Never Giving Up (Never #3)

by Anie Michaels

  “Oh my God,” I whispered. I felt Porter press a kiss against my temple, but I didn’t dare look up at him. I couldn’t. I stared at Mattie for as long as I could. I don’t think I could ever tear my eyes away from her, from this. I’m connected to her like I’ve never been connected to anyone.

  Eventually Mattie fell asleep and no longer fed, but just slept with me in her mouth.

  “She’s asleep,” I said quietly to the nurse who was making polite conversation with our moms while I nursed Mattie, all of them laughing and smiling as if the most miraculous thing in the world wasn’t happening in my arms.

  “Newborns are so lazy,” she said with a smile. “You might find her to be more lethargic in the next couple of days due to the hematoma, so you’ll need to try extra hard to get her to latch on. If I’m not here to help, there’s always a lactation specialist on the floor, so don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

  “What hematoma?” Tilly asked. We spent the next five minutes explaining Mattie’s condition, taking her hat off and showing our moms her injury.

  “You should try to feed her at least every two to three hours, and if she’d too tired to eat, make sure you’re pumping. Ring the bell if you have any questions.” Fran said goodbye to everyone and just as she left, another nurse entered and informed us it was time to change rooms. There was a flurry of activity, but I kept my eyes on Mattie and my arms wrapped around her. They didn’t allow me to hold her as we moved rooms, but they did allow Porter to wheel her in a bassinette.

  Our parents decided to leave us, all needing sleep just as much as we did. We said our goodbyes and the nurse got us situated in our new room—and, yes, the bed was much more comfortable. I was given a ton of instructions from the nurse, all of which were overwhelming, and she could tell I was exhausted. She left us, claiming she’d return soon to check on us.

  Suddenly, it’s just Porter, Mattie, and me. The three of us. Alone. I looked at him and it occurred to me that he had yet to hold his baby. I was instantly ashamed that I hogged her, that I let everyone else hold her first.

  “Porter, you haven’t held her yet,” I said, urging him to come to us. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say something?” He shrugged.

  “Watching you with her has been the most wonderful experience I’ve ever had. I didn’t want to take her from you,” he said, simply. My heart liquefied at his words. It was typical Porter to put me and my needs before his own.

  “Come over here,” I whispered, scooting over on the bed so there was enough room for him to sit next to me. Once he was so close to me I could feel the heat radiating from him, I passed Mattie over, gently laying her in the crook of his elbow. He didn’t falter, didn’t seem nervous at all. He took her and he held her firmly, without hesitation. He was a natural. Her tiny, perfect head fit snuggly against the strong muscle of his bicep, and her pristine, creamy and pink face looked flawless against his tanned skin.

  “She’s so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes not blinking, using every moment to just look at her. I leaned my head up against his arm, listening to him breathe, watching him caress the feather-soft tuft of hair at the nape of her neck. “She’s perfect, you know,” he said quietly, looking into my eyes. “You made a perfect little girl.”

  “We made a perfect little girl.”

  He kissed my forehead. “You did most of the work.”

  “Well, that I won’t argue with you about.” I sighed and leaned my head against him again, exhaustion taking me over.

  “I was really scared there for a little while.” His voice was still quiet, but now it was hesitant and almost weak. I looked up at him, wondering what in the world could ever possibly make my husband sound so broken.

  “What do you mean?”

  “For a while there I was afraid you and the baby weren’t going to make it through that delivery. You were so brave and so determined, but she just wasn’t coming out. You were bleeding so much and trying so hard . . .” His voice trailed off and I watched him take a few shuddering breaths, his fingers never leaving the baby’s fine hair peeking out of her hat. “I refused to let myself think what would happen to me if I lost you, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared today.” He turned his face to look at me, eyes wet but not spilling over with tears. “I don’t ever want to find out what life is like without you. I need you, Ella. We need you.”

  I thought about his words and tried to imagine what the birth must have looked like from his point of view. I imagine I would have been nervous and scared had I witnessed that too.

  “What’s funny,” I began, hoping my insight might make him feel a little better, “is that I wasn’t ever once concerned about myself or the baby.” I leaned back against his arm and looked down at Mattie, still comfortably sleeping in her father’s arms. “I just kept thinking that I only had one job and that was to get her out. I was going to push and push and push until she was here. But when the doctor said it was now or never, I just knew it was up to me.” I shrugged a little, my eyes drifting closed. “I just did what I had to do to protect her,” I said, sleepily.

  We sat there in silence for a few moments and I could feel myself drifting away. I was nearly asleep when I had a thought of panic and I sat up, looking around for the baby. I breathed a quick sigh of relief to see Porter still awake and looking down on her.

  “I don’t feel comfortable sleeping with her in the bed. Maybe you could take her to the rocking chair? Or put her in the bassinette?”

  “Sure. No problem,” he said, slowly standing up and moving to the chair.

  “But, uh, Porter?”

  “Yeah?” He said as his beautiful brown eyes found mine.

  “Don’t fall asleep while you’re holding her. If you get tired just put her down, ok?”

