Scandalous Box Set

by Layla Valentine

  “You hate the idea.”

  “Well—”

  She laughed and buried her head in my chest, which was a relief. The last time I’d questioned a decision she’d made she had cried for an hour, talking the whole time about how silly she felt for crying in the first place. I’d found it both frightening and endearing in equal measure.

  “You really would do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

  “I would bring you the moon if it would make you happy.”

  “Mm, no. I think that would probably lead to the end of the world.”

  “I’d risk it,” I murmured.

  She laughed. “Turquoise retro?”

  “Turquoise and chrome? I could live with that.”

  “Yay! Fifties-themed kitchen, here we come! Oh, we better get started. That’ll take a week at least.”

  She pulled a pencil out of her hair and began scribbling notes down on the little notebook she kept on her. As I watched her buzz around, I couldn’t help but fall in love with her all over again.

  I left her to it and strolled through our new mansion. We had chosen it because it was ten minutes to her mother’s house, twenty minutes to my parents’ place, and half an hour to the airport but sat on so much land that it still felt as if we were living in an isolated castle. I had chosen it for convenience. Grace had chosen it because there was so much to be done to it.

  She had spent the last three months making improvements to the place. The nursery alone had taken her four days even with all of New York’s best contractors at her disposal. The house was shaping up to be her ultimate masterpiece, and I found myself falling more and more in love with it the longer she worked on it. She had an artistic magic in her that turned a house into a home.

  What warmed my heart most was how invested Grace was in the guest rooms. She had set aside two suites, one for her mom and one for my parents, and designed them to suit the intended occupants’ tastes. Wood paneling and warm flannel for my parents, springtime colors and floaty fabrics for her mother.

  She had even gone back and torn out the tub, replacing it with an accessible version, after meeting my father for the first time. Forty years of hard labor had damaged his back, and he had trouble getting around some days. Her attention to detail never failed to amaze me.

  “Okay, I have a plan,” she said, walking up behind me.

  “Of course you do,” I said affectionately.

  “I’m going to start calling suppliers and contractors. You want pizza for dinner? I’m feeling like pineapple and anchovies.”

  I made a face but didn’t let her see it. “Pineapple and anchovies, it is. Do you think they have our house flagged as ‘the weird place’ yet?”

  She shot me a look and rolled her eyes, but she was grinning.

  Grace wandered away as she began making her phone calls, and I smiled, content to watch her dive headlong into her passion. My own business had changed significantly in recent weeks. The nearer Grace was to her due date, the less I could bring myself to leave the country. Or the state, for that matter. I had been working remotely and, to my surprise, it had been no less successful and far more efficient.

  “It is the age of the internet,” I said wryly as I ordered our pizzas online. “Now that I have nothing to escape, there’s really no reason for me to ever leave.”

  “There! All set. Did you order the pizzas?”

  “Just now,” I told her. “Did you order your antiques?”

  “No.” She chuckled. “But I did order a big modern fridge with a retro face and a retro stove with all the modern conveniences and a wall oven.”

  “Sounds like the perfect blending of two worlds.”

  “Yes, well, maybe I’ve gotten good at that.” She flashed those pretty eyes at me and my heart filled with love.

  I embraced her, careful not to press too hard against her belly, and kissed her.

  “Could I possibly love you more?” I murmured in her ear.

  She sighed happily and leaned her head on my shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe love is infinitely expanding.”

  “A universe full, all for you.” I nuzzled her hair, then put a hand on her belly. “And for you, daughter of mine. What are we going to name her?”

  “Oh…something Shakespearean, I think.” There was a wicked glint in her eye, and I laughed.

  “And if she asks why we named her that?”

  “Easy! We’ll take her on a trip and let her run around Shakespeare’s Globe while we launch snowballs at each other.”

  “Trying to give her a little brother already?” I teased.

  She laughed, then looked thoughtful.

  “I would certainly enjoy working at making that happen,” I said with a sly smile and a waggle of my eyebrows.

  She swatted me on the arm.

  “All right, all right,” she said. “I was just thinking, that little room across from the nursery could make a very good toddler bedroom, which would leave the nursery free for additional occupants…”

  “How many do you want?” I asked affectionately. I kissed her forehead, and she grinned.

  “Only a few, maybe. Oh! I forgot to order the drawer pulls. Give me a minute, honey.” She hurried off again with that quick little waddle. I would miss that waddle when it was gone.

  Chapter 25

  David

  Four Days Later

  “Put it over there… No, right there! Where the outlet is. Yes, perfect! All right, hand me those cupboard doors and I’ll start—oh!”

  Grace doubled over, dropping the stack of doors on the floor with a clatter. The appliance installers looked at her with fear in their eyes. I rushed to her side.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, righting herself.

  “Your sickly pallor and the sweat on your brow say otherwise. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said briskly. “Let’s get these doors up. Where is my—there it is. Bottom cupboards first, I think.” She squatted down to align the door to the open cupboard. Power drill in hand, she began to attach the door. A moment later, the shrill whine of stripping steel filled the kitchen.

