“Promise me that if you need to rest, you will rest.”
“I promise.” I give him a salute. “Now let’s see what you got for me.”
I hold out my hand, and he picks up the bag and passes it to me. Opening it up, I fight back a laugh as I pull out the dress to get a better look at it.
“Well, it’s definitely festive.” I stand up and hold the red, white, and blue dress up in front of me. The top of the dress is dark blue with white stars, and the bottom part is red and white stripes.
“There weren’t a lot of options,” he says, sounding unsure. “Is it okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
I go to him, wedge myself between his spread thighs, and his hands move to my stomach. He drops his forehead and rests it there.
“Thank you.”
I run my fingers through his hair, and he tips his head back to look at me. I bend at the waist as best I can and touch my mouth to his, then take a step back and put on my new dress over my head. The band that wraps around my breasts is a little snug, but besides that, the rest of the material skims over my stomach and slides down my body. It just touches the floor. Going across the room, I check myself out in the mirror, turning side to side. I look very patriotic.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I meet his gaze in the mirror and shake my head when I see how dark his eyes are. He is really in love with my pregnant body. I don’t get it, but I do appreciate that he still finds me attractive. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to be.” He stands up from the bed and comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me, settling his hands on my waist, and his chin on the top of my head. “Remember what you promised?”
“I remember . . .” I roll my eyes, then turn in his arms and get up on tiptoes and peck his lips. “Let me finish getting ready, and we can go.”
“Take your time.” He kisses my forehead, then turns me toward the door. Going past the living room, I head into the bathroom and finish getting ready. I hear the TV turn on. I have no doubt that he’s watching one of his guy shows while working on either the crib or the dresser we picked up from Ikea a few days ago. Both things came in a million pieces. I didn’t even pretend to know where to start, which left him on his own.
After brushing out my hair, I put it up in a bun, then put on some tinted moisturizer, blush, and mascara. Once I’m done, I head into the kitchen and pull out my ever-present pitcher of grape Crystal Light. I’m so addicted to the stuff that I drink about a quart a day. After filling up my tumbler, I take it with me to the living room and take a seat on the couch to watch Wesley finish one more dresser drawer.
“Do you think we should move?” I ask.
He stops what he’s doing.
“I know we said we would wait until after he gets here, but we only have the one bedroom, and he seems to be accumulating a lot of stuff already,” I say, looking around the living room.
Last month, my sisters threw me a baby shower, and we got so many diapers and other things that we will need for the baby that there isn’t any room left in the apartment for us.
“Gorgeous, you are in no shape to move. I’m not going to put you through that right now. We’ll move after the baby’s born.”
“Don’t you think it will be harder to move with a newborn?” I ask.
He looks around, then down at my stomach. He drops his face into his hands for a moment and grumbles something I can’t make out.
“We need to go to your parents’.” He stands and pulls me up to stand with him.
Grabbing his hand, I stop him before he can get away. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. We just need to hit the road if we’re going to make it there in time for lunch.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He bends and kisses me quickly before leaning back. “Let’s go.”
I grab my bag from the top of the kitchen table and then take his hand and follow him out of the house. The car is parked a block away. Once there, he helps me in, then jogs around to get behind the wheel. Checking my cell phone, I see a text from Fawn letting me know that she and Levi just arrived out on Long Island and that traffic was horrible.
“Fawn said they just got to Mom and Dad’s, and that traffic is backed up.”
“It’s all right. We’ll make it there in time for the fireworks,” he says.
I laugh while turning to put on my seat belt.
“Oh.” I pull in a quick breath as a sharp pain shoots through my abdomen.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?” he repeats, sounding on edge.
“I . . . Oh!” I grab hold of my stomach when another sharp pain hits me.
“You’re not okay,” he growls.
I bite my lip. He’s right, I’m not okay.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“It’s too soon for me to have the baby.”
“It’s not too soon.” He rests his open palm over my stomach. “He’s already nine pounds, and his lungs are developed. If he’s coming early, everything will be okay. Okay?”
“Okay.” Feeling slightly reassured, I take one deep breath, then another, as he pulls the car out into traffic and rushes us to the hospital. We call my parents and everyone on the way.
WESLEY
“Push!” the doctor instructs.
Mackenzie bears down once more while squeezing my fingers so tight that I swear she’s going to cause them to fall off from lack of blood flow.
“You’re doing so good, gorgeous. Just keep pushing,” I encourage gently.
“Shut up! No one wants your stupid advice! It’s your fault that I’m in this situation, you jerk!” she screams, her face turning red.
I would be offended by the outburst, but just minutes ago she was telling me how much she loved me. Since going into labor, she has adopted multiple personalities.
“I know it’s my fault. I’m sorry,” I agree. She squeezes harder.
I hate this. I hate that she’s in pain.
“Okay, relax for me,” the doctor says.
She falls back on the bed and closes her eyes. Taking the wet washcloth off her brow, I kiss her forehead and replace it with a new one that’s cold.
“I see the head. Let’s go again!” the doctor calls.
