by Emery Jacobs
In the beginning of my pregnancy, I felt like telling Beau, Miles, or my parents would have been too much. I didn’t want to cause myself any unnecessary stress, because I secretly wanted this baby so badly, and the thought of losing him or her made me physically ill. So, I decided to wait until I made it through my first trimester.
“I don’t know. Soon.” I turn on my side, now facing Ava. “I still have to address the stalking issue. That’s the main reason I’ve been staying away from him, because a part of me believes everything Jane said, but I need to hear the truth from him.”
I haven’t seen Beau or talked to him since he took me to Dallas to sell my car, and so much has happened since that day. I found out I’m pregnant, have had several families interested in buying my house, and traded in my Jeep for an SUV.
He finally stopped texting me two weeks ago after I told him to leave me alone. I couldn’t take it anymore. Every time he texted me, I cried, even if it was just a simple good morning or goodnight. If he texted saying he missed me, I had to force myself not to climb in my car and go to his shop. So, I did what I had to do in order to maintain my sanity. God, I miss him, and I feel terrible that I didn’t take Rhys to a movie like I said I would, but in order to do that, I’d have to see Beau, and I’m just not ready.
“Good morning, Emmie,” Dr. Richards says as she walks into the exam room. I quickly sit up and secure my gown with my hand.
“Good morning, Dr. Richards.” I smile.
Dr. Richards glances in Ava’s direction and nods in acknowledgment of her being here.
“How have you been feeling?” She sits down on a small chair in front of a computer and begins to type.
“Okay, I guess. I’m still sick a lot, nausea and vomiting almost every day. Some days are worse than others.”
“Are you drinking plenty of fluids?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She continues to type, glancing over at me every few seconds. “I’m worried that me being so sick isn’t normal, and you know, with my history….” My words fade.
“I’m not concerned about you still being sick. Every pregnancy is different. You’ve carried this baby past the first trimester, which is something you’ve never done in the past. The last time you were here, we didn’t spend much time together.” She types for a couple more seconds then stops and looks over at me. “I feel good about this pregnancy, Emmie. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, so I’d like for you to do your best to stay calm and remember that not everything that happens means there is something wrong or you’re going to miscarry. Once you get through your first trimester, the chances of a miscarriage drop substantially. So, please don’t worry. It isn’t good for you or the baby.” Her gaze meets mine and she smiles. “Now, before we get started, is Max on his way? I wanted to do an ultrasound this morning to get a look at how your baby is growing, and I’d really like for him to be here, too.”
An unwelcomed blush creeps into my cheeks. Humiliation, embarrassment, shame—all those feelings wash over me.
“No, Max won’t be joining us.” I glance at Ava and she motions for me to continue. “We’ve been divorced a little over a year.”
“Oh, I see. I hate to hear that, but sometimes divorce does happen, and most of the time it’s for the best.” She positions the ultrasound machine near me. “So, will your new husband be joining us today? I can wait a few minutes before we get started.”
God, this woman is freaking relentless with the damn husband bullshit.
“I’m not married to my baby’s father, and I am not sure if he’ll ever join us, so you can go ahead and get started.”
Ava reaches over and grabs my hand.
Dr. Richards acknowledges my not being married with a slight nod and then she grabs a bottle of gel from a small warmer and applies some to my stomach. “Is your bladder full?” she asks. I’ve been so wrapped up in worry since I walked in the door I completely forgot I have to pee—until now. Great.
“Yes.”
“Okay, good. Now lie all the way back.”
I maneuver myself on the table then lie down. She places the small wand on my belly. I pull in a breath and hold it, waiting, watching.
Dr. Richards moves it around, stopping and starting a couple times. “There’s the baby’s head,” she murmurs, and I blow out the breath I’ve been holding and look at the screen. My baby is real. I smile as a few tears roll down my cheeks. “I’m getting some measurements, and so far everything looks perfect.” She points to the largest area on the screen. “This is the head, and before you panic, it’s supposed to look a little bigger than the rest of the body at this stage.”
I nod my head, but I can’t take my eyes off the screen. I wipe the tears from my face and swallow hard. This is really happening. My baby is okay.
“Are you ready to hear your baby’s heartbeat?”
I glance at Ava, who grabs my hand and squeezes. “Yes, please.”
Dr. Richards moves the wand slightly. She hesitates for a beat and then moves it again. My emotions are everywhere, and my nerves are tangled up in a knot at the center of my chest. I close my eyes. Please let there be a heartbeat. Please let there be a heartbeat. Suddenly, all my fears wash away when I hear it. It’s so fast and sounds almost muffled. Ava lets out a soft squeal, and Dr. Richards laughs.
“I realize it may sound fast to you, but it’s perfectly normal.”
Tears quickly find their way down my cheeks again. I watch the screen and listen to my baby’s heartbeat until Dr. Richards removes the wand. She quickly wipes my stomach with a cloth and helps me sit up.