  “Grace? The screw is in, love, it won’t go in anymore.”

  She dropped the drill on the floor with a resounding clatter. I was by her side in a flash, my arms around her. She was shaking all over, eyes wide and fixed on a spot on the floor, beads of sweat glittering on her forehead.

  “We’re calling the doctor,” I said firmly. “You’re in labor.”

  “I’m not. I can’t be. I’m not due for another week. I have to finish this.”

  “Grace, due dates are estimates, you know that. This is your second contraction in ten minutes. It’s time to call the doctor.”

  She growled and curled her body around until her forehead rested on the floor. I didn’t wait for her to answer; I just called her doctor.

  “Hi, yes, my girlfriend is in labor. I haven’t timed them, but the first one was about fifteen minutes ago and she’s in the middle of her third. Hm? Oh. Let me ask. Grace? Has your water broken?”

  She looked at me with a wild expression halfway between panic and fury, then rose to her feet with a forced sort of dignity. As she pushed up from the squat, though, a puddle formed beneath her.

  “Yes,” I told the nurse. “Most definitely. Very well, we’re on our way. Thank you.”

  “But I still have a week,” Grace said as she looked around at her unfinished kitchen.

  “I’ll get people to finish it,” I promised her. “You have bigger things to worry about right now. Let’s get you to that hospital before you have the baby in the car.”

  I could tell she was still reluctant to leave her project in the hands of other people, but the idea of giving birth in the car got her moving. I grabbed the pre-packed bags and helped her to the car, stopping every few minutes to support her through a contraction. They were coming closer together.

  Though I had made the comment about her giving birth in th
e car mostly in jest, I was beginning to worry. I had been under the impression that these things took time, especially the first time around. But the way her eyes changed to a sort of ethereal in-between haze with every contraction made me think the end of this was nearer than I had anticipated.

  “Call my mother,” she said shortly as she sat doubled-over in the passenger seat.

  I told my car to dial the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Ann, it’s David. It’s time. We’re on our way to the hospital now.”

  “Oh! Well don’t talk to me, boy, get going! I’ll see you soon.”

  I smiled at her gruff, loving tone. I could tell she was just as excited as I was, and probably more worried. I hit the gas as we pulled onto the highway and cut the trip by nearly a third by gently nudging the speed limit.

  “David, it hurts,” Grace gasped as we pulled into the hospital parking lot.

  “I know, love. We’re nearly there, just hold on.”

  She made a noise halfway between a groan and a scream. I flagged down an orderly as we pulled into the valet parking lane in front of the labor and delivery building, and he met us at the car with a wheelchair.

  “Big day, huh? Congratulations! Billy will take your car if you like, sir.”

  I handed the boy my keys in a sort of daze and hurried after the orderly. He pushed her to the reception desk, wished us luck, and popped outside once more.

  The next few moments were a blur of questions and a flurry of nurses, but before long we had been taken to a delivery room. My brain was buzzing. I fervently wished that I had spent just a few more hours watching birthing videos.

  “Okay dear, just get undressed and into this gown, then we’ll set the monitors and check on the baby. Do you need help?”

  “I’ll help her,” I said, snapping back to the moment.

  The nurse nodded briskly and left the room. Grace looked at me with big eyes filled with so many emotions that it nearly broke my heart. I held her against me and let her bury her face in my chest.

  “You’re going to do this,” I said firmly. “You’re going to be great.”

  “I’m scared.” Her voice was small, and something fiercely protective rose up inside of me.

  “I’m going to be here with you the whole time,” I murmured. “We’re going to do this together, just like they taught us in all of those Lamaze classes. I’m here for you. You’re going to be fantastic.”

  She began to tremble. At first I thought it was fear, but then she grabbed fistfuls of my shirt and roared into my chest, folding into half a squat. I held her until it passed.

  “Right then, time to get busy,” I said briskly. I whisked her out of her clothes and began to wrap the gown around her, but she pushed it away.

  “Burning up,” she gasped. “No clothes.”

  “As you wish, my love. Let’s get you into bed.”

  “No bed. I want to walk.”

  “And walk you shall, but they need to check on the baby first. Can you lie down long enough for that?”

  She nodded and clung to me as I led her to the bed. Getting her into it was a process, as the contractions seemed to be affecting her whole body now. The nurse came back a moment later and began hooking her up to various sensors.

  “She’s restless,” I told the nurse. “She doesn’t want to stay in bed.”

  “Would you like a birthing ball?” The nurse directed the question to Grace, who nodded.

  “I’ll bring one right up as soon as we see—oh, there’s baby’s heartbeat! Nice and strong. A little fast, but that’s normal. We will need to keep an eye on it, but the monitor cords are nice and long so you’ll have room to move around.”

  Grace opened her mouth to say something just as a contraction hit, and whatever words she intended to say were swallowed up by a primal growl.

  “Oh! That’s a good one. You keep contracting like that, this will be over before you know it. I’m going to go let your doctor know, back in a flash.”

