by Nina Levine
I put my arm around her to hold her close. “We made it, baby, and we’re gonna keep making it.”
She smiles up at me. “Yes, we are.”
Part II
Seven Years Later
19
Winter
* * *
I eye my wife as she makes her way around the club gathering, talking with everyone. Laughing and joking. Sparkly. Almost a 180 from how she was at home before the barbecue. Certainly not like how she was with me this morning.
I suck back some beer and wonder how long this good mood will last. Since we started our latest round of IVF nearly three months ago, she’s been up and down worse than usual during an IVF cycle. The fact she fell pregnant this time has contributed greatly to that because the two times she’s fallen pregnant didn’t end well. I know she’s co-existing with a great deal of fear, which isn’t helping the cause.
“Birdie looks happy,” Ransom says, joining me.
He doesn’t know she’s pregnant; no one does except her mother, Cleo, Lily, and Max. After being very open about the fact we were doing IVF in the beginning, we aren’t anymore. Not after the first time we miscarried and then had to tell everyone. These days we just go about it quietly, keeping the grief each time to ourselves. It’s easier for Birdie that way.
“Yeah,” I agree. He’s right; she’s glowing with happiness. She’s just hit the one-month mark of this pregnancy and each day she glows a little more.
Birdie catches my eye and waves me over. “Claudette needs help with something at her place, so I’m gonna go with her. Can you pick me up later when I call?”
Claudette is Buzz’s old lady, and this is another one of Birdie’s rescue missions. Over the last two years, she’s thrown herself into taking care of the old ladies. Not to mention, she does everything she can to take care of my guys, too. She keeps the clubhouse clean and the kitchen well stocked with food and drinks for everyone. She helps any of the families when they’re struggling for something, whether that’s food, cash, or other resources. I love her for all of this, but I’m concerned she needs to take shit easy now she’s pregnant.
I nod and pull her in for a kiss. “Don’t be all day, angel. I want you at home resting for some of it. You’ve been on your feet for hours.”
“Yes, boss,” she says with a smile.
“I’m deadly serious.”
“I know.” She kisses me again. “I love you.”
I watch her leave and then head into my office. I’ve got a call I need to make.
Javier answers on the second ring. “Winter.”
Seven years of dealing with him and we’ve built a good level of trust. I don’t hear the ice in his voice anymore. “I need to reschedule the time for tomorrow.”
“What time works for you?”
“Any time before three.”
“I’ll see you at two. And I heard King’s in town; don’t bring him.” He knows I’d never do that. King is his least favourite person to deal with; the only reason the cartel still works with Storm is because I handle all our dealings with them.
I end the call and place my phone on the desk while stretching my neck. It’s been a busy couple of weeks taking care of some issues we’ve had with customers. Nothing we’re not used to dealing with, but it’s taken me away from home for days at a time, and that always keeps me awake at night. Especially if I’m away while Birdie and I are in the middle of a cycle.
“You got a minute?” King asks, appearing in the doorway.
“What’s up?” He arrived earlier today and I know there’s something on his mind he wants to discuss.
He enters the office. “I need to cancel the trip we had planned for next week.”
We’d planned to visit some customers up the coast to negotiate new terms. It suits me to put it off. “No problem. When are you thinking to move it to?”
“Sometime in the next month.”
“That works for me.”
“Good.”
“How long are you in town?” I wasn’t aware he was coming. We’ve got nothing happening here that needs his assistance.
“I leave tomorrow. I’m only here to check out a bike for Holly.”
I respect King for many things; the way he loves his family is at the top of the list. “You wanna come over for dinner tonight? I’ll fire up the barbie.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
We agree on a time and he leaves. I shoot Birdie a text.
* * *
Me: King’s coming for dinner.
Birdie: What time?
Me: 6pm
* * *
She calls me. “I don’t know what we have in the fridge that I can cook.”
“I’ll pick something up to cook on the barbecue.”
“The house is a mess, Winter. Like, seriously, there’s shit everywhere.”
“King won’t give a fuck.”
“I’ll give a fuck. I’ll finish up here as fast as possible. Maybe come get me in about half an hour so I can go home and clean.”
“I’ll clean the kitchen when we get home.” She’s exaggerating when she says the house is a mess. There’re a few breakfast dishes to be cleaned.
