by Harper Sloan
She stomps over to Asher and Chelcie, gives them a hug, and apologizes for ruining their night—to which, of course, they assure her that she didn’t. The whole time she’s talking to them, Asher is throwing silent daggers at me with his eyes.
I’m left there, my jaw slack, and a million doubts running through my mind. And for the first time in too many years, that small flame of hope starts to flicker.
EPILOGUE
Chelcie
Ugh. I feel terrible. My back has been killing me all day. Of course it doesn’t help that I went crazy pregnant woman and cleaned every inch of the house I could reach yesterday.
My due date has come . . . and gone. I’m so beyond ready to meet our baby that my anxiety is making me crazy. Asher is just as bad. He’s been calling me every hour, on the hour, for the last three days. Ever since I passed my due date, it would seem that I transferred over my basket-case persona to him.
And it is driving me nuts.
So here I am on this perfectly sunny day, surprising my husband with lunch at work. He hasn’t been terribly busy lately, just going in for a few hours a day. With him and Maddox working the computers and technical team at Corps Security, they’ve been able to ease the workload considerably.
I pull myself out of my brand-new Audi, a wedding present from Asher, and hike up my pants in a move that I’m sure is sexy as hell. I pull at the edges of my shirt to make sure it’s covering my stomach before I reach in the car and grab the bag of lunch I picked up from Asher’s favorite Mexican restaurant. The smell of it has almost caused me to wreck the damn car a few times on the way over.
After making sure I have everything, I waddle over to the sidewalk, my flip-flops slapping loudly against the pavement. Seeing Sway in the window has me lifting my arm and waving wildly. The second I go to put my arm down, I feel this tremendous pain in my stomach. Sway cocks his head at me, clearly puzzled with my actions. I look down from his eyes and try to figure out what just happened.
Sway bursts through the door to his salon about the same time that I realize that my water just broke. Of all places to have my water break, it’s the damn golden sidewalk. I love this sidewalk. Now all I’m going to think about is my pregnancy water leaking out of my vagina.
“Sway! My vagina broke the happiness!” I cry when he runs over. He grabs the food and my purse before helping me walk the few steps left to take me inside Corps Security. “Sway!” I pant. “Are you listening to me? My vagina broke it!”
Of course that would be the moment that we step through the door to CS. And of course the lobby wouldn’t be empty.
“Hey, baby,” I gasp. I grab my tight stomach when new wave of pain washes over me. Holy shit, this hurts.
“Sunshine? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay! I brought you Mexican and my vagina broke the happiness! Do I look okay?” I have to take a huge gulp of air when I feel another sharp pain rock through my stomach. “They aren’t supposed to be coming this fast, baby,” I whine.
His eyes widen when the meaning behind my words becomes clear. He smiles for a second before I whimper when my stomach starts to tighten again.
“Davey, sugar pie, I think you need to get those sexy fingers of yours dancing over to the phone. It’s looks like there’s a baby on the way.”
That snaps Asher into motion. He tosses the file he was looking at over to Davey, rushing over to my side and helping Sway move me deeper into the lobby. We are just about the pass the reception desk when I let out a brutal scream and my body goes limp.
“Let’s lay her down here, all right, darling?” Sway asks, calm as can be.
I look into Asher’s eyes and see the fear leering behind his excitement. I try to reassure him that I’m okay—that this is normal—but when I open my mouth, the only thing that comes out is a scream.
“Dil, baby,” Davey calls from where he is standing, talking to what I assume is the 911 operator.
“Go ahead, doll. You just tell me what I need to do,” Sway calls over his shoulder.
I can hear Davey responding to him, but I’m lost to the pain that is ripping though my body. I keep my eyes glued to Asher’s. He strokes my face, kissing my hand when it clamps down on his own, and between the contractions that are killing me, he presses his forehead against mine and whispers how much he loves me.
