by Jennifer Ann
“Scrambled eggs okay?” Asher calls over his shoulder.
“You really don’t have to make anything for me. I probably just need a glass of water.”
I’m so busy appreciating his tight body that I almost miss the carton of eggs cradled in his arms as he starts for the professional stove that I know for a fact costs more than my car. Sofia ordered it one afternoon while I was here visiting my nephew for the first time. It’s almost gross how people with that kind of money can spend obscene amounts without batting an eye. If Charlie and Nolan weren’t so kind-hearted and good to my sisters, I wouldn’t want anything to do with them. Between James’s fighting career and Sharlo’s inheritance, they aren’t too far behind.
“Angie.”
Asher stands in front of me with a glass of water in one hand and orange pills in the other. I blink heavily before taking them.
“Is everything all right with you?” he asks, watching me side-eyed as I gulp the water down. “James told me you were seeing some rich guy that took you sailing around the world. I know a lot has changed since we spent any real time together at your folks’ place, but for someone living that kind of high-life, you seem…I don’t know.” Setting his hands on the island behind me, he leans in closer. Close enough to kiss. Then his beautiful eyes flip back and forth between mine. “Miserable.”
Encased by his hulking body, my breaths come out in short little bursts, filling with his scent that’s all man. With any other guy I might feel threatened—trapped even—but somehow Asher makes me feel safe. And desired.
His breaths become heavier when his gaze drops down to my lips. Stomach in knots, I consider asking him to kiss me and do dirty things to my body that would erase all the sordid memories of John. My nipples become painfully tight in anticipation, reminding me I’m not wearing a bra. And he’s not wearing a shirt. We’re already half naked. It would only take a single slip of material if we both gave in.
The Asher hovering over me is no longer my little brother’s mildly annoying friend who liked to play practical jokes on me and Sofia. He’s a total gentleman, waiting behind those sinfully sick lashes for permission to make his move. And I imagine it would feel amazing to grip his hot buns of steel in my hands while he’s doing it.
“John and I aren’t together anymore,” I blurt, immediately ready to kick myself for being so transparent. Lowering my chin, I grimace. “So…there’s that.”
“Did this guy hurt you?” he snaps. “So help me, if he did something to you, I’ll hunt the fucker down myself and kick his ass.”
The imagery of someone Asher’s size pummeling someone like John Mathers, who can’t even carry his own luggage, strikes a funny bone. I burst out laughing uncontrollably, holding my stomach with tears of hysteria filling my eyes. It’s uncharacteristic of me, but for some reason I can’t stop.
Asher backs away from me, scowling. “I’m not joking.” His words come out like a raw, dangerous growl. “You deserve better than some rich fuckwad who’s dumb enough to let the perfect woman slip through his fingers.”
Taking a deep stuttering breath, I’m able to assert some control. “I’m far from perfect,” I say, dabbing my eyes with a finger.
“Not from where I’m standing.”
When I look into his eyes, a smaller bubble of laughter escapes me. “Nice line. Sounds like something from a chick flick. All the ladies back home must be tripping over themselves to get with you.”
“Maybe a few.” His serious demeanor finally breaks, giving way to a crooked, boyish smile.
God, he’s beyond gorgeous. Why am I just noticing this now, and why do I feel a blush coming on?
A light in the attached living room flips on and Asher steps back just as Nolan shuffles into the room wearing boxers and a t-shirt. “Thought I heard something.” While scratching his head, he looks over to the stove. “That smells awesome.”
“Angie needed something to soak up the booze,” Asher tells him, returning to the stove. He throws me a look over his shoulder that I’m not completely sure how to take, except I think I catch a glimmer of regret for being interrupted.
I’m admittedly annoyed with my brother-in-law for walking in and ruining what had the potential to be a fantastic time, but I’m also relieved that I won’t have to deal with the emotional aftermath that would follow a fling with my brother’s best friend.
I won’t be in the city much longer anyway, and don’t need any more complications in my already messed up life.