I hold on to her hand and pull back her knee while the nurse across from me does the same thing.
“He’s here!” the doctor says.
I stupidly look down between Mackenzie’s legs, instantly regretting it when I see blood—lots of blood—and a round object ripping her open.
“He’s going down!” I hear someone shout at the other end of the tunnel I’ve fallen into, right before everything goes dark.
Hearing a beep, beep, beep, I squint my eyes open against the bright light above me. Someone is shining a flashlight in my eyes.
“Welcome back.” Mackenzie smiles at me, and I shake my head and sit up.
“What happened?”
“You passed out,” the nurse says while she rolls her eyes.
“I passed out . . .”
I look around, and my stomach drops. Seeing Mackenzie adjust a bundle of blankets against her chest, everything comes back to me. Baby! She was having our baby. Quickly getting up, I rush across the room and straight through the nurses moving around at her side.
“Are you okay? Are you both okay?”
“We are both fine.” She pulls back the edge of the blanket, and tears fill my eyes as I fall instantly in love for the second time in my life.
Our son is adorable. He’s the perfect mixture of his mom and me. When he opens his eyes and looks up at me, the tears I was trying to control spill over.
“I know that we were still trying to come up with a name for him,” she says.
I kiss the top of his head.
“Do you have an idea?” I ask, sliding my fingers across his fuzz-covered head.
“Dustin.
”
“Really?” My voice sounds like I just swallowed gravel.
“He looks like a Dustin, doesn’t he?” she asks, touching her fingers to his nose and then his chin.
“He does,” I agree, resting my lips on her forehead. “Thank you, gorgeous.”
“For what?” She pulls her eyes from our boy to look at me.
“For everything. For bringing me back to life and giving me something to fight for.”
“I love you, Wesley.” She tucks her forehead into my throat, and I hold her and our son. I vow then and there to keep them safe always.
Seven months later . . .
WESLEY
“I love you, gorgeous, but if your mom doesn’t give me my boy and get the hell out of our house, I’m going to lose my mind,” I growl, standing above Mackenzie in the bathtub. Seeing her naked is making me hard, but I try to ignore that.
Peeking up at me, she squints her eyes. “You want me to go out and tell my mom to hand over her grandson and go home?” she asks, sounding like my request is irrational.
“Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest.
She stands up in the bath, and water skims down her body. God, I thought I couldn’t keep my hands off her before the pregnancy, but since she’s had our son, I have become obsessed—or more obsessed—than ever.
“Do not even think about it.” She holds out her hand, pressing it against my chest when I take a step toward her. “Please hand me a towel.” She wiggles her fingers.
Reluctantly, I hand one over and watch her cover herself up. Without even bothering to dry off, she stomps past me, through the bedroom, and into the living room. She comes to a stop in front of her mom, who is sitting on the couch cooing at seven-month-old Dustin.
“Mom, what did I tell you about giving Dustin to Wesley when he asks for him?” she asks, crossing her arms over her towel-covered chest.
“I was feeding him,” Katie lies, trying to look innocent.
Everyone knows that the woman is a baby hog.
“Well, he’s not eating now. So please hand him over to his father so that he can spend some time with him and I can continue taking my bath.”
“Oh, fine,” she huffs as she stands. Bringing him to me, she mutters “snitch” under her breath. She gives me the evil eye before kissing my son and placing him in my arms.
She heads off to the front door, where she picks up her purse. “I won’t see you guys until next weekend.”
“Bummer . . . ,” I mutter only loud enough for Mackenzie to hear.
She smacks my chest before walking toward her mom.
“Thank you for coming over and watching Dustin for us today.”
“Anytime.” She gives Mackenzie a peck on the cheek and me another glare before she leaves.
I ignore the look—I’m used to them. She and I constantly go round and round about Dustin. On the one hand, I love that she’s always willing to step in when we need her. On the other, when I want my son, I want my son. I probably shouldn’t have bought a house down the block from Mackenzie’s parents. I didn’t think about what it would be like to live so close to her mom.
“Thank you, gorgeous.” I kiss the side of Mackenzie’s head when her mom leaves.
She rolls her eyes, then heads back to the bathroom. I take Dustin into the bedroom. Lying down with him on the bed, I stare into his eyes. They look just like his mom’s. I smile when he does.
“I know you like spending time with your grandma, but she has to learn to share,” I tell him.
He smiles a toothless smile, then babbles something I can’t make out. Probably something about how much he loves his grandma.
“I know, kid,” I agree, bringing him to my chest and holding him there. I close my eyes and listen to my son’s breath even out, then I fall asleep with him.
When Mackenzie gets out of the bath, she wakes up both of us.
“One more,” I say to Mackenzie as she tucks Dustin into his bed, bending over the side to kiss his forehead.
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, running her finger down our son’s cheek.
She hasn’t gotten on birth control since Dustin was born, and I have been attempting to convince her for weeks that we should have another baby. She wants to wait until after we get married. I told her that it doesn’t matter. We can get married at the courthouse as soon as she wants—the only rule is that her dad gets to be there to give her away.