I feel movement and then cold air hits my legs. I keep my eyes on Ash, my breathing controlled and my hand clamped in his. When I feel someone take my other hand in theirs, I break my connection to Asher and look over at Maddox’s grim face. He gives me a weak smile and a small squeeze. I feel another contraction starting, so I whip my head back to Asher and grunt through the pain.
“Don’t you dare look any lower than her face,” Asher warns Maddox.
I would laugh if I didn’t feel like I was being sawed in half.
I vaguely feel my panties being removed and my eyes widen in shock.
“It’s okay, Sunshine. Let Sway do what they tell him to. We need to check and see if you’re crowning. Jesus, I can’t believe this is happening here.” His eyes show his vulnerability in the moment, and I don’t have time to analyze his words because just on the heels of the last one, another powerful pain takes my abdomen prisoner. I scream when it becomes too much.
“Uh, Asher.”
He looks down when Sway calls his name and his eyes widen so large that I briefly wonder if they will pop out.
He looks back at me, his eyes showing his worry. “You need to push now. I’m right here and everything is going to be okay. I promise you that.”
I gulp and take a deep breath, remembering from the classes we took what I should be doing.
It takes more effort than I ever thought was possible. I scream, curse, and beg. It takes ten long minutes, my body starting to take the toll of the effort I’m using to push our son out. To give him life.
I just finish another push that makes me feel like my head is about to blow off my body. The pain felt different—more intense—than what had been seizing my insides. I give another push, my energy starting to drain quickly.
“No more! Stop! Oh, God!”
I stop immediately when Sway screams over my groaning. My body is demanding that I push, but I hold back, praying that this will be over soon. Asher’s face has a look of complete euphoria. He’s looking down past my stomach. The tears that are falling from his eyes in rapid succession make me fear that something could be wrong.
“Chelcie, give me one more small push.”
I bear down and do as Sway says. The emptiness that follows terrifies me for a second.
And then I hear it.
The most powerful lungs I’ve ever heard pierce through the room.
Asher leans down, his forehead once again hitting mine. Our tears dance together. I hear the EMT rush into the room, but I don’t move. They call out orders, and Asher leans up. I look down and see Sway still kneeling between my spread legs. He’s holding a small bundle wrapped in what I recognize as Asher’s shirt. He hands him over to the man waiting to make sure he’s okay and looks up to meet my eyes. I’ve never seen Sway this overcome with emotion. His tears are falling just as fast as ours are.
“He’s beautiful,” he croaks.
He moves out of the way and lets the professionals do their jobs. It takes a few minutes before I watch as one of the men walk around and hand the small bundle—now wrapped in a clean blanket—to Asher. He lets out a breath, tracing our son’s round cheek with his finger.
I silently soak up this moment between father and son. My body heaves with the effort to keep my sobs in.
I observe in awe as Asher brings our tiny son’s face close and gently lowers his forehead to Zac’s. “I’ll love him so much, little brother,” he whispers. I watch through my clouded tears as Asher gives Zac a kiss on the top of his head, looks over to the far wall, and smiles sadly before he leans down and hands me our son.
When I look at his tiny face for the first time, I feel a love so p
owerful that it’s like my heart just jump-started to full throttle.
“He’s perfect,” I gasp.
His fuzzy head of hair, plump, tiny lips and round cheeks—all features that mirror his father. He looks just like Coop, and I can’t help but smile at the thought.
“Full circle, brother.”
I forgot that Maddox is there until he spoke.
It takes me a second to understand, but then I remember Asher’s earlier comment. I lean forward slightly and peer over Maddox’s shoulder to see the portrait of Coop hanging proudly.
His smiling face looks down on us, showering us with the happiness he always carried.
And that’s when it hits me—the enormity of what Maddox just spoke. We lost Coop in this very spot not even a year ago, and here we are now—Coop’s son being born right where he was lost to us forever.
“Full circle,” I murmur, stroking Zac’s cheek.
* * *
Later that night, with the room full of our family, we finally tell them Zac’s full name. There isn’t a single person who isn’t crying after that. I just know that, when Zac grows up, he will be a man strong enough to carry his name.
Zachariah Asher Cooper.
