Just Breathe Trilogy Box Set

by Martha Sweeney

  A smile pops onto my face as the idea floods my mind. “We haven’t had the chance really, have we? Not since Coronado?”

  “No,” Joe confirms. “I don’t mind why. A lot has happened, but I think it’s a good day to start discussing it. We don’t have to make any decisions, but talking is a good first step.”

  “Sure,” I agree.

  The waiter comes over and takes our order and Joe is surprised when I order a glass of wine.

  “It’s been a month,” I defend when I see the questioning look on his face. “Besides, I can pump and dump. We’ve got plenty from yesterday and today back at the house.”

  “I’m not judging,” Joe defends.

  “Yes, you are,” I tease.

  “No, beautiful,” Joe returns. “I’m glad you’re letting yourself relax a little. This should be fun.”

  “What?”

  “You having a glass of wine after ten months of not having one,” Joe chuckles. “You might be some fun entertainment for me tonight.”

  “When am I not entertaining?”

  “True,” he laughs, taking a sip of his water.

  The waiter returns with a glass of champagne for Joe and me and we toast to ourselves and our life.

  “So,” Joe begins. “Do you have any thoughts?”

  “About what?”

  “Our wedding?” Joe reminds.

  “No,” I admit.

  “No book like Maggie?” he inspects.

  “No,” I giggle. “No book.”

  “Did you ever see yourself getting married, Emma?”

  “No,” I reply. “Wait. That’s not true.”

  “So you have,” Joe states with a pleased grin.

  “Yes,” I confirm.

  “When? With who?” Joe investigates.

  “You,” I admit, taking a sip of my wine.

  “Me? When?” Joe questions with a hint of shock.

  “When I found out I was pregnant,” I share.

  “Really?”

  “Mm hm,” I confirm.

  “Before or after I asked you in the mountains?” Joe raises a brow.

  The heat in my cheeks increases. “Before,” I cough out quietly.

  “What was that?” Joe says, leaning forward.

  “You heard me,” I challenge.

  “I know,” Joe replies with a widening smile. “I just want to hear you say it again. When exactly?”

  “When I found out that I was pregnant with our son,” I repeat.

  Joe doesn’t say anything and the expression on his face is like he’s just got one of the best birthday presents ever in his entire life.

  “Stop gloating,” I command.

  “I’m not going to stop,” he protests. “Besides, I’m celebrating.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head, knowing he’s never going to let me live this moment down.

  The waiter comes over with our appetizer and salads and we begin eating.

  “Where would you want to have it?” Joe probes. “I know you definitely don’t want it on the East Coast.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” I reply. “Did you have something in mind.”

  Joe smiles. “Yes.”

  “Care to fill me in since we’re supposed to be both discussing this?” I check.

  “Hawaii,” Joe shares.

  My hand pauses a few inches from my mouth for a second before I take a bite. “Why Hawaii?”

  “Why not?” Joe answers. “We have a lot of great memories there.”

  “Which island?” I ask, taking another bite of food.

  “We could do it where we stayed the last time with everyone, the spot where we were six, or . . . .”

  “Or . . .” I solicit.

  “Or, we could have it where Queen Emma’s summer palace is,” Joe reveals. “I wanted to take you there, but we didn’t have time.”

  “What’s Queen Emma’s summer palace?”

  “It was a summer retreat for Queen Emma of Hawaii in the late eighteen hundreds,” Joe explains. “Since your name is Emma and you’re my queen, I figured that it might be appropriate.”

  “So, does that make you my king?” I inspect playfully.

  “I hope so,” Joe replies with a grin and a raised brow.

  “How many people can it fit?”

  “Not too many,” Joe mentions. “Knowing both of us, I think it’d be perfect since we both want a relaxed, intimate wedding.”

  “How do you know I want a relaxed, intimate wedding?” I goad.

  Joe’s grin widens. “After dealing with Maggie’s and Henry’s wedding and hearing everything with Nathan’s and Jared’s.”

  I take another bite of my food and let the idea sink in a little.

