“I need my bride to talk to me,” he murmurs. “Tell me what’s happening up here.” He cradles the back of my head, submerging his fingers in my damp hair.
I nod, willing myself not to cry, knowing that this part—no matter how hard—is necessary. “I wished I wasn’t pregnant, Sonny,” I begin, just loud enough to be heard. “Before we knew for certain, when I was sure we weren’t ready, I hoped that my suspicions were wrong.”
“Shorty—”
I shake my head at him, cutting him off before he can offer any type of counterargument. “Once we knew—I was a wreck. My stress…our baby felt my stress and—”
“You can’t do this. You can’t talk like that, sweetheart; you can’t think those things,” he insists, placing a finger over my lips. “Those are lies.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He furrows his brow at me, his eyes full of bewilderment and concern. “You can’t wish a baby away. You know that. Not to mention, your stress isn’t big enough to do any permanent damage to anyone. Shorty—there are babies born every day that are addicted to drugs. There are mothers far more careless during their pregnancy than you will ever be. You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. Nothing.”
“Then why—?” I instinctively grip his shoulder, needing him to serve as my anchor as the reality of our loss hits me like a tidal wave. “Why would God just—?”
He presses his lips against my forehead, pulling my body closer to his with an arm around my waist. “I don’t know, Ave,” he mutters against my skin. “I know that answer brings you no solace, but I don’t know. Honestly, knowing why wouldn’t make this any easier. I know you think it would; I know answers seem like the one thing missing from this whole equation, but that’s not what we should be after.”
“I robbed you,” I choke the words out, burrowing further into his chest. “I failed you—your baby—”
“No. No, Avery. You didn’t fail me,” he insists, tightening his grip around me. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry I let you think this way for so long. God—one in four.” He pulls away from me just enough to tip my chin and level my gaze to meet his. “One in four women have a miscarriage. One in four. You, Mrs. O’Conner, are incredibly special to me—our baby was special to me—but our loss…it’s not out of the ordinary. It’s not the least bit uncommon. One in four,” he says, shaking his head. “Sometimes, the baby just doesn’t make it. Just like, sometimes, babies aren’t born healthy. You can’t blame yourself, Shorty. You can’t go on thinking that you’re a failure or that you stole anything from me. This is our loss and it just…it just happened. We have to keep going. Keep loving. Keep living. Keep believing. Keep hoping…together.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe every word that has come out of his mouth. I want to grip onto of his confidence and his assurances but—there’s a part of me that can’t let go of my doubt.
My pain. My body. My fault…
My mantra.
“I hear you thinking. Stop. Take a break.” His hand glides over my backside pulling me against his semi-hard on. “Just like I promised you, we’re going to get through this. I don’t care how many times I have to take you to the doctor for her to explain it to you again, you’re going to stop blaming yourself. I’ll help you any way that I can, Shorty. Do you hear me?”
I bite the inside of my cheek and offer him a nod.
“I love you,” he says, rolling on top of me. Before I can respond in kind, he distracts me as he scatters tender kisses on my face and down my neck. “I’m going to make babies with you, Mrs. O’Conner. When we’re ready, when the time is right, you’ll be my sexy, little, waddling mama.”
My heart swells at the sound of his words and I don’t know whether to cry or to—gasp—I gasp when he lowers his mouth and closes his lips around one of my nipples. They both pebble as he palms my other breast, my desire for him pooling between my legs. My emotions have me feeling all over the place, but my body belongs to this man. It hasn’t forgotten, after all these weeks, not a single inch of me has forgotten.
“Sonny…”
“We’re going to have the smartest kids, Ave,” he mutters, kissing his way from one breast to the other. “You’ll teach them music and I’ll teach them math. And football. All of our kids will love football.”
As he worships my opposite nipple, he cups his hand around my center. I’m overwhelmed by all that he’s making me feel—with his mouth, with his fingers, with his words. My heart is beating so fast, filled to the brim with anticipation, and hope, and my lingering grief. I search my mind for the words to say, but I find none. All I can mange is—“Sonny…”
“And they’ll be beautiful,” he continues, kissing his way up my chest, along my neck and toward my lips. “They’ll be beautiful because their mother is the most stunning woman in the world.”
