There was a familiar glint in Francis’ eyes. One they all knew well.
“Mom. No. Seriously, no,” Tori commanded.
“First of all, I am your mother, and you will not be ordering me around like that. Secondly, I do not have the foggiest idea what you are talking about.” Francis was not as talented at hiding her intentions as she thought.
“Oh please, everyone in this room knows exactly what is going through that head of yours. Hell, anyone who has ever spent five minutes with you knows,” Erika argued.
It was obvious Francis was ready to adopt another adult into the family. Why she even bothered to deny it was something Gus didn’t understand.
Francis waved everyone off, “Pish posh. I’m not thinking of anything at all except meeting my newest grandchild.” Francis appeared next to January and instructed Gus to breathe through the contraction.
“Oh really, is that so? Well, let’s just see, shall we,” Stacy challenged as she threw open the door dividing their private waiting area from the labor and birthing room. It really was a great set up; Andy spared no expense. Gus’ room had two couches, an arrangement of chairs, a birthing pool, balls, stools, white noise machines, you name it. If a woman needed it for birthing, it was there. The waiting room was just as plush—plenty of room for a big family to stay the same duration as the mother, quite comfortably.
“Hey fellas, update.” Gus watched familiar faces and bodies appear in the doorway. “Gus had her feel-good shot to her back a while ago, so her pain is as good as it can be. Last time doc was around, she was dilated wide enough to drive a tank through, so it shouldn’t be long now. However, she thinks she’s in love with her anesthesiologist. You should have seen her, tattoos up to her neck, even one on her eyebrow. She looked like she had seen some shit in her life time. Raised by her grandmother, but she said it kinda sad, like she was gone now, even has a tattoo to honor her. Seemed like a good soul, just a little lost.” The door stayed open even as Stacy turned and glared knowingly toward Francis, arms crossed.
It was Frank’s booming voice that Gus heard laughing before he inquired, “Yeah, and what is our newest daughter’s name?”
It was obvious Francis knew the jig was up but refused to bow. “Show some respect, all of you. Oh, just hush.” Francis said something else, but as Dax and Walker shifted out of the doorway, Gus didn’t hear anything but the beeping of monitors and the beat of her heart. Even the pain seemed to completely float away when she looked across the room into the eyes of the man who had given her so much pleasure less than twenty-four hours ago.
He was here. John was here, and while he had some uncertainty swimming across his face, there wasn’t a profound sense of grief. Not like when he spoke earlier about Gus giving birth and about the child he loved.
Gus heard Stacy squeal and then her view of John was blocked when his sister hugged him tight. They spoke to each other. Gus assumed she was asking what happened. After they shared a moment, he took a few hesitant steps. As he got closer, Gus could see cuts and bruises marring his face and arms.
Her hand extended toward the door of its own volition. John took a few more tentative steps before looking toward Marco and Andy, who both dipped their heads in agreement—not before Gus saw the joy on both of their faces. Those rats, those beautiful, beautiful rats. They somehow got the message to him, even though she initially said no. She guessed she could forgive them since John didn’t look to be in agony over being there; instead, he looked…relieved.
Relieved, but beat up and tired, awfully tired. There were a few bruises blooming on his face as well as cuts and scrapes. He had a bandage at his temple with dried blood on it. Even with all that, he still looked happy to be there.
Gus didn’t know how she was going to make it through without knowing he was safe. Now she didn’t have to worry about that.
The next minute, he was there with her hand encompassed in both of his. Forehead to forehead, he whispered words of love. He offered no explanation, just words she had longed to hear, words that would get her through…
“Oh, my God!” The worst pain in my life. Gus shouted and people came running in all directions. She let go of John, and he melted back into the waiting room door.
Banging and clanging and voices and pain…unimaginable pain. “Are you ready to start pushing, Miss Thorne, because this baby is ready to make an appearance.” That was the doctor’s voice, she was sure of it because the next thing she felt, besides blinding pain, were her lady bits in the breeze.