Our perfect son. And the proof that there really is a higher power at play. There is no doubt in my mind that Coop was with us today. That he watched over as his son was born and his brother became a father.
Life coming full circle.
The End
BONUS SCENE- YOGA TIME
“Jesus Christ . . . I look humongous in everything,” I mutter, throwing another pair of my jeans over my shoulder.
I’ve been standing in the middle of my bedroom for the last twenty minutes, trying to decide what I would wear tonight for girls’ night out. It’s been five months since Zac was born, and even though I’m back to my pre-pregnancy size, I still feel like everything looks too tight on me.
“Sunshine, you want to tell me why it looks like every piece of clothing you own is now all over the room?” Asher laughs from the doorway.
Turning my head sharply, I give him the meanest look I can, which quickly dies when I see him holding our son. I never thought he could get more attractive, but with him holding our sleeping son to his chest, he tops the scale of hot.
Asher Cooper is a man who could melt your panties clear off your body on a normal day. He’s six foot four with a body that isn’t too bulky but just the right amount of muscles to make him look like a god. His dark blond hair has grown even more over the last few months, and I love how it constantly falls over his forehead. The ends curl at his neck in that slightly overgrown, sexy way. Fully clothed, he would have me begging for him to take me, but when he’s walking around the house in just a pair of sweats—hanging low on his hips—and nothing else? Yeah . . . I pretty much melt into a puddle of desire.
“Swallow your tongue, babe?” he laughs.
I stick my tongue out and decide that ignoring him is a better route here. He laughs again, and I hear him leave the doorway. Turning my attention back at the few clothes I have left to try on, I huff a breath and pick up the closest pair of pants.
By the time Asher comes back to the bedroom, I have thrown two more pairs of jeans, a pair of capris, and a pair of black pants over my shoulder. I am in the middle of pulling the pair of yoga pants up my legs when I hear him walk back into the bedroom. He pauses in his tracks, and I hear his groan. Smiling to myself at the view I must be giving him, I start to pull the pants past my knees slowly. One thing about Asher—he will never complain about the extra curves I’ve developed from having Zac. I might have lost all the weight, but now my hips flare out more and my thighs are a little fuller. Then of course there are my breasts, which decided to stay two sizes bigger since I’m still breastfeeding Zac.
Right when I’m about to pull the waistband of my yoga pants over the curve of my ass, I feel Asher close the distance between us. He bats my hands away and gives my ass a caress before he swats me lightly.
“Damn, Chelcie. I swear you’re trying to kill me right now.”
“I’m just getting dressed, Ash,” I laugh.
“Uh, no. You are definitely not just getting dressed. You’re wearing those pants you had on last week and I told you if I saw you wearing these again I would show you just what they do to me.”
“You’re crazy! These things make me look huge!” I swat his hands and move to walk away.
I should have expected it, but I was more focused on getting to the closet and slipping a shirt over my sports bra. No way I was doing my daily yoga without a shirt since Asher is home today.
“Sunshine, get back here,” he growls.
“No, thank you, honey. I’m off to the basement to work out. No time to chat. No time at all!”
“I’m not joking, Chelcie.”
“Only an hour tops until Zac is ready for lunch. We can chat later.”
“You have three seconds to get that fine ass over here before I come get you,” he threatens.
Shit. I know what that means. I swear he can see right through me.
Turning around slowly, I straighten my back and take a deep breath of strength. We have had this argument almost weekly since I had Zac.
“Yes, my lovely husband? What can I do for you this fine afternoon?” I smart.
“Don’t give me that shit, babe. I see what you’re doing. You’re in here beating yourself up again. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re beautiful? Those curves you hate so much are curves you got while our boy grew in your body. I fucking love those curves.”
I sigh. “I know, Ash. You tell me that all the time, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to see this body how you do.”
“Yeah? Well tell me just how do you see that body?” His voice has a harsh edge to it now, and if I were wise, I probably would pay more attention to it, but since I’m in the middle of body-image meltdown, I don’t even pay it an ounce of attention.