Chapter 18
KATIE
Sometime around nine I find myself wandering into the spacious kitchen via the aroma of nutty coffee brewing calling to me like a bullhorn through a groggy haze. My very pregnant sister-in-law leans back against the large island, already dressed for the gift opening in an a-line dress with black floral print that the three of us created exclusively for her a few months back.
I almost trip over her feet when I notice she’s grimacing. Thick lashes brushing her cheeks, hands smoothing over her belly, rouged cheeks puffed out with a slow breath, it would seem she’s in serious pain. Possibly in labor. How did I not notice yesterday how much her bulging stomach has dropped? Holy hell.
“Ev?” I ask, telling myself to remain calm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just having some of those Braxton hicks things. I’ve been having them a lot the past few days. I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want Shar to worry.” Opening her eyes, she tries to smile, but her expression remains strained. “Charlie had to meet with his producer this morning, so he’s just going to take a cab from there to the gift opening. I put some coffee on, thinking you might be hurting after last night.”
“Thanks.” As I start for the coffee pot, my conversation with Jason comes back in a blinding rush, and I moan. “I was a mess last night, huh? I called my ex after we got here. I haven’t talked to the bastard in ages, but he kind of apologized for being a bad parent. He wants me to see if the boys are interested in meeting with him.” I rub at my tired face and moan. “Vodka is never a good idea.”
“Wow. That’s huge, Kate. Do you think you’ll ask Connor and Allen?”
“Maybe. Turns out he’s fathered several other children, so I think it’s only fair if they know they have brothers and sisters.”
She huffs as I’m pouring myself a cup. “Guess it’s better than drunk-dialing Braden. Have you figured out what answer you’re going to give him on California?”
“I still want to go…but I have to make sure Allen can be at peace with it first.”
I pour the dark liquid into a cup, telling myself I won’t cry. Maybe I’ll have to postpone the trip for awhile. Wouldn’t hurt anyway. It’d give me time to pack and line things up here before I leave.
“Do you think you’d move out there for him?” Evelyn asks. There’s a little hitch to her voice, but I can’t tell if she’s saddened by the idea of my leaving, or she’s hurting.
Casually turning back around, I study her while blowing on my steaming drink. “You know, I think I might. Not just for Braden, but because I’m ready for a fresh start. Don’t get me wrong—it would royally suck being so far away from all you guys and everything, but there’s something about California that really speaks to me.”
Evelyn bites on her lip in a way that still makes it hard to decide the severity of the situation. She’s trying to put on a good show, but I can tell she’s still feeling a fair amount of pain. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Do you want me to call Charlie?”
“I’m fine, I swear. Have you told your mother about Braden?”
“No, but I suppose I should have a talk with her this afternoon.”
“You know she’ll support you, whatever you decide.”
Guilt-ridden, I hang my head. “Yeah, I know. I just wish it didn’t feel like I’m abandoning her.”
“How many times has she told you and Charlie that she doesn’t want you putting your life on hold because of her health? You were always there for Charlie
when your mom couldn’t be—she’ll probably agree you deserve some time to focus on what you want.”
She cries out suddenly, cradling her stomach like she was just zinged with a painful contraction. As much as I’ve tried to black out the whole nightmare involved in giving birth, there’s no forgetting the first true signs of labor. My stomach plummets when I try to remember how far she’s along at this point. What if something’s wrong?
“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll grab you a glass of water,” I suggest, zipping around the corner of the island to rub her back. “When’s the last time you had a contraction?”
“I don’t know…every couple of minutes, maybe?” she answers between clenched teeth. Then her eyes pop wide. “Why? You don’t think I’m having real contractions, do you? I’m only thirty-eight weeks!”
“Thirty-eight weeks isn’t a bad thing, sweetie. But it wouldn’t hurt to give your doctor a call. If you’re in a lot of pain, it may be time to get you to the hospital.”
Her breaths come out slow and heavy. “Number…on…the…fridge.”
While I’m grabbing their portable phone from the kitchen desk area, Evelyn lets out a strange little whimper behind me. “Oh my god, I think I may have either wet myself or my water just broke.”