  I rushed to Grace’s side, holding her as she curled around her belly. She was radiating heat and trembling like a leaf, but I had never seen her look stronger. Her eyes shone with an ancient understanding. Her jaw was set in determination. I moved to give her space, but she clung to me.

  “Don’t go,” she gasped. “I need you.”

  It blew me away that she could possibly need me right now. She looked so utterly powerful, so strong and in control. It was humbling to be needed, but I rose to the occasion. Cupping her chin in my hands, I gazed into her eyes.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Music. Please.”

  “Of course, love.”

  I put her playlist on the little portable speaker we had brought with us. I had watched her fine-tune the song choices for hours, putting them all in a very specific order. A slow, crooning love song came on first. She relaxed almost instantly and reached her hands out to me.

  “Dance with me.”

  “You want to dance?”

  I obeyed, but I was skeptical. I helped her out of bed and held her close, rocking gently in time with the music.

  “Yes,” she said. “I want to move. I want to be close to—oh!”

  She went silent, panting through a contraction, still rocking from foot to foot in time with the music. She was bonding to it, I realized. Anchoring herself to the rhythm.

  Fighting my instinct to put her back in bed, I too found the rhythm. We danced together for two songs before an orderly came into the room with the birthing ball.

  Grace used it for a while, bouncing in time with the music as I held her hands. With every contraction, she sought my eyes and I gave my gaze to her unflinchingly. She moved back and forth like that, dancing to bouncing to dancing again, until the doctor arrived to check her progress.

  The guttural growls began again as soon as she was lying on her back with her legs in the air. I wanted to scream at the doctor that she was hurting her, to stop whatever she was doing and let Grace go back to her bouncy little dance, but I held my tongue.

  “Looking good!” the doctor said as she stripped her gloves off. “Six centimeters already. I’ll be back in about an hour to check again. Doing real good, mama! You got this.” She patted Grace’s knee and bustled out of the room again.

  The nurse helped Grace out of the stirrups, asked if we needed anything, then went on her way after we shook our heads.

  A synth-pop song replaced the crooners and Grace’s eyes lit up. “Help me,” she said, holding out her arms for me.

  I helped her out of bed and we began our dance again.

  It seemed like no time at all had passed by the time the doctor came in again, and Grace was beginning to look a little ragged. The contractions had reached a quick, efficient rhythm, three minutes on, thirty seconds off, three minutes on. She had powered through them with her dances, but her eyes were glazing over now and she was turning a concerning gray.

  She cried out when the doctor examined her, and I held her to my shoulder. She shook, clinging to me and sobbing. She was beginning to hyperventilate. I pulled her head back and looked into her eyes firmly.

  “Grace, look at me. Look at me. Right here. You’re going to get through this. You’re doing so well, my love. We’re almost there.”

  Her eyes finally focused and her breathing steadied. She nodded and swallowed. There were suddenly three more nurses in the room, pulling cabinets open, pushing a silver table covered in tools toward the doctor, slipping something under Grace’s hips. The doctor grinned at us from between Grace’s thighs.

  “It’s time! Are you ready? Next contraction, I need you to push.”

  Grace began to panic again, and I gripped her hand tight and made her focus on me. I wished I could take over, take her pain away. All I could do was keep her focused. In this case, I didn’t mind being relegated to support staff. I breathed with her, held her hand, held her eyes.

  She was absolutely magnificent, a glorious warrior queen. I had never loved o
r admired her more than I did in those moments. A tear slid down my cheek when the nurse placed our wet and wriggling daughter on Grace’s chest.

  “She’s a big, healthy baby,” the doctor said. “Dad, keep an eye on her while we finish up down here.”

  Dad? Who is she talking to?

  It only took me a second to realize it was me, but in that second the entire world changed. I was Dad now. These two, woman and child, were mine to protect and love as best I could.

  I slipped an arm under Grace’s shoulders and the other over her arms, holding her and the baby at once.

  Grace smiled up at me, tired but completely present once more. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “She is,” I said, stroking the baby’s impossibly soft hair.

  We sat like that for a few minutes in awe-filled silence. Breaking it, I sighed, overwhelmed with emotion, and turned my gaze to Grace.

  “People always said that I was a man who had everything,” I murmured, kissing her forehead. “But truly, I had nothing until I met you.”

  Her lips trembled in a watery smile and she tipped her head against my chest. “I love you, David.”

  Love didn’t seem like a big enough word anymore. I kissed her again. “And I love you, Grace.”

  Epilogue

  A Year Later

  Grace

  Adriana sat in the garden in a cloud of pink, surrounded by her family. She swatted at flowers and rubbed her little hands on the soft grass. Her big blue eyes took everything in as she picked a clover apart in her dexterous baby fingers.

  I hadn’t realized how much she would change my life. Oh, I knew that my priorities would shift and that I would have to find some work–life balance; but throughout my pregnancy, my focus was always on how to make it work. Now the focus was on enjoying a meaningful life.

  I laughed at my mother who was at that moment crawling through the grass with her new professional-grade camera, not missing anything.

  “I swear, she’s gained ten years of her life back since Adriana was born,” I said.