“Okay, we can play this game. When I look in the mirror now, I see every little pinch of extra skin. I see my tits that don’t sit firm and full—unless they’re about to explode with milk. I see my ass that doesn’t sit quite as high as it used to. My stomach might be flat but it damn sure isn’t firm. Let’s not even get started on my hips that seem to have expanded a few sizes and my thighs that are starting to dimple!” I end my rant on a scream, huff out a breath, and finally look up to meet his eyes.
His blue orbs are blazing bright. His full lips are parted in a shocked O. I can tell that he’s holding on to his control by just a thread.
“Where are you going right now?” he questions, throwing me off with his change of subject.
HA! I knew he wouldn’t even touch that minefield! No man would be stupid enough to reply to all that shit I just threw out.
“Uh, to do my yoga in the basement.”
He gives me a sharp nod, prowls towards me, and bends to hook his shoulder into my belly.
“Oh my God! Asher, what are you doing?” I shriek.
“Quiet, wife,” he demands, slapping my ass hard enough to sting. “I’m going to fucking show you just how wrong you are. Fucking hell, woman!”
He stomps through the house, grabbing Zac’s monitor off the kitchen table before trotting down the stairs into the basement. The whole time, he’s muttering about what a crazy person his wife is and how he clearly needs to take me to the eye doctor. I just snort and hang on for the ride. He’ll see. He hasn’t been able to get me naked without the lights off or dim in months, so once he sees exactly what I’m talking about, he’ll understand! And I’m going to laugh in his cocky face.
He gently puts me down on my feet, turning to power up the iPod. I can hear the beat of Kelly Rowland’s Motivation start to fill the room. He stands there with his legs braced, his back tight, and his thick arms crossed over his chest. His face is impassive, and I start to squirm at his silence.
“Go ahead. You wanted to do your yoga, so do it.”
My m
outh opens and closes a few times at his demand. “I-I can’t just . . . You can’t expect me to . . . Dammit, Asher!”
“You’ve got it in your head that you need to change this body that I fucking love, so, woman—get to changing.”
His face doesn’t change. If anything, he gets an even harder expression.
Well, shit.
I hear the music change into something a little easier for me to relax to, deciding that it’s best to just ignore him and start my warm-up and stretches. After fifteen minutes of stretching, bending, and swinging my body enough to wake up my tired muscles, I turn and see him still in the same position.
Well, whatever.
Completely lost in my yoga, I forget that Asher is in the room. I enjoy the way my body starts to wake up, feeling the endorphins start to shoot through my body. My skin starts to feel alive. Every part of my body is awake and loving the feeling of being used. I have just bent down to place my palms against the mat when I hear him growl. I jump and look through my spread legs at the man standing behind me.
Gone is the pissed-off impassiveness. Gone are the hard lines of his anger. His arms are no longer crossed over his chest. Instead, I find him standing a few feet behind me. His shorts are gone, his hard cock being stroked lazily in one fist.
What the hell?
When I move to stand, he quickly moves forward and firmly grasps my hips. His rock-hard cock, free of his hold, slides forward between my spread legs. I moan at the feeling.
He rocks his hips forward a few times, causing us both to breathe a little heavier. “Does this feel like I don’t love every goddamn thing about your body, Chelcie? Hmm? Because let me tell you, Sunshine. I see your body and I want to throw you over my shoulder every damn time. I see your tits and I want to take them in my hands. I want to watch your pink nipples harden at my touch right before I suck them deep in my mouth. I see the stomach you say isn’t firm enough and, honestly, I could care less, babe. I see your stomach and I remember how hot you looked carrying our boy. Then I can’t help but get hot thinking about putting another baby in there. And that ass. Jesus Christ, you don’t even want to know how many times I’ve had to go to the bathroom at work because I’ll picture that fine ass and all of a sudden my cock is begging for release. I see those thighs you say are getting dimples and all I can think about is getting my hands on them—spreading your legs and digging my fingers in while I devour that sweet pussy with my tongue.”