He dips two fingers inside of me as he opens his mouth over mine. I don’t think twice about slipping my tongue past his lips. We both groan together as he fingers me while we savor each other’s mouths.
“I’ve missed you so much, Avery.”
I grip his face as I thrust my hips, my body now burning with want. “I missed you. I’m so sorry—I’m sorry.”
“No more apologizing,” he insists, pumping his fingers faster. I arch my back away from the bed, craving more—needing more.
“Oh, Sonny, please…” I whimper.
“What do you want, Shorty? What does my gorgeous girl want?”
“You—I need you inside of me. Make love to me, Grayson. Please—make love to me.”
Without another word, he replaces his fingers with his cock as he slowly enters my heat, slick with my arousal. He rolls his hips and I am home—joined as one with the man I will always need more than my next breath. He takes his time, every stroke a declaration, a reminder—a promise.
We’re better together. Forever and always.
I wrap my legs and arms around him, needing him as close as possible as my orgasm begins to bloom—the warm, delectable sensation deep inside of me sending tingles up my spine.
“Grayson—oh—Grayson! I’m gonna—I’m gonna come!”
“Let go, Ave. Let go. Take what’s yours, sweetheart. I’m right behind you.”
I cry out in ecstasy as his whispers in my ear beckon me over the edge and into orgasmic bliss. As I clench around him, I pull forth his release right on the heels of mine.
“Ave—God, Avery—yes, Avery—I love you, Ave. I love you,” he mutters into my neck. When he is spent, he collapses on top of me and I relish in the glorious weight of him, stealing my breath.
“Avery?” he speaks a few moments later, breaking the comfortable silence between us.
“Yes, Love?”
He props himself up on his elbows and looks down at me, his eyes full of adoration as he sweeps loose tendrils of hair away from my face. “You’re my heart. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I promise. You’re mine, too.”
I put the car in park and look over at my girl. She’s bundled up in her coat, scarf, beanie, and mittens, looking as adorable as ever. When she turns her head, shifting her focus away from the view before us and onto me, she smiles. Damn, I think as my dick twitches. She’s sexy, too—and I’m the lucky bastard that gets to call her mine.
“You ready?” I ask, reaching over to give her jean covered thigh a squeeze. She nods before she steps out into the cold, snowy, dusk that seems to be waiting just for us. I reach into the backseat, grabbing the balloons purchased a few minutes ago, before exiting the warmth of the car as well.
“We better hurry, before we lose the sun,” she tells me, reaching for my hand. I wrap her fingers in mine and then we set out, trekking through the snow covered grass of the park. The playground that we pass is vacant, the chill and the evening keeping kids inside the warmth of their homes. We won’t be staying long, either. My stomach is already looking forward to the hot pizza I’ll fill it with as I dine with my wife on our date later.
�
�Okay, here is good.” We stop and she takes a deep breath before offering me another smile.
I’m so freaking proud of this woman. She’s the most amazing person in my entire world. I’m more grateful for her than I will ever be able to express. The last six months haven’t been the easiest, but we’ve managed to come through stronger than we’ve ever been before. She is stronger than she’s ever been before.
Her grief after the miscarriage latched onto her something fierce. Even after that day in September that shifted our relationship back on track, she needed help. The lies that had her heart bound in blame took some time to remove, but we did it together. We had help, of course, from our parents and her doctor and my counselor, but we did what needed to be done as a united front.
She still gets sad somedays, as do I, but we also live with the hope of the future. Our future. I have no doubts about the family we will create together. Whenever that happens, we’ll embrace it with open minds, open arms, and open hearts. Whenever that day comes, we’ll be ready—together.
