“It’s just that there’s always someone there, someone a little too flirty or handsy. I might notice because, hell, I’m a guy, but I’ve never acted on it. I’ve never wanted anyone. Only you.”
A smile spreads across my face. “Have you seen you? You’re gorgeous. Stunning, actually. I’ve witnessed grown women losing their minds when they’re around you. But do you know what? While it might bother me that someone has the balls big enough to openly flirt with you in my presence, I knew in my heart that it was just that: a flirt. I knew, at the end of the day, you were coming home to me. Not them. Me. So, please don’t worry about me. I know your job and I know some of the women you train, but I also know you would have never stepped outside of our marriage.”
He visibly relaxes as he reaches for my side and pulls me into his hard chest. “That includes now.”
My hands slide up his back as I rest my cheek against his pec. “We’re not married now,” I remind him.
“Maybe not on paper, but we’ll remedy that. Soon. As soon as you agree to marry me again.”I smile, inhaling the intoxicating mixture of his body wash and the detergent in his shirt. “You’ve always been my wife, Winnie,” he whispers, tightening his arms as if I might somehow slip away. “You always will be, even if you never say the word.”
My heart pounds in my chest with the intensity of a drum. I’m sure he can feel it slamming against his torso, but he never says anything. As I gaze up and our eyes meet, I only see happiness reflecting in his, and I know we’re going to be okay. Sure, this may be a little unconventional, but it’s our story and no one else’s.
We write our ending.
“Ready to go tell our families they’re going to be grandparents?” he asks, a wide smile on his full lips.
“I am,” I confirm, trying to pull away from the hug, but not getting very far.
Instead, Harrison lowers his lips to mine, giving me a slow, soft kiss. My body hums with energy, excitement racing through my veins. Even though we share a bed, Harrison isn’t rushing anything between the sheets. We’ve actually only made love a few times, and those have seemed more out of desperate need than anything. He still treats me like I’m made of glass. I honestly think it’s because he’s trying to take this slow—dating, as he likes to call it. Well, I remember when we were first dating all those years ago. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other and practically went at it like rabbits.
Something I wouldn’t mind repeating in the near future.
“I’m going to stop by the gym, finish up a few things, and grab some work to bring home. I’ll meet you there by five, and then we can head to the restaurant together,” he says.
“Sounds good,” I confirm, reaching for my door handle and giving it a tug.
It’s warm for the first week of June, and I can already tell the inside of my new car is sweltering. Harrison found a great family car with the best safety rating for me. I slide onto the seat and crank the engine. It fires to life instantly, the air pumping through the fan warm and sticky. Harrison reaches through the open door and cranks on the air conditioning. Before he removes himself completely from the vehicle, he places both hands on my cheeks and puts his lips on mine. Again, the kiss is slow and sweet, but there’s a fire smoldering just below the surface. I can feel it, and if the look in his eyes is any indication, he can too.
“See you soon,” he whispers, his lips dancing one last time against mine. I shudder, craving his hands and his lips other places on my flushed body.
“Soon.”
That’s a promise.
Harrison and I walk through the front door together of another favorite restaurant of mine. It’s not lost on me that he chose this place to share our news with our families. This is where we told them we were getting married and where our rehearsal dinner was held. A lot of memories were made within these walls, that’s for sure.
As soon as the door closes behind us, we find both his parents, as well as mine, already chatting by the hostess stand. The confusion is clear when they see us enter together, as if them both meeting their child for dinner at the same time is more than just a coincidence. The light bulbs seem to turn on. My mom glances at his, then to my dad. There’s no missing the look of question on their faces.
“Honey, good to see you,” Harrison’s mom, Sarah, greets her son with a hug.
“Dear, look who we ran into when we arrived for dinner,” my mom adds as she pulls me into a hug of her own, glancing over my shoulder at her ex-son-in-law. “Is something going on?” she whispers in my ear.