“God no. I’ll do it, and trust me, a lot more than just the kitchen needs to be cleaned.”
I stretch my neck again. I don’t know if it’s this conversation or something else, but I’m feeling tight as fuck again. “Suit yourself, but the offer’s there.”
“Don’t get pissy with me; I’m not the one who made these plans.”
Fuck. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
“Bye. Oh, and bring that packet of gloves from the kitchen with you. I’ll need them.”
She ends the call without waiting for my response. It seems her sparkly mood has disappeared and I wonder who I’ll get when I pick her up.
20
Birdie
* * *
I pull my dress over my head and throw it on the floor before searching for something else to try. Locating another dress, a looser one that might actually fucking fit, I slip it over my head and check myself in the mirror.
“Jesus! I look like a fucking whale.” I yank this one off, too, also throwing it on the floor.
“You don’t look like a fucking whale,” Winter says, resting against the doorjamb and crossing his arms.
I ignore the way his gaze trails over my clothes littering the walk-in robe floor. “I do.” It’s true; the fertility drugs do it to me every single time I have to take them. They blow me up like a whale. Some days I feel like I’m frumping all over the damn place; some days I wonder how Winter can even look at me and still be attracted to me.
“You’re bloated from the drugs. That doesn’t make you a whale.”
My eyes widen and I stare at him. “So I do look fat?”
“Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I was just trying to—”
I hold my hand up. “Stop talking. You’ve already said enough and now I have to find something in the next ten minutes that doesn’t make me look as bad as everything else I’ve tried on.”
He watches me in the way he usually does when he’s trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say. In the end, he doesn’t speak again; he simply pushes off from the doorjamb and leaves. I’m not sure whether to be happy or whether to cry. I mean, I told him to stop talking, but I didn’t expect him to. And now my hormones are fucking with me over it.
God, you’re a bitch.
Why do you keep doing this to him?
He’s just trying to support you.
“Enough!” I scream at myself in my head. My thoughts are exhausting. I want to rip my mind out of my head most days and ask for an exchange. Either that or sedate it with alcohol. That’s off the table whenever I’m IVFing, which of course is when my mind is the biggest mess. It’s just one of the ways God laughs at me. Oh how that man fucking laughs at me. And yes, I’ve decided he’s a man; a woman wouldn’t be so cruel to couples wanting to bring a child into this world and
lavish love on it.
After searching through the closet and trying five more outfits on, I finally find a dress to wear for dinner. It’s not my favourite, but it’s all I’ve got. I would have preferred more notice for this dinner than Winter gave; something he now knows, because I was sure to make that clear to him when he picked me up from Claudette’s.
The doorbell sounds as I’m choosing some earrings to wear. King’s voice floats down the hall soon after, and then I hear Winter leading him into our home.
I take a deep breath and smooth my dress before making my way out to join them.
King’s eyes meet mine as I step out onto the back deck where they are. We’ve built a solid relationship over the past eight years, and while I wasn’t quite sure of him to begin with, I’ve come to respect him. He’s always had Winter’s back when we’ve gone through hard times with IVF, and never once demanded he put club stuff before me. King’s a hard man, but I like that he puts family first. “Birdie,” he greets me.
“Hey, King,” I say as Winter passes him a beer. Then, to Winter, I say, “I’ll get the salads ready.”
I leave them to do men stuff and head into the kitchen. I’m half way through cutting up the salad when Cleo calls.
“Hey, you,” I say, putting the phone on speaker so I can keep cutting. “Why are you calling me? I thought you guys were taking Christopher to the circus tonight.” Their son turned five this week and this was part of their celebration.
“We were supposed to, but he’s been vomiting all day. Mark’s with him now so I figured I’d squeeze a quick call in to see how you are today.”
I had a meltdown over the phone yesterday after Winter and I fought. It’s just one more in a long string of meltdowns, though, so I’ve pretty much put it out of my mind and moved on. I love that Cleo always follows up to make sure I’m okay. “How did I get so lucky to have you as my bestie? I’m good today. I’ve only lost my shit once and that was because Winter verified how big I look.”
“What did he say? That doesn’t sound like him at all, babe.”