I turn to her with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll get you to the hospital and we’ll call Charlie along the way. Everything will be just fine.”
Deep down, I’m freaking the hell out. We better make it to the hospital in time, because I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.
Somewhere between Brooklyn and Manhattan, shit gets real. Evelyn’s contractions become even more extreme, falling within mere minutes of each other. Turns out she had lost some blood while we were in the kitchen. It wasn’t enough to cause panic, but made me wonder if it was that “bloody show” they say mothers often have before going into labor.
The doctor’s office said her OBGYN would be waiting for us, and told me I should do my best to prevent her from pushing. Between grabbing the bag Evelyn packed for the hospital and slipping into a pair of her leggings paired with a sweatshirt, I called Charlie. The way he freaked I thought he was going to give himself a heart attack, so I arranged for his manager to give him a ride to the hospital.
I’m admittedly close to hyperventilating myself when I try texting Braden with a general message saying that I’d really like to talk to him when he has time. Several minutes pass without a response, and my throat thickens with tears. I need you, Brae. Please don’t give up on me.
Evelyn sits with her head resting against the back of the passenger’s seat, breathing the way they taught her in Lamaze classes among labored moans. I smooth her hair away from her sweaty face and assure her everything will be okay even though I’m pretty sure she’s way closer than we thought and we’re fucked.
The painfully young, male cab driver keeps throwing her annoyed looks through the rearview mirror whenever she lets out a cry.
“What do you keep looking at? She’s in labor!” I snap, all at once resenting those judging dark eyes. “You obviously haven’t been in her shoes before, and that shit hurts! Keep your eyes on the road, buddy!”
“I can feel the baby coming, Kate,” Evelyn whimpers, turning to look at me.
Oh shit. “Hold on, Ev. The doctor’s office told you not to push until you get there.”
“But I can feel her head spreading me.”
The cabbie repeatedly glances over his shoulder, my panic reflected in his expression. “Holy shit. Want me to pull over?”
“Are you kidding?” I bark at him. “Unless you want her to have this baby in your back seat, you might want to try to get us to the hospital a little faster!”
Evelyn’s hand clamps over my wrist with surprising strength. “Kate. I have to push. She’s coming. Now.”
I swallow down a surprised cry. Why couldn’t the doctor’s office have told me what could happen if she did push? Aside from having a baby in the back of a germ-ridden cab that smells like feet, what’s the worst that could happen? My stomach churns with the possibilities.
There’s no time to reply before she’s lifting her hips off the seat and hiking her dress up amidst a strangled cry. I release her seatbelt and allow her to squeeze my hand as she bares down, crying out between clenched teeth.
Reaching over her lap, I pull her underwear down, yelping when I discover the top of the baby’s head. “Oh my god, Ev! She’s really here!”
“No shit!” she shouts back.
With one last push, my niece slips out into my arms, just like that. Even though she’s covered in blood and slime, skin a purplish tone, she’s the most beautiful baby in the world. I burst into tears with the sight of her.
“Is she okay?” Evelyn cries along with me. “Is she breathing?”
The baby lets out a wail, and we both laugh joyously.
“Hi, there, sweet baby girl,” I say, lifting the goop-covered infant into her mother’s arms. “We weren’t expecting you this early.”
“Oh my god, Kate! She’s so beautiful!”
“She most definitely is.” I bend in to kiss my sister-in-law’s slick head. “Congratulations, momma. You did great.”
Watching the mother and child bond, I’m struck with an emotional tsunami that has me quietly crying along with Evelyn for the remainder of the ride.
There’s no doubt about it, I want another baby. Braden’s baby.
Once I’ve tipped the cab driver generously for cleaning services and for scarring him for life, I hand Evelyn and the baby off to hospital staff and my blubbering wreck of a brother who almost falls to his knees with the first glance of his daughter. As soon as I’m certain they’re well taken care of, I catch an Uber back home. Along the way I start the long task of contacting my mom and each of the Kendall siblings to let them know Evelyn and baby are just fine.