“Let’s grab our table, and we’ll explain,” Harrison says, heading to the hostess stand. “Drake, party of six.”
My dad is watching me, his all-knowing eyes assessing and dissecting. I can feel all their questions rolling off them in waves.
“All right, let’s have a seat and I’m sure the kids will explain why we’re here together,” Sarah agrees, taking her husband’s hand and falling in line behind the hostess. Their eyes burn into my back as Harrison places a hand above my rear and guides me to our table. My heart is about to leap from my chest with nervousness, and I can’t even drink to take the edge off.
Harrison takes the seat beside me, something the four sets of eyes around our table notice immediately. No one speaks as menus are placed in front of us and the hostess promises to send our waiter over immediately. I glance over tonight’s specials, but already know what I’m ordering. I’m sort of a creature of habit like that.
Our waitress arrives and I recognize her immediately. She’s worked here for years and has served Harrison and me many meals. She also knew about the divorce, like everyone else in town, so there’s no missing the curious look she gives. “Good evening,” she greets, setting glasses of water down at each plate. “Can I start you off with some drinks?”
Our parents order first, alcoholic beverages for each one. When she gets to me, I state, “Just water, please.”
“Same,” Harrison adds, closing his menu and setting it to the side.
“So, how’s work?” Sarah asks, glancing across the table to her son.
“Good. Busy. We’re getting ready to open the second location, and the third should follow later this summer. I also purchased a fourth location, which should be ready to go by the end of the year. It needs some cosmetic work to the building, but the structure is sound,” Harrison tells his parents.
“Good deal, son. Happy to see it taking off like this,” his dad, Adam, compliments.
As soon as our waitress returns with our drinks and takes our orders, all eyes fall on us. My nerves have me ready to jump out of my skin and I can’t stop my hand from thumping the tabletop and my legs from bouncing uncontrollably.
“Okay, spill,” my mom finally demands.
I clear my throat and open my mouth. “We have some news.”
“You’re back together,” Sarah states, her eyes full of happiness.
“Well—” I start, but am cut off.
“Yes,” Harrison answers, reaching down and taking my hand in his. The touch instantly calms my nerves. “We’re back together,” he adds, glancing my way and giving me a warm grin.
“Oh, I’m so happy!” my mom coos, clapping her hands victoriously as Sarah’s eyes fill with tears.
My dad just stares at my ex-husband, not voicing his pleasure like the women. When I glance at Adam, he’s doing the same. Both men look like they want to say something, or at least ask a question, and it’s my dad who speaks first. “What’s different about this time around?”
I sober instantly and sit up straight. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I glance at the man at my side to find his gaze locked on my father’s. “Everything,” Harrison reassures. “I openly admit that I messed up last time. I shouldn’t have let it get to the point it did. I shouldn’t have agreed to a divorce when I wanted anything but. That was entirely on me. I won’t make the same mistake a second time,” he adds, bringing my hand to his mouth. “I have too much at stake now.” He says th
e words to my dad, but I know they’re for me too.
“You don’t get all the blame,” I remind him, knowing full well I played a part in the demise of our marriage.
“But I take it. All of it. I should have fought harder for the things I loved and valued most in this world.” His eyes are intense and speak volumes for the sincerity in his voice. I know he takes full responsibility, even though that’s not where it lies. It’s placed at both our feet, though no matter how much I try to reason, it’s a bit difficult to get that through his thick skull.
Risking a glance across the table, I see both our moms wearing a tearful smile, while our dads still watch us closely, silently observing. When my dad finally speaks, he says, “I believe you, son. Just know that I won’t let you hurt her a second time.”
“Me either,” Adam states, “but I have to admit, I don’t see it happening a second time. I saw firsthand how bad that separation and divorce tore him up. Poor Chase took the brunt of his bad moods for several months.”
Harrison huffs. “Don’t poor Chase anything. He deserves every ounce of shit thrown his way,” he teases with a grin.