I drop Grayson’s hand and close the gap between us, wishing for his warmth. He wraps his arm around my shoulders without a moment’s hesitation and I snuggle against him. If anyone is watching us, two lone figures standing in the freezing cold, each of our breaths visible with every puff of condensation from our exhalations, they probably think we’re crazy. If we stand out here for too much longer, I might think we’re crazy—but I won’t deny that I wish for a moment more with my husband.
I know it’s silly for me to say that I wouldn’t have gotten through the last nine months without him, as I wouldn’t have been able to conceive without him, but I’ll say it anyway. There’s no way that I could have endured the journey that has been the last nine months without the incredible man at my side. The fear. The worry. The joy. The anticipation. The pain. The loss. The sorrow. The blame…he was with me through it all, even when I tried to keep him at arms length, he was there. I’ll never be able to thank him enough, but I sure will try—every single day for the rest of our lives.
I can hardly believe that in just a couple of months, we’ll be entering into life after grad school. Our decision to stay in the Chicago area was first made when we were thinking as parents. Even after our reality changed, life and opportunity encouraged our original plan. Soon, Grayson will be working full-time and I will be a member of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. It still totally blows my mind that I got in; Sonny is always sure to roll his eyes when I say so, telling me that I was bound for greatness and this is only my beginning. I hope he’s right. Nevertheless, I will humbly strive to be the woman he sees when he looks at me—I will strive to be someone worthy of his pride.
“Hey,” he mutters, his lips pressed against the top of my head. “Did you want to say something or just hang out for another couple minutes?”
“I have something to say.” I look up at him before I reach for one of the balloons. I end up with the blue one and he the pink. He nods at me, as if to express that he’s listening. “I just wanted to say that I love you and I believe that our baby, conceived by love, is in heaven—whole and cherished and adored by his or her Creator.” A knot slowly forms in my throat as my eyes fill with tears. “I wish that we got the chance to meet today so that I could love him or her as only a mother can, but I know that it wasn’t meant to be. I’m happy to say that my mourning has been turned into joy knowing that our baby got to skip all of this—all the brokenness of this world. Instead, our baby was taken to a perfect place. I really believe that. And I know that one day we’ll get the chance to meet. I embrace that hope with everything that I am.”
“I do too, sweetheart,” Grayson says before pressing a kiss against my forehead.
“Thank you for doing this with me,” I tell him, giving him a squeeze.
“Hey, it’s you and me against the world, Shorty. Forever and always.”
“Forever and always,” I repeat, tilting my head back to signal my desire. He responds without further prompting, bringing his lips to mine.
“Alright—ready to let these go?”
Looking from my blue balloon to his pink one, I hope we never have to spend another due date like this ever again; rather, I hope our future will be full of birthdays. Today, however, will not ever be overlooked or forgotten. Today, we’ll take a moment to remember.
I sniff, finally answering my husband with a nod. “On three?”
“Okay,” he replies.
“Okay,” I echo. “One. Two. Three.”
Really, I just want to keep this short and sweet. Thank you to everyone out there who believes in me and what I’m doing. There’s a purpose behind my passion which fuels my dedication and my hard work. I appreciate everyone who stands behind me—encouraging me, cheering me on, challenging me, and supporting me. My dream is meaningless if not for the people that it touches. So thank YOU for picking up this book.
R.C. Martin finds it a bit awkward referring to herself in the third person, so she's only going to do it for this one sentence. (We all know who's writing this bio anyway!)
I'm a born and bred Coloradan. I will always claim that square state as my home! While I now reside in Virginia, the land of the Rocky Mountains is where I've left a piece of my heart and where my characters come to life. I'm a woman in love with love and filled to the brim with compassion for women like me, on a journey to find themselves in today's society. I aspire to inspire my readers to do more than settle. I hope that my writing will remind everyone that she (or he!) is valuable and worthy of the best kind of love--the kind that is gentle, patient, faithful, passionate, all consuming, never ending, and leaves you breathless.
When I'm not writing I'm reading; when I'm not reading I'm writing...you know how it goes! I also enjoy cooking, baking, crocheting, and jigsaw puzzles. Basically, I'm an old soul with a young heart, nonchalantly waiting for my prince to come.
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