I call Sharlo second-to-last to tell her she’s an auntie, knowing our conversation will probably take up the most time. Nearly a full minute passes as she cries, shooting off a string of incoherent questions before I can get another word in.
“The nurse that met us at the curb was pretty confident that they’ll both be fine,” I tell her. “She said they had to run the usual tests, but the baby seemed perfectly healthy and Evelyn was all smiles. You would’ve been proud of our girl, Shar. She handled giving birth in a taxi like a champ.”
“I’m at this bloody brunch…in a room filled with bloody guests,” she stammers in a weepy voice. “How can I possibly sneak away?”
“You can’t,” I say firmly. “Enjoy your morning with James. Ev and the baby are in good hands. They wanted to keep them overnight for observations. You can visit them this afternoon before you leave for your honeymoon.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She pauses to pull in a slow breath. “Love, have you seen any sign of Braden this morning? Nolan was set to give him a ride here, but he had already checked out of his hotel room, and he hasn’t made an appearance for brunch.”
Disappointment ripples through me, followed by a paralyzing bout of panic. What if he changed his mind and left? What if he flew back to California, and that’s why he didn’t text me back? How bad did I fuck up by pushing him away?
“I haven’t heard from him since he left the reception last night,” I admit sadly. “No one else has heard from him?”
“I’m sure he’s on his way” she says, her voice soothing. “The party’s only just begun.”
“I’m going to be late, too. I’m heading home first to shower and change.”
After we say our goodbyes, I check to see if maybe I missed a message from Braden. Since my last text still goes unanswered, I decide to give him a call. Yet another round of tears make their way down my cheeks when I realize how badly I want to be with him, but may have missed my chance.
“You’ve reached the one and only Braden Kendall,” his voicemail immediately answers. “You know what to do, so do it already.”
I’m
laughing when I reply, “Hey, you cocky little shithead. I’m calling because no one seems to know where you are this morning, and I wanted to make sure you’re alright. If you haven’t heard, you’re an uncle again. Your sister and I were in the cab when it happened. She gave birth in the back of the fucking cab.” When the Uber lady’s eyes pop wide back at me through the mirror, I laugh a little harder. “Trust me, the experience was every bit as freaky as you’d expect. But overall it made me realize a few important things.”
Pausing, I sniffle while pointing out to the driver where to pull in by my apartment. Then, as I decide what to say next, I drop my head and break out sobbing. “I love you, Brae! I wasn’t sure that’s what I was feeling for you because last time I felt that way about someone he knocked me up twice and took off, so I was starting to question what the hell love actually feels like, but now I understand, and dammit, I love the shit out of you, you cocky bastard! I’m sorry you’re hearing this for the first time over the stupid phone but I want you to know how I feel before it’s too late and you leave for California without me! I’m sorry I’ve jerked you around this long and made you wait around for me to get my shit together but I really, truly love you and don’t want to spend another day without you, so please don’t give up on me! You were so right, we’re good together, and I don’t want to miss out on whatever future we may have together! And I do want your baby! I want a mini little Braden with your charm, and beauty, and strength, and kindness, and even all the things you do that drive me insane! If you’re already on your way back home, please call me when you get there and I’ll grab the next flight out! I can’t stand the thought of losing you!”
“Um…Katie?” The driver turns in her seat, fighting back a smile as she points out the windshield of her Jetta. “Is that someone you know?”
I follow the direction of her finger, and my heart rockets into my throat.
Braden stands outside my apartment complex with a bouquet of red roses held in one hand, suitcase and garment bag sitting by his feet, other hand stuffed in his pocket. He’s watching me with a dimpled grin lighting his masculine features, coy “I wanna fuck you” look twinkling in his eyes. It’s like my very own Sixteen Candles moment—which just so happened to be my favorite movie as a teen—only better because there isn’t any of that teenage angst bullshit between us, and I’m already well aware he can fuck like a porn star. In tight blue jeans, black leather jacket over a checked dress shirt, short hair messy like he didn’t get much sleep, he’s easily the most beautiful man on the planet.