  He laughed at me and smiled. “Don’t worry, Ella. I’m not going to break her. But I promise I’ll put her down if I get tired.”

  “Thank you.” I laid back down and pulled the thin hospital blanket up around my shoulders.

  “Ella?”

  “Yes?” My head sunk into the pillow and I felt myself starting to relax.

  “Thank you for giving me a family.”

  I opened my eyes and saw him staring down at Mattie and I saw so much love beaming down on her. “Yeah, well, thanks for being a good son and driving a total stranger home in a rain storm.”

  He looked over at me and we both smiled, knowing that so much more was in store for us.

  The first two weeks of having a new baby was nothing like I had expected it to be. I can’t really remember what I was expecting, mainly because remembering anything, including my own name, at some points was a stretch.

  Mattie was the perfect baby—during the day. She slept beautifully—during the day. She cooed and cried and opened her beautiful eyes every once in a while to take in her surroundings. But at night, well, things could have gone better. The baby cried, I cried, and sometimes Porter looked as though he was a deer in headlights. The poor man didn’t know up from down some days and there were times I was no help at all. I had my fair share of breakdowns in the darkness of night, having absolutely no idea why my baby cried for hours.

  One thing I did learn, though, throughout all the madness of that transitional time, was that sometimes you had to throw out all the advice and parenting books you’d read and just listen to your baby. Mattie wouldn’t sleep or stop crying until she laid directly on me. So guess where she slept? That’s right: on me. This particular arrangement made it difficult for me to sleep, but I was happy to lay in the dark, half dozing, if it was quiet and Mattie wasn’t crying. Porter did everything he could to help; if she was awake, he was awake. But if she was sleeping it made no sense for him to lie awake with me. I used those quiet moments in the dark to reflect on how much my life had changed, to imagine where we’d be in another year’s time.

  Thankfully, I never found myself drifting into the darkness in my mind. The events surrounding my shooting and Kyle would seep into my thoughts a
t times, but I never wallowed. I allowed myself to process the thoughts, I even wrote some of them down if I thought it would be helpful in court, but then I moved on. I let my mind wander elsewhere. I never panicked and I never worried. It was a new feeling of being content I’d never experienced.

  I also expected that after having a baby, for a little while at least, my sex drive would be gone and, in some ways, it was. I definitely didn’t want to have sex; sitting was a hardship sometimes. But seeing Porter shirtless holding our baby, talking to her about her day, was the biggest turn on ever. He was so gentle with her, so careful. If I had thought he’d used soft hands with me before, I was wrong. He was soft with Mattie, soft for her. The sun rose and set with her. She had the secrets to the universe and he tried to coax them out of her every evening, rocking with her, telling her stories, running his fingers over the soft hair on her head.

  For two weeks now we focused on Mattie and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We loved her and would do anything for her. But when I realized that, for the first time since we’d been home from the hospital with her, she was asleep in the middle of the day and I wasn’t completely exhausted, my mind immediately started thinking about how much I missed my husband.

  I found him in the laundry room, moving clothes from the washer to the dryer—bless him. He was focused on his task and didn’t hear me approach. I felt him startle a little when I slid my hands around his waist from behind, pressing my front to his back, snuggling in. His hand slid over top of mine, caressing me, causing my breaths to come faster. It had been so long since we’d been together and I was now a little angry at the fact that we still had four more weeks to wait.

  I breathed him in, cherishing the familiarity of his scent. He always smelled the same and I came to rely on it, expect it, love it.

  “Hey, Babe,” he said softly, aware of the fact that Mattie was asleep, not wanting to wake her. “What’s up? Gonna go lie down?”

  “Nope,” I said, popping the P, with my face still resting against his back.

  “Can I get you anything?” He asked, making me smile against him.

  “Nope.” This time I popped the P loudly, making him chuckle.

  “Ok.”

  I loosened my grip and walked around him, placing myself between him and the washing machine, and looked up at him, my hands now on his chest.

  “Hi,” I whispered.

  “Hey.” He looked at me with pure confusion, a smile playing on his face as he tried to figure out what it was I wanted from him, his eyebrows raised in question.

  “I miss you.” My whisper was even softer, my insecurity coming over me, a little embarrassed to be putting myself out there so blatantly. His brow relaxed at my words, but a new look of concern had worry lines forming around his eyes. There was a very large part of me that I just now realized was hanging by a thread, scared to death that he would reject me. My hands slid around his neck, fingers running through the hair there, gently urging him down to me. He came willingly, but stopped short, his forehead resting against mine.

  “I’m right here,” he said breathily, his hands coming to rest against my back, right at the swell of my backside.

  “Are you? Because you feel pretty far away right now.” I couldn’t keep the hurt from my voice. He knew what I was asking for, yet he held it just out of arms reach.

  “Ella, we can’t. Not yet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Not sex, Porter, just . . . I don’t know . . . us.” I dropped my hands from his neck and pulled back, putting some distance between us. “You use to hold me every night. You would hold my hand at the dinner table, touch me as you passed by, find any reason you could just to touch me.” He tried to open his mouth to interject but I put my hand up. “Let me finish.” I took a deep breath, finding the courage to continue. “I know things are different now. I know that there’s a baby in our bed and I don’t look the same.” My words became a little strangled as I felt a lump forming in my throat. “I just don’t want to lose that part of us that I love so much, the part where we’re never close enough to each other.”