  “Besides,” Joe begins, “the honeymoon is most important and I can’t wait to see your reaction to that.”

  “What? Why don’t I get to help plan it?” I ask.

  “That’s part of my gift to you,” Joe comments.

  “You know I don’t like surprises, Joseph,” I return.

  Joe chuckles. “I’m sure you’ll teach me my lesson . . . maybe later tonight when we get home?”

  My cheeks burn more at his insinuation. It’s been a month since Joe Jr. has been born and we haven’t had sex. I’ve helped him a number of times, willingly of course. After the first two weeks, I felt comfortable with Joe returning some of the favor orally since we had to abstain — longest month ever. It’s not easy fighting your urges, even when you’re tired and around the one you love all day, practically every day. I’ve gotten a clean bill of health from Kim, Gwen and Brenda, so there’s no issue there, but not getting any for a month and not knowing how well my parts have or haven’t snapped back into place is a little daunting.

  “Maybe,” I tease.

  “Maybe?” Joe checks. “I though Kim told you you’re good?”

  “You checking in on me?” I pry.

  “Yes,” Joe admits openly. “It’s not easy having to fight off my urges with you, beautiful.”

  “You have,” I remind.

  “Those times don’t really count,” Joe states.

  “We’ll see how the wedding planning goes,” I challenge. “You need to give me something with regards to the honeymoon.”

  “So, we’re negotiating now?” Joe chuckles.

  “Yes,” I giggle.

  One Hundred Fifty Seven

  Our family visits us in California for Thanksgiving, wanting to be able to stay through December and spend the New Year in California to see the Rose Parade. For New Year’s Eve, Joe and I take the dogs and Joe Jr. with us over to the penthouse on Colorado — the penthouse that has been since renovated by his parents to make both of the two sides a single home as well as half of a floor below it. There are plenty of rooms for everyone, especially since one of the kitchens on the top floor and the one below have been converted into bedrooms.

  First thing at seven in the morning on New Year’s, the Nelson’s walk over from their apartment to join everyone to watch the parade. Everyone else, who aren’t in Pasadena, trickle in around the same time to avoid traffic since many of the roads have been blocked off.

  With most of us still in pajamas, and blankets wrapped around us, we snack on different breakfast finger foods the staff has prepared as the floats and marching bands begin. The parade starts right at eight and continues for at least the next two hours, marching along Colorado Boulevard for a total of five-and-a-half miles. We cheer and dance with the children as the music plays.

  By the afternoon, we’re already walking into the Rose Bowl Stadium to watch the football game, being ushered into our club box seats section that is just for our family.

  Two days later, I reluctantly pack my bags to head back to New York with our family, not excited about having to deal with the winter weather. I do want our son to experience the snow, but I’m not sure about the cold, bitter winter of the East Coast. We have to stay in New York until at least the middle of January for Nathan’s runway show and the weddin
g, but I still don’t like the whole idea of being in the cold weather that long with Joe Jr..

  I find myself stuffing extra clothes for myself and Joe Jr. all while Joe teases me.

  “We can go shopping and then leave those things there for when we go back,” Joe reminds.

  I glare at him.

  “It might not be our main home, but it’s still another home, beautiful,” Joe comments.

  “I know,” I acknowledge, pulling out another bag and plopping it on the bed.

  “Let me,” Anna insists, opening it and going through my drawers and closet.

  “Thank you, Anna,” I accept.

  “Mommy,” Joe calls, holding our son up next to his face.

  I do my best to ignore him.

  “Mommy,” Joe calls again. “Come play with us.”

  “It’s nap time,” I remind.

  “We can play until he falls asleep,” Joe protests as he lightly bounces on the rebounder with our son.

  “Fine,” I agree.

  Now in New York, and for even some of the decorating I did with Anna the last time we were here, I hire an interior designer, wanting to make more changes now that Joe Jr. is with us. My future sisters-in-laws and their children are with us so they can all have a play date. Our men join us later in the day for dinner. Joe is gloating all night at how I’ve taken over, making the place feel more like a home.

  “Stop laughing at me,” I accuse.