“Who knows how long it will take to conceive? We got lucky last time, and that is not always the case . . . ,” I remind her as we get into bed. Curling to my side, I wrap my hand around her hip. “I want Dustin to have a sibling to grow up with. I want him to have a best friend.”
“Wesley . . . ,” her husky voice calls.
I dip my chin to find her head tipped back and her sleepy eyes on me. Taking her in, all I can think is how beautiful she is.
“Yeah?” I ask.
She touches my chin as I run my finger across her hairline and tuck her hair behind her ear, watching her pupils dilate as her hips shift against mine. Without answering, she slides her body up and wraps her hand around my jaw.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, let’s have another baby,” she answers against my lips.
A growl vibrates in my chest, and I lean forward while sliding my fingers through her hair at the side of her head. I pull her mouth closer to mine, and her lips part without command, allowing my tongue to touch hers. The moment her taste hits me, I know I won’t be able to slow down or stop. Like always, my need for her is more than I can control. Pulling her up to straddle my waist, I sit up, then cup her ass and slide inside her. Connecting with her like this centers me. There is nothing better than being inside her. Using my hands on her hips, I control her movements and slow her down. “Like this.” I rock her hips, and her head falls back. Her cascading hair hits the tops of my thighs. Listening to her moan, I slide my hands up her waist and cup her breasts, pulling her nipples. Her body bucks, and her forehead drops to my chest.
“Wesley . . .”
“Give me your mouth,” I growl.
She lifts her head and looks at me through lust-filled eyes. Sitting up, she leans forward and covers my mouth with hers. I lick into her mouth and listen to her whimper as I lift my hips up into hers.
“I’m so close.”
“I know, gorgeous.” I feel her walls clamp down around me; then she moves her hand between our bodies. I know what she’s reaching for. “Lean back. I want to watch you touch yourself.” I help her sit back, then watch as she works her clit while riding me. “Christ, do you know how beautiful you look filled with my cock?” I pull her nipples, and she moans even louder while her pussy convulses, making my balls tighten up and my spine tingle. Knowing I’m getting close, that I’m about to lose it, I sit up and capture one breast. I suck her nipple hard while pulling and tugging the other. “Fuck! Ride me harder,” I growl.
She starts to rock against me with more force than before. I listen to her whimper right before she starts to come, her pussy strangling my cock. Lifting my hips up into hers, I come deep inside her and groan my release around her nipple.
Her body slumps against mine, and I wrap my arms around her and tuck my face into her neck.
“I love you,” she whispers when our breathing has evened out.
I squeeze my eyes closed. I will never get used to hearing those words from her. Never.
Ten months later . . .
MAC
Staring up at the ceiling, watching the morning light move across the surface, I smile. Wesley wraps his hand around my waist on one side of me, and Dustin tosses his tiny arm over my neck on the other. Dustin doesn’t normally sleep with us, but I think that he is still so wired after Christmas yesterday that he couldn’t sleep—meaning he woke up and there was nothing we could do to get him back to sleep in his own bed. Eventually we both gave up trying and just let him sleep in here with us. He started out be
tween his dad and me, but at some point he must have moved to my other side. So I’m now sandwiched between my boys. Feeling the need to use the restroom, I carefully scoot out from between them and get off at the end of the bed.
After grabbing Wesley’s flannel robe on the way to the bathroom, I put it on and wrap it around my waist. Stepping over unwrapped toys and stacks of clothes that still need to be put away, I go into the bathroom and bite my lip when I see the pregnancy test I set on the counter last night.
Opening the box, I scan the directions and then take the test. I set it on the counter, wash my hands, and lean back. I inhale sharply when I feel Wesley’s hand slide around my waist and his chin come to rest on my shoulder.
“Morning.” I rest the side of my head against his.
“Morning, gorgeous.” He kisses my neck, and my body relaxes back into his.
This moment is nothing like the last time I was in a bathroom taking a pregnancy test. I have no worries. Not only do Wesley and I have a solid relationship but we got married five months ago—a month after Dustin’s first birthday, which made everything with us complete.
“How long do we have to wait?” his sleepy voice rumbles. I turn my head and meet his gaze.
“About three minutes,” I say, seeing the anxiousness in his gaze. Then again, he’s been anxious every month for the last ten—since we said that we were going to try for another baby.
When the screen finally flashes and the answer we have been waiting for appears, I feel him tense behind me.
“Am I seeing things?”
“No,” I whisper as love and happiness overwhelm me.
“Jesus.” His hand moves to my stomach, and his face moves to the crook of my neck.
Covering his hand with my own, I close my eyes and soak in this feeling.
“Mama. Dada,” Dustin says.
I turn in Wesley’s arms to watch Dustin stumble sleepily into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes.
“Hey, baby.” I smile at my boy, and he comes over to me and his dad, holding out his arms. Reaching down, I pick him up.
Wesley wraps his arms around the two of us.
“I love you two,” he says gruffly.
Stumbling Into Love Page 18