  I continued to look down, not wanting to witness his rejection or his dismissal. But goose bumps raised up all over my skin when I felt a single fingertip bring my chin up. When our eyes met, I couldn’t ignore the concern still written across his face.

  “Don’t ever question my need for you, Ella. Don’t insult our relationship that way. Don’t insult yourself either. I’m sorry if I’ve done a poor job of making you feel secure.” He said and his hands ran up my shoulders, coming to rest on either side of my neck, his thumbs smoothing over my jaw. “I’ve been so focused on making sure Mattie is taken care of and then making sure you’re taken care of, I just feel like I can’t do enough for either of you. But don’t doubt, ever, that I want you.” His face moved down and his lips rested just barely on my ear. “I crave you,” he sighed into me, the air from his mouth moved against my ear and I melted even further against him. “I refuse to be the husband,” he said, splaying kisses gently across my neck, “who pressures his wife,” more kisses, “who’s just given him the greatest gift,” wetter kisses now, “to have sex with him before she’s ready.” His hands roamed, one still on the back of my neck, the other moving down my side, grazing my ribcage.

  “I don’t need sex, Porter. I just need you.” He stepped into me, pressing my back against the washing machine, his hands grabbing ahold of me firmly where they lay. His eyes suddenly peered into mine, both of us breathing hard, my heart beating rapidly. Then slowly his mouth lowered to mine.

  His kiss started slow and gentle, as if her were afraid he would break me if he pushed me too far. We’d done little more than peck on the mouth since Mattie was born. She was our focus, but right now, I wanted to feel something besides his concern, besides his need to care for us. I wanted him to remember the passion we shared between us, needed him to bring me that point where he was my everything and I was his.

  When his tongue teased the seam of my lips I opened for him, moaning into his mouth as his tongue sought out mine, pressing against it firmly, guiding our kiss. His hands came to my cheeks, angling my face just right so that he could devour me. What started out gentle was now heated, and he kissed me like I was the last little bit of air left in the world and he was drowning. He breathed me in, using me, taking me, and I loved it.

  His hands were suddenly on my waist, hoisting me onto the washing machine and he stepped in between my knees, his stomach pressing firmly in between my legs.

  “You tell me what you want, tell me when to stop if I go too far.” His mouth returned to mine, one hand brushing the hair back from my face as he kissed me, the other making its way below the hem of my shirt, gliding up the skin of my back. I pulled back and yanked his shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor, then pulling him back to me, my hands finding his hard muscles.

  “I love your body, Porter,” I said against his mouth and I meant it. He’d always had a nice body, but I hadn’t found a lot of time lately to admire it. But now, with my hands running smoothly and bravely over the contours of his perfectly sculpted torso, I was free to admire how wonderfully built he was. “You’re perfect.”

  He groaned, wrapping one strong arm around my middle and sweeping me off the washing machine, his other arm holding me behind my knees, he carried me from the laundry room. My arms wrapped themselves around the back of his neck and I continued kissing him, remembering that last time he carried me like this when we had come home from our honeymoon. Him always the traditionalist, carrying me over the threshold. I smiled against him, the memory having a serene effect on me.

  He sat on the couch and we both landed with a thud, but it mattered not because his mouth was back on mine and he pulled me closer to him still. I sat on his lap but couldn’t get as close as I wanted, so I moved to straddle him, one knee on either side of his hips. It was only when I had pressed my center against him that I thought it might not have been a good idea. He must have sense my une
ase because he pulled back and his eyes found mine.

  “Are you ok?” His voice was gravelly and raspy in a way that made every hair on my body stand at attention. “Ella?”

  “Mmm hmm,” I mumbled, moving my lips to his neck. Hearing him gasp as my lips met the skin there, tasting him, thrilled me. Perhaps, even though I wasn’t as skinny as I used to be or as put together, maybe I could still get to him, still turn him on and affect him the way he affected me.

  I tentatively and very slowly used my hips to grind into him. I could feel him beneath me, feel his arousal, and I desperately needed to feel him against me.

  “Ella, no, stop.” My heart stopped, not accustomed to hearing him put things to a halt between us. He brought his lips back to mine and continued to kiss me, but my confusion was keeping me from enjoying his mouth at the moment. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said by way of explanation. He was worried about me.

  I was acutely aware of my body, obsessively so, in fact. I had been ever since I’d given birth. At first, everything had hurt, with good reason; a baby will seriously mess everything up. It hurt to sit, it hurt to stand, it hurt—period. But as the days went by and things began to heal, I took note of what was still painful and what seemed to be comfortable again. It had been two weeks since the birth of Mattie and I felt almost normal again. I didn’t feel like running a marathon and I didn’t want anything coming even remotely close to the inside of my vagina, but being with him, like this, felt wonderful. Well, it had until he’d told me to stop.

  “Porter, please, I need this. I miss you.”

  “If I hurt you, Ella, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”