“Oooooo,” Stacy exclaimed excitedly, clapping like a school girl. “It’s show time.” Then she stage-whispered, “Damn, hooker, you could’ve churched it up a little down south. Maybe splashed a little glitter on it, or at least gave it a little trim.”
“Fuck you, tramp. Bite me.” Gus didn’t have a chance to analyze her use of the F-word or how Stacy was no longer her BFF, because Butterbean was ripping her apart.
Seeing Augusta reach for him was like glimpsing Heaven. He never would’ve expected it in a million years. He also never realized how much he craved it, needed it. The unschooled look on her face the moment she saw him was pure joy at his presence. John couldn’t remember if anyone had ever gifted him that look before.
It lasted just a second or two, but it would linger in his heart for an eternity. It said so much, two hazel eyes twinkling with love and pride and emotions he couldn’t begin to examine. He did know each one was precious and important.
He sat silently in the waiting room. He was grateful that all his brothers and pseudo-father brought the ambient noise to a dull roar. The television was on ESPN, so the voices of the sports announcers helped, too. “Thank the Lord for sound-proofing,” he mumbled to himself.
The squeal of Augusta’s pain earlier damn near broke him. But before he had the chance to turn into an emotional wreck, he was ushered from the room, along with the other men, and the door was closed.
There was a bit of guilt for not being in there, but their relationship, the intimate part, anyway, had just begun. He couldn’t expect to be invited, nor did he think he wanted to be. However, sitting here and not being able to help was hard, too.
For a moment, he thought about being in the hall while Deborah gave birth to a child she had just hours before informed him wasn’t his. But he shook it off. He refused to let the past rule him any longer. Augusta was not his ex, the baby was never his, but would be in his life, and when Augusta left the hospital, they would be together. So absolutely nothing was the same as before.
The men had already made him tell his tale three times, and he was sick of talking about his bad landing. They teased a little but mostly were just happy he was okay and here.
“You all right, son? And I don’t mean your scrape up with the plane,” Frank startled him by asking. John was so deep in thought, he hadn’t realized Frank had taken the seat next to him until he spoke.
Frank had a flattering way of looking at it. Scrape up, my ass. “Yeah. Just a lot of in my own head stuff to sort through.”
“Yep. I can understand that. I saw the look you and our Gus shared.” Frank looked around conspiratorially. “Don’t mention it to the Missus, but I owe her another dang bag and matching shoes. I need to learn to stop taking her blasted fool’s bets.”
John knew about the rest of the family and their betting pools, but to his knowledge, Frank and Francis didn’t get involved in those. Sure, they knew, but he didn’t think they put money down. Did that mean they were in on the pool for when he and Augusta would get together?
“Hey Walker, I hear y’all been betting on my love life?” John tried to sound angry, but he couldn’t quite muster it.
“As if you have to ask? Wait, that…in there…you already fucked her? Woohoo, I think I had this week.”
Frank chided his son. “Don’t be vulgar, son, that’s your family you’re talking about, and you’ll never be too old for me to whoop you.” Walker looked properly browbeaten and lowered his head.
&
nbsp; Until Michael pulled up something on his phone. “Damn it, look at that Dubya, you pulled a double. You had this week for her to pop out the rugrat, too. Drinks are on you for the next month.”
Frank just shook his head. If he wasn’t talking about that pool, what was he talking about? “If Walker won the pool, why do you have to buy Francis anything?”
“If you have to ask, you haven’t been paying attention. Walker and Erika happened before you came along, but Francis bet me they’d be together.”
At John’s unimpressed look, Frank continued, “Did I mention that was when Tori first brought her to a picnic? Years before they even knew they’d be together.”
Now, that was impressive, but not shocking.