“You can go to the restroom now if you need to.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m okay.” I’ll just stop on the way out.
The doctor gives me three small pictures she printed from the ultrasound, and I use the hem of my gown to blot my tears before taking them. I can’t wait to show these to… I sigh. I want to show the pictures to Beau and my parents. I can’t believe I’ve kept this from them for so long.
“Your due date is May 21st. Keep taking your vitamins, and I’ll see you back here in three weeks.” Dr. Richards looks up at me from in front of the computer. “Everything looks great, Emmie. I just want to keep a close watch on you because of your history.”
“Thank you.” I slip on my shirt and yoga pants before grabbing my purse from the chair. I have so many emotions running through me right now that I don’t know how to feel.
Once outside, I climb into Ava’s SUV and secure my seat belt. I pull my phone out of my bag and shoot Beau a text.
Me: Hi.
“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Ava asks, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Yep. He has a right to know. I can’t keep this from him any longer.”
“So you’re telling him with a text?” Ava cocks her left eyebrow.
My phone vibrates.
Beau: Are you sure you’re texting the right person? I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.
“Dammit!” I mumble, looking over at Ava. “No, I’m not telling him via text message. I’m going to meet him somewhere, hopefully on Saturday.”
Me: Yes, I’m sure you’re the right person. I’m sorry about the other day. I’ve had a lot going on.
Beau: Me, too. Are you texting about Rhys?
“What’s he saying?” Ava questions.
“I’ll tell you later, just keep your eyes on the road.”
Me: About Rhys?
Beau: Yeah, dinner and a movie? Remember? He’s been asking me to call you for weeks.
“Shit.”
“What?” Ava glances over.
“Dammit, Ava, watch the road. I’ll tell you once we get back to the office.”
“You’re going back to work dressed like that?” She motions to my yoga pants and T-shirt.
Me: Not exactly, but I promise to take him. I wanted to know if you could stop by my house sometime on Saturday?
“Yes. I don’t have any clients, just nee
d to get caught up on paperwork.”
Beau: Yeah. How about 4 p.m.?
Me: Sounds good. See you then.
We pull into the office parking lot and roll to a stop. I search the area for Jane’s car, and luckily, it’s not here; at least I don’t have to deal with her today. She is still giving me grief about Beau, and today I’m just happy my baby is healthy, so I’m not letting anybody take away my sunshine.
25
Emmie
The doorbell chimes once, twice, and on the third time, I pull in a deep breath, close my eyes, and grip the doorknob. I can do this. My eyes pop open right before I pull the door open. Beau. I bite my lip nervously as I watch this strong, beautiful man stare into my eyes, questioning my motives.
“Emmie.” His lip twitches slightly, but his gaze never leaves mine.
I smile, stepping to the side so he can walk through. “Please, come in.”
I close the door behind us, turning to find him waiting on me in the foyer.
“Is everything okay?” The first complete sentence out of his mouth makes me want to scream as loud as my lungs will allow, because everything is not okay.
“Let’s sit.” I nod toward the couch and he follows.
My nerves are shot to hell and I have a huge lump in my throat, making it almost impossible to swallow.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask. Either I’m trying to be polite or I’m trying to buy time; I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.
He shakes his head, and then reaches for my hand. His touch is tender and sweet. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers in a deep, husky voice before leaning over and kissing my lips slowly. Then he pulls away as his mouth brushes my earlobe gently and he says softly, “So damn much.”
God, I think I’m going to fold. He can’t touch me like this, at least not right now. I have to know the truth, and I have to tell him about the baby before anything else can happen between us.
I pull away, staring into Beau’s silver eyes. I swear the look he’s giving me right now says everything. He’s the one. The only one who can fix everything. Make my heart beat again the way it did before Max destroyed it.
“I need to talk to you.” My voice is soft and shaky.
“Okay.” His gaze holds steady on mine.
“I’m about to ask you a really important question, and I’m begging you to please tell the truth.”
His brow furrows as he sits in front of me, waiting for what’s about to come.
“Have you been following me?”
Beau looks away for a few moments before his eyes shift back to me again.
“There’s a lot more to it than me following you around.” He shifts his weight and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. I can no longer see his eyes, only his profile. My body wants to be near him, to touch him, to hold him. Beau isn’t blessed with the gift of gab, so him finding the right words to say will be difficult, but it’s something he has to do—for me, for him, for us.
“Tell me, Beau. Please tell me what’s going on. Why have you been following me?”
“I’m not following you anymore.” He covers his face with his hands and sucks in an audible breath.
“Why did you follow me at all? Please help me to understand what’s going on.”
He pushes up from the couch and paces my living room. “Who told you? Was it Miles or Jane?”
My brother knew? My stomach clenches as a wave of nausea washes over me. I will not vomit. I can’t.
“Wait a minute, Miles?” I stand and walk up behind him. My fingers itch to touch him, so I give in and wrap my arms around his waist. My body folds into his, and I know this is where I’m supposed to be, with him.