Adam lets out a hearty laugh. “Well, you may be right there, but still. You’ve been a bear with a thorn in your paw for months. If it takes returning that pretty lady beside you to your side, then I’m all for it.” Adam lifts his glass and salutes.
“Thanks, Dad,” Harrison replies before turning to my dad. “Dwayne, you have my word that I won’t hurt your daughter ever again. My purpose in life is to make her smile, not cry.”
And because I’m a hormonal mess, I start to cry. My mom reaches over the table and squeezes my arm. “Good tears are okay,” she adds with a wink.
“I suppose,” my dad grumbles, offering me a wink over his glass.
Our entrees are delivered a few moments later, and even though we haven’t shared our other news yet, I’ve crossed the first big hurdle of the evening. I can’t imagine anyone having any issues with the fact we’re bringing a baby into the world. Well, unless you take into account the fact we’re not married, have recently divorced each other, and are just now rekindling our relationship.
You know, besides that.
My linguine smells amazing. The perfect blend of light garlic and cheese mixes with the cooked shrimp. I’m a huge seafood lover, so I made sure to do my research on what I can and cannot have while pregnant. The good news is, as long as my shrimp is cooked, I can still enjoy it in moderation. The best part is their linguine sauce isn’t made from wine—another huge plus, considering the bun in my oven.
Just before I dig my fork into my noodles, Harrison grabs everyone’s attention. “If I could take a quick moment to share one more piece of good news before we eat, I think now is the time.”
Setting my fork down, I turn to face him. “Now?” I whisper, my mouth watering and my stomach growling for food.
He gives me a smile and wink and confirms, “Now.” Harrison takes my hand once more and brings it to his lips. His eyes remain locked on mine as he opens his mouth. “Winnie and I wanted to share that we’re making you grandparents at the end of the year.”
I hear the gasp first (undoubtably from my mother), followed quickly by the squeal of excitement. Chairs scrape on the floor, but I keep my eyes on the man beside me, lost in the sea of emotion we seem to be riding on these last few months. I’m pulled into a pair of arms, wrapped in the familiar perfume that belongs to my mom. Finally, Harrison lets go of my hand and I quickly stand, engulfed in a fierce hug.
“I can’t believe this! Grandma!” my mom bellows, loud enough that I know the entire restaurant has heard.
Before I can even respond, I’m tugged into another pair of arms, this time belonging to my former mother-in-law, Sarah. “I’ve always wanted to be a Mimi,” she whispers, her tears of happiness sliding effortlessly down her cheeks.
When she finally lets go, it only takes a moment for her arms to be replaced with the ones that offered me continual support and congratulations throughout my childhood. My dad pulls me in tight, and there’s no missing the wetness pressed between our cheeks. “Congratulations, baby girl.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I whisper, holding on just a little longer to the man who has been by my side my entire life. The one who accepts the direction my life is headed, even if he wants to step in to protect me.
“You’re gonna be an amazing mama,” he reassures, kissing me on the cheek before finally letting go.
When I step back, I’m surprised to see so many tears of joy. Even Adam’s eyes glisten under the low lighting. “Well, let’s not let our food get cold,” Harrison’s dad says. “I’m sure our grandbaby is hungry.”
As if on cue, my stomach growls, making everyone chuckle. I take my seat, anxious to dive back into my food. Before I can shovel in my first bite, my dad raises his glass. “I’d like to make a toast. To Harrison and Gwen. May their future be filled with love and laughter and may they find happiness in each other’s arms. And to the unborn baby they will bring into this world and nurture. Well, there will be no baby loved and cherished more than this child. Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
Chapter 13
Harrison
Time is flying by at a rapid pace. Seems like just a few weeks ago, we were hearing our peanut’s heartbeat for the first time. Now here we are sitting in the waiting room for Winnie’s sixteen-week appointment. Sixteen weeks and my girl has a noticeable baby bump. Seems like overnight Peanut has made an appearance, and I can’t keep my hands off her. Luckily, Winnie humors me and just grins every time my hands or my lips attach themselves to her tiny bump.