“Anyway,” Frank was starting to gossip like a church lady. John felt that just this once, Frank was talking more for his own benefit than that of someone else. He was nervous about the birth too, he just covered it well. Frank had done so much for all of them, he would be damned if he’d deny him the distraction. So, John leaned in with interest.
“She bet me that day, yep, that very day. Oh, and did I mention that it was my Francis who encouraged Tori to run off to Tennessee with that no-good piece of offal she was dating? No one could see her genius, not even me.”
Frank stopped talking for a moment and turned his head toward the door as if he could hear something. But no sounds were coming. Maybe it was wishful thinking.
“Yep, it was her. I asked her what in the name of Sam Hill she was thinking. Send her off with that…anyway, you know what she told me? She said she just had a gut feeling that Torionna needed to be there. Well,” Frank turned his affectionate gaze toward his son-in-law, “you know where that led.”
An aged hand rested on his, and he looked up into Frank’s eyes—really looked at him for the first time and realized that while everyone thought this family was stitched together through Francis, Frank seemed to need it as much as she did. And everyone thinks you indulge her.
“Then there’s you and your sister. It was my little lady that finally cleared the path for that big man over there to cherish your sister the way she deserves. And that brings us to you.” Frank patted his hand. “You, you were tougher. She laid awake at night worrying over you.”
That little nugget of information shook John to his core. After his parents died, he had always been the worrier. This was a new position for him. Not that he enjoyed her sleepless night, but he rather did enjoy the fact that another person worried about him.
“But, she won’t have to worry about you anymore, now will she?” John was left more than a little confused when Frank said nothing more and instead went to pour himself a cup of coffee.
My weakness.
Never one to resist the call of the bitter brew, no matter the position of the sun, John followed. He also wanted to question Frank a little more, keep him talking, for his sake. John laughed at himself. My sake, too. The subject was a welcomed distraction.
While staring into the dark liquid as it splashed into his cup, he realized he had just been gifted with a rare opportunity to razz Frank a little. Today was apparently a day of firsts.
“Just for your peace of mind, I won’t keep your wife up at nights anymore, scout’s honor.” Frank gave him a withering look.
“Don’t make me take you to the shed, because I will.” His voice was threaded with humor as he made his way back to the couch mumbling something about youngins and disrespect.
It had been years since John had been scolded and threatened with physical punishment in a parental way, and even longer since anyone called him a youngin.
“Sorry, I’m just messing with you. It was in poor taste, but you have to cut me a little slack, huh.”
Frank just harrumphed and sipped his coffee. While his face was properly scowled, his eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I’ve been an honorary member of this family for over a year now, and that was the very first time you have ever just left yourself open like that. Can you blame me for walking right in?”
He earned another harrumph for that. He sat back down, and he studied the older man next to him silently. Frank was dying to finish the story of why he owed Francis accessories but was too proud to continue without being asked, even if it was clear he craved the distraction.
John was more than happy to indulge him, and he was curious. “So, I suppose Francis knew Augusta and I were destined from the first day she met me?”
“No, actually.” John waited for Frank to elaborate, but he never did. Well, that was unexpected. John anticipated some amazing tale of Francis’ impeccable skills. On some level, that bothered him just a little.
Doubts he had put to bed started stirring. If Francis didn’t see it the way she did with everyone else, then maybe…No, stop it. You are looking to sabotage yourself because you’re feeling out of control.
But…he wasn’t. He wasn’t feeling trapped and out of control at all. He was feeling…content. He smiled when he realized questioning things was habit, not because he was looking for a way out.
“No?”
“Nope. When she first met you, she was worried you were too closed off to even be comfortable in our family, much less in a relationship. But she did say if anyone could break through that hard shell of yours, it would be our Gus. But the rub was, she knew, even before you and your sister came into our lives, that if Erika thought Gus should be with Dax, Gus wouldn’t date anyone else. Not that she wanted Dax, but she wanted Erika’s approval.”