  “I’m not laughing at you, beautiful,” Joe denies. “I’m laughing with you.” He’s rocking Joe Jr. to sleep as I finish rearranging a few things on my side of the walk-in closet.

  “Yes, you are,” I press back playfully.

  “Admit it,” Joe challenges. “You like it.”

  “It’s not bad,” I confess. “The place looks better now.”

  “On another note,” Joe says. “Are you ready for the meeting tomorrow with mom and dad?”

  “No,” I confess. “You?”

  “No,” Joe admits. “I don’t like how things have turned out either. And, I don’t see this going smoothly with Mr. Ward.”

  “Well,” I say after taking a deep breath. “You and your dad did as much as you could to turn it all into a positive. Clearly, that’s not what Mr. Ward wants and we need to take action to protect our investments.”

  “I agree,” Joe replies. “It’s best for the company as a whole.”

  The next day, Joe and I pick up his parents before continuing over to the Hammer Corporation building while Anna and the staff take care of Joe Jr. and the dogs. The car ride is eerily quiet and almost ominous as if none of us know what to say. When we arrive at the building, the majority of the staff are already gone for the holiday season, making this meeting a little more manageable, should Mr. Ward not care for the outcome. Stepping out of the limo, we’re greeted by five of the Covelli family’s lawyers. The nine of us, plus eight of our bodyguards make our way toward the elevators after checking in at the front desk, headed for the fifty-ninth floor.

  Inside an extremely large conference room, we’re greeted by a team of ten individuals, consisting of seven men and three women. I discover that they are the board of directors for the company. They oversee many functions and departments of the Hammer Corporation with Mr. Ward as the Chief Executive Officer and principal stock holder. After introductions, everyone is seated and waits for Mr. Ward to arrive.

  “What the hell is going on?” Mr. Ward shouts upon his arrival when he notices the four of us intruding on his meeting.

  “You knew this would be happening, Charles,” Mr. Covelli states. “We talked about this.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” Mr. Ward charges back. “I told you I’m addressing the situation. Not to mention, non-board members are not allowed in this meeting.”

  “They may not be board members,” says Mr. Grant, the chairman of the board, as he stands up. “But, they have every right being here since they own a large portion of stock in the company. Need I remind you that the Covellis join us from time to time on certain decisions that need to be made since they comprise of such a large percentage of shares?”

  “Then, she needs to leave,” Mr. Ward spits, pointing right at me.

  “She will not be leaving,” informs Mr. Grant. “She’s privy to any discussions here just as much as the Covelli family.”

  “Should we invite the rest of them since this is becoming a family affair?” Mr. Ward sneers in mock tone. “Lets have all of the Covellis here for this . . . and their children, and their children’s children.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Charles,” Mr. Grant says, trying to diffuse Mr. Ward’s temper.

  “Then, she needs to leave,” Mr. Ward demands.

  “My soon-to-be wife will not be leaving,” Joe directs calmly but assertively. “She is the one who discovered this discrepancy.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Ward challenges. “She’s not a board member nor a shareholder. And, not a person with voting power, so she must be removed.”

  “Actually,” Mr. Grant interrupts, “Ms. Peterson has a considerable amount of shares in the company.”

  “What? Since when?” Mr. Ward barks.

  “Since finding out who she was and that the missing shareholder all these years has been her father,” informs Mr. Grant. “Ms. Peterson, soon-to-be Mrs. Covelli, has inherited said shares from her father.”

  “You will not vote me out of my own company,” Mr. Ward declares.

  “We tried bringing the challenges to you,” Mr. Covelli reminds. “You have chosen not to listen or do the right thing, Charles. That is why we’re all here.”

  “I have made changes,” Mr. Ward claims.

  “The only changes our lawyers and their lawyers have found is you pretending to report that changes have been occurring, changes that are to better the company, all while you’ve been siphoning money into your own private off-shore accounts,” Mr. Grant explains. “Do you care to explain your actions, Mr. Ward?”

  “I don’t need to explain myself to any of you,” Mr. Ward snaps. “This is my company.”