“Yeah, Emmie. It’s a long story, but I did follow you for about six weeks. I wanted to tell you but was too afraid.” He wraps his big hands around my small ones. “I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me and would never want to see me again. I’m a fucking coward, but I’m here now, admitting everything.”
“I don’t think I’ve given you much choice but to admit to everything. How could you stalk me and then make me fall for you?”
Beau turns to face me, his eyes full of darkness. “When everything first started, I took the job for me, because I needed to save my shop.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“Your brother, Miles, came in one day with a flat on his Mercedes. While he was there, he figured out that my business was struggling—going under, to be exact—so he offered to help me if I’d keep an eye on you and report back to him. He said you were recently divorced and he was worried about you dating again.” Beau glances toward the door then drops his head downward for a few seconds before cupping my face in his large hands.
Mixed feelings surge through me as I continue to listen to his line of bullshit. Frankly, I’m having a hard time believing any of this.
I grab his hands and pull them from my face; I can’t think straight with him touching me. “First, my brother doesn’t drive a Mercedes, never has. He drives an Infiniti. Second, Miles is overprotective, but would never hire someone—”
“Wait a minute, no money ever exchanged hands. He never paid me a dime. He set up my website, sent some girl named Abby to help with the lobby, and developed my social media sites. I never took a dime from him.”
“It doesn’t matter, because I don’t believe my brother was involved. It’s just not his style. Now, I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth.” I squeeze my eyes closed, silently praying Beau is the man I think he is and will confess to everything, because I need him to be honest with me—so damn bad.
“I’m not lying. I’ll go with you to your brother’s house and confront him myself. You mean that much to me.”
“But I thought you said no relationships.”
“I did, but I’ve been fucking miserable without you. Even though we haven’t seen each other much over the last few weeks, I miss what little bit of time we had together. It was something, and I miss it. I miss you.”
“I can’t do this, Beau, not if you’re going to lie about something so serious.” I turn away from him as my eyes fill with tears of sadness.
“Emmie, please let me explain. Just hear me out. I need you to believe me.” He gently clutches my arm in his grip and spins me around to face him. “Shit! Don’t cry.” He wipes the tears from my cheeks. “We’ll figure this out. I promise you’ll see the truth. Just give me some time.”
“I don’t have a lot of time, Beau. I need to know the truth now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I swallow hard, trying not to choke on my tears.
“It means… I’m pregnant.”
He shakes his head and glares into my eyes. “What did you just say?”
“I’m pregnant, Beau.”
He drops his head and then shoves his hands in his pockets. He lets out a long sigh, turns away from me, and walks out my front door.
26
Beau
Eleven years earlier
“I’m here,” I call out as I rush into Sara’s delivery room. “Sorry I’m late; the traffic was horrible.” Sara’s brown eyes are full of fear, so I move quickly to my wife, grab her hand, and hold it tight.
“I’m scared, Beau. I mean, really scared,” Sara says as she squeezes my hand a little harder.
“I know, baby, but I promise you’ll be fine, and when we leave here, we will have Rhys. We’ll be a family, and the next time won’t be as bad.” I wink.
“You’re already planning a next time, huh?” She smiles. The fear in her eyes has vanished, replaced by a sparkle I hope is happiness, because as I look around this delivery room, all I see is happiness—so much fucking happiness. She leans over and kisses my hand. “I love you, Beau.”
“I love you, too, Sara.”
The doctor slides between her legs and glances at me before she does her check on my wife. “You ready for this, Dad?”
Pride swells in my ches
t just knowing this baby will be a part of me and the only girl I’ve ever loved.
I nod and then glance down at my wife. She has a strained look on her face. “I need to push,” she hollers.
“Just a second,” the doctor tells her.
Sara makes a panting noise as she lets out short, quick breaths.
I lean in toward her and whisper, “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re doing great.”
The nurse stands next to the doctor and instructs Sara to push. Her face becomes strained and small beads of sweat form on her forehead. The straining and pushing stop for a second or two until the doctor tells her to start the cycle again. After about four or five more pushes, the baby is out.
“Holy shit!” I mumble as I look at my son from where I’m standing.
“Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay,” Sara pleads.
A loud cry erupts and everyone breathes a sigh of relief.
“He’s better than okay, Sara. He’s fucking perfect.” My voice is tight. I’m holding back tears of my own, and when I glance down at my wife, she’s crying. “Don’t cry, babe. He’s beautiful.”
“I’m not crying because I’m sad; it’s because I’m so happy.”
“Dad, your son.” The nurse wraps Rhys in a blanket before passing him over to me. I stare at his tiny face in awe.
“He’s perfect, babe.” I bend over and place my son in his mother’s arms.
She strokes his cheeks and then kisses his forehead.
“You’re right, he is perfect. I love you, baby Rhys.”
I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt so much love. This is my family, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to show them love, keep them safe, and be the best provider I can be.
“Take him, Beau,” Sara says, her voice laced with panic.