Stories of Tori and Erika’s matchmaking attempts were well known, as was the tale of Augusta and Erika’s rocky start. John witnessed firsthand how Augusta shouldered guilt over everything from leaving her sister at home when she went to live her own life to being ashamed she found Walker attractive in his moments of recovery breakthrough. Both Walker and Augusta had explained it wasn’t a sexual attraction and nothing happened, but John could see Augusta bending over backwards to please people. It’s what she did.
Who she is.
Erika and Augusta were thick as thieves now, but even John remembered when that wasn’t the case, so he could understand Augusta’s reluctance to date anyone if she thought it would upset the apple cart.
“You going to finish your tale before you’re a grandpa again or what?” Now John was wholly invested in the story.
“Hmmm, well Francis set the girls to rights about things. She saw the way Dax looked at Stacy and the looks you and Gus exchanged, but she still wasn’t ready to put her money where her mouth was, no sir-ee. The day of the announcement, but before it happened, my Francis was down. She confided that even though she stopped the girls in their love schemes, she still didn’t think you would let anyone in. Well, after the announcement, she was convinced you wouldn’t.”
John was a little taken aback by Frank’s confession. How was it that obvious to everyone that he’d closed off his heart? Funny, because I didn’t even know I had done so, but Francis knew.
“Did she just give up on me that day?”
“No, son, she never gives up on anyone, she just doesn’t place bets until they are a sure thing.”
“Then what does she do when you take her to Vegas?”
“She shops.”
They shared a laugh—a genuine, heartfelt laugh.
“When did she bet on me?” John asked meekly. He couldn’t explain why it seemed important, he only knew that it was.
“The night you introduced her to her latest obsession, a fine single malt from Islay.” Frank sat down his coffee cup, patted his knee, and rose. He joined Dax and the others who appeared to be playing cards…and betting body modifications?
While John was trying to figure out if the bets were for mods that were desired or mods to be endured, the door between the rooms opened.
Marco stepped through followed by Andy, who was carrying a bundle of blankets and staring at it as if it contained the very moon and stars. And in a way, it did.
To a father…it did.
“IT’S A GIRL!” Marco shouted as soon as the door behind them closed. “A girl. Can you believe it? She has ten fingers and ten toes. A perfect little nose and head full of curly dark hair. She is prefect, just perfect.” Marco wrapped his arms around his husband and daughter. He was practically vibrating with love.
Andy finally drew his eyes away from his daughter and sought John’s gaze. There was something unspoken exchanged between them—part apology, part gratitude, all connection. As much as everyone in this family had done their level best to make him feel welcomed, feel accepted, it was this that had finally achieved that.
The new fathers were overjoyed, and it spilled over into the entire room. But it was the kinship John felt the most. His knees gave way when he tried to stand, and he ended up back on his ass on the couch. This sense of family had died with his parents. He had given up on ever feeling it again, but here he was, having his feet taken out from under him by it.
A moment of panic touched him. He was adapting to not being in total control and had even decided he could love others, including Augusta. Loving people didn’t automatically mean pain and loss. All those things had been hard for him to acknowledge and even harder to accept.
But am I enough?
As is?
John would never be playfully affectionate with everyone the way Michael was. He seemed to flirt with the very wind, so easily and naturally. It put people at ease, from wait staff to CEOs.
Dax was more of a quiet claimer. His demeanor said he had ownership of his entire family, and by extension, anyone they cared about. It was clear that if you messed with them, he would have no problem taking your head. It was also clear that Stacy or Macy could bring him to his knees with a look. They were his only weakness.
Walker, well, Walker was a tattoo-covered cupcake. Not in a bad way, just when he looked at the people he loved. For someone so physically intimidating, it was hard to imagine the term cupcake being used if someone didn’t know him. In his past, he had struggled with violence, so when he conquered it, he refused to succumb to it again. Of course, there was no doubt if his family were threatened, he would unleash the beast without a second thought.
Inevitably Yours (Imagine Ink Book 4) Page 17