  “Actually, with the number of shares between the Covelli family and Ms. Peterson, I’d say it’s their company,” states Mr. Grant.

  “Like hell it is,” Mr. Ward protests.

  “See for yourself,” replies Mr. Grant, offering a document to Mr. Ward by way of one of the lawyers.

  The room remains silent while Mr. Ward studies the document.

  The total number of shares between Joe’s family and the one’s my father purchased, and with the splittings and doublings, confirms a forty-two-and-a-half percent ownership in the company.

  “How do I know you’re not lying?” Mr. Ward scoffs.

  “The Hammer Corporation lawyers have verified it, Charles,” states Mr. Grant. “Please, understand . . . .”

  “Don’t patronize or threaten me,” Mr. Ward says through gritted teeth.

  “Think of your family, Charles,” replies Mr. Grant. “It would be a lot easier for you to admit your faults and work with the authorities on this rather than fight it. We’ve all had a friend or two try to fight it, only making it worse for their loved ones.”

  Several men in dark suits with badges hanging around their necks step into the room.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mr. Ward exclaims. “I knew it. I knew you’ve been wanting to take over my company,” he says, turning and facing Mr. and Mrs. Covelli. “You’re going to just let this little floozy interfere like this.”

  “My fiancé is not a floozy, Mr. Ward,” Joe commands sternly. “Be a man and admit your faults rather than trying to blame someone else for your mistakes.”

  “My daughter was right. She’s the same type of trash your mother married,” Mr. Ward spits. “You’ve been blinded by the help rather than see them for what they really are. They just want your money, you stupid boy.”

  “Funny,” Joe muses. “My fiancé, Emma is her name by the way, who you claim is the help, is not only th
e one who discovered the discrepancies with your company, but she is someone who has built herself from nothing, making her own millions before she and I ever met. Someone of your caliber, Mr. Ward, should know what that’s like considering that’s exactly what you had done, just like my father. Besides, there’s no way I would have ever entertained the idea of marrying Abagail, which is what I know you’ve wanted, just to get your shares back from my family.”

  “Please, Charles,” calls Mr. Grant. “Make this easier on yourself. You’re going to suffer the consequences of your actions regardless and it’s just up to you as to how much you and your family will suffer from it.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Mr. Ward questions heatedly.

  “No,” chuckles Mr. Grant. “There’s no need to since you put yourself in this position. I just hope for your sake, that they don’t take everything from you, forcing your wife and child out onto the streets . . . what did you call it . . . to have to become the help while you’re in jail.”

  “I won’t stay in there long,” Mr. Ward claims.

  “That’s for the jury to decide, Charles,” Mr. Grant states. “Besides, you’re guilty and everyone here knows it. Wake up and take responsibility. Maybe they’ll go easy on you.”

  “Like hell I will,” Mr. Ward yells, lunging toward one of the agents standing next to him. He manages to grab a gun, but the agent and several others move quickly to subdue him.

  Unfortunately, Mr. Ward is able to get a shot off and the room goes silent. Joe, his parents and I check each other, making sure none of us are hurt. A woman screams a man’s name and everyone but the guards who have restrained Mr. Ward turn to look. Mr. Grant, who has been directing the majority of the meeting, is clasping his right arm and blood is seeping through his fingers.

  “You won’t get away with this,” screams Mr. Ward as the agents drag him out of the conference room. “None of you will get away with this. You’ll pay. You’ll all pay for ruining me.”

  One Hundred Fifty Eight

  As Joe Jr. turns three months old, I look back on everything that has happened since his birth and all the wonderful things that have taken place. Our first Christmas with him has been a dream with our joined families, even though we aren’t married yet. We’ve got most of our wedding planned and I have yet to get any information out of Joe or Anna concerning the honeymoon. The Nelson’s have been with us in New York since we’ve arrived, spending time with some of the old neighbors while also assisting with Joe Jr. so Joe and I can have some time together. We even spend two nights at one of the Covelli hotels, pre-planned by Joe of course, so we can have some alone time. My sex drive has returned and Joe keeps joking around about having another baby — definitely not ready for that yet.