“How are you feeling today?” I ask.
“The same as when you left for work this morning,” she teases.
“That was four whole hours ago. A lot can change in four hours. Look what four weeks have done.” I reach over and place my palm flat on her tiny bump.
“Four weeks and four hours, the same but different, right?” She laughs.
“Exactly.” I wink, letting her know I get it. I know I’m a crazy man when it comes to my wife, yes wife, and unborn child. I own that and make no apologies. They’re everything to me. Sure, we’re not technically married, but I don’t need that piece of paper saying so. I know it in my heart.
“Gwen,” the nurse calls.
I stand quickly and offer Winnie my hand. “I don’t need help out of chairs, just yet,” she reminds me.
“Doesn’t matter. If I’m here, you’re getting my help.”
“See what I deal with?” She points over her shoulder at me as she talks to the nurse.
“He’s one of the good ones,” she assures her.
I place my palm on the small of Winnie’s back and follow her down the hall. “I know the drill. Which room?” I ask the nurse as we stop at the scale.
“Room two.”
“Love you.” I don’t bother lowering my voice as I say the words, and kiss her temple before leaving her to step on the scale, and pee in a cup.
As soon as I’m sitting in the room, my cell rings. Pulling it out, I see that it’s Gina. I silence the call, making sure my phone is on vibrate, and slide it back into my pocket. There’s nothing at work that can’t wait twenty minutes for this appointment. Immediately my cell rings again, but I ignore it. The third time, I slide it out of my pocket.
“What?” I say, irritated.
“Harrison, the contractor for the Lakeview location just called. He needs your final paint choices,” Gina says, clearly ignoring my irritation.
“Gina,” I say through gritted teeth, just as the exam room door opens, “I told you not to bother me, that Winnie and I had an appointment today. The contractor can wait. I don’t consider paint colors to be an emergency.” She starts to speak, but I hang up on her. I don’t care what her reasons are; they’re not good enough.
“Gina?” Winnie asks.
“Unfortunately,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. “I told her not to call unless
it was an emergency. She called three times back to back, so I answered.”
“And?” she prompts.
“Paint colors.”
“Not an emergency,” she agrees.
“Not even close. I swear she tries my patience. Did I tell you she had a meeting scheduled for this exact time today with the equipment company? Had I not been paying attention I would have stood them up. I caught it and called them myself to explain and reschedule.”
“She knew about the appointment?”
“Yes. It’s on my calendar, the one she has full access to.”
“Knock, knock,” Dr. Taylor says, entering the room. “How are Mom and Dad?” she asks politely.
My heart squeezes in my chest at being referred to as Dad. It’s something we talked about, and I know it’s happening—I see the proof in the changes in my wife’s body, have heard our baby’s heartbeat—but to be called Dad, it’s surreal and exciting.
I sit down while Dr. Taylor goes through the same routine as our last checkup four weeks ago. Asking Winnie the usual questions, she takes measurements. The doctor pulls the Doppler from the cabinet and I can’t stand to sit here this far away from them. Standing, I go to Winnie, kissing her temple and clasping her hand in mine, while we listen to the steady thunderous beat that is Peanut’s heartbeat.
“Everything looks great,” Dr. Taylor says, handing Winnie paper towels to wipe off her belly. I intercept them and do it for her. I can’t explain it, but there’s something inside me that swells with pride at the chance to take care of them. When I think about getting to do it every day for the rest of my life, it’s humbling.
“So, we’ll see you back in four weeks. We’ll do an ultrasound at that appointment and get some images of your baby. We can usually determine the gender at that time as well if that’s something that you’re interested in.”
Winnie looks up at me with question in her eyes. “Whatever you want, Winnie.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, trying to hide her smile. “I’d like to know, so we can paint the nursery and be as prepared as possible,” she says.
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