.

  “Great.”

  “That’s it?” Theresa asks. All three of them look disappointed.

  “Am I supposed to add more?”

  “Yes,” they answer in unison.

  Uncomfortable, I glance out onto the ice. The shiny sheen is mostly gone as thin tracks from their skates have drawn over it. My chest tightens as I hear the players skating and the puck smack loudly against the glass. It always blew my mind that something as small as a puck can make such a loud noise in an arena full of rowdy people. Then again, they are hitting it and sending it flying at high speeds, so...

  But the good news is there’s no imaginary blood on the ice and aside from the moderate anxiety causing turmoil in my chest, I’m okay. Then I realize the girls aren’t paying attention to the game because they are still wanting details.