“Well, he didn’t say I was big. Actually, he told me I don’t look like a whale, but he did mention my bloating, so in effect that—”
“In effect, that means nothing. It’s just a fact and you know that to be true. Don’t force a fight on him, Birdie. That’s not fair to him.”
I sigh, knowing every word out of her mouth is the truth. “I don’t want to fight with him.”
“I know.”
“God I hope this is the last time we have to do IVF.”
She turns silent for a beat. Then, tentatively, like she’s concerned about my reaction, she says, “I thought this was the last time ever?”
That was the agreement Winter and I had when I convinced him to go one more time at the beginning of the year. This is our tenth round and besides it being an expensive exercise, it’s a soul-crushing one that has placed more pressure on our relationship than I ever imagined it could. We took an eleven-month break after our last cycle. After I suffered another miscarriage. I needed those eleven months, but I think Winter needed them more. I know he’s deadly serious about this being our last shot—because he doesn’t want to watch me go through it again—but I want a baby and I’m not sure I can stop until we have one.
I switch the phone off speaker and put it to my ear. “It was. I’m not sure, though. I don’t know if I can accept that decision if something happens to this pregnancy.”
“Oh, babe, you need to stay positive.”
The door between the deck and the kitchen slides open and Winter comes inside. I quickly glance at him as I say to Cleo, “I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Make sure you do. We need to finish this conversation. And say hi to that man of yours for me,” she says and we end the call.
“Cleo says hi,” I say to Winter as I put the phone down. My eyes drop to the tray of meat he’s carrying to the fridge. Frowning, I say, “Are we out of gas or something?”
“No, King has to leave.”
“But he just got here.”
Winter closes the fridge and looks at me. “Yeah, and now he has to leave to take care of something.”
King comes through the door. “Let me know how you go with Torres tomorrow,” he says to Winter. To me, he says, “I’ll see you next time I’m in town.”
“Bye,” I say, watching the two of them walk out.
When Winter comes back, he says, “I’ve got steak cooking for us. It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”
I reach for him, needing the contact. It feels like this week has been a big, fat disconnect for us. He was away for two nights at the beginning of the week and then I was busy at work the last two days. On top of that, I know I’ve been moodier than usual this week, and while he’s a patient man with my moods, I think I’m pushing his limits. I’m trying not to—God, how I’m trying—but this pregnancy has brought up so many emotions I never saw coming, and I’m way out of my depth here.
“You good, angel?”
My heart exhales the breath she’s been holding. Angel. The day he stops calling me that is the day I know I’ve broken him. I lean in close. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch today.”
His features remain serious as he nods. “How are you feeling?”
I wasn’t well this afternoon when we came home from the club barbecue, but it passed quickly. “I’m feeling better now.”
“Good.” He glances at the salad. “You want a hand with this?”
“No, you go finish the meat.”
I watch him leave until I can’t see him anymore, checking out his ass in those jeans of his I love. At forty-two, Winter is even better looking to me than when he was twenty. He also works out daily and is packing on more muscle than he’s ever carried.
My phone rings and I’m surprised to see Andrea’s name flash across the screen. My staff don’t usually call me on a Sunday night.
I answer it straight away. “Hey, love. What’s up?”
“Hi, Birdie”—it’s not Andrea’s voice, but rather, her partner’s—“Sorry to call you on a Sunday, but I need to let you know Andrea’s in the ER. She’s had a miscarriage.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Brad.”
“Yeah.” He goes silent for a moment. “I don’t know when she’ll be right for work, but she won’t be in tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. Tell her to take as long as she needs.” I can’t believe this has happened to her. Andrea was nearly twenty weeks pregnant.
“Thanks, Birdie. I know your support means the world to Andrea.”
After we end the call, I place the phone down and grip the kitchen counter, my mind swirling with endless thoughts, my heart breaking for my friend. Andrea and I have worked together for seven years and have become close. She might be one of my staff members, but she’s more a friend now than anything. I’m devastated for her.
Oh God.
I think I’m going to vomit.
I race into the en suite and dry retch. Standing over the toilet, I let my thoughts go to the one place they’re driving towards. The one place I should not allow them anywhere near.
This could happen to you.
Your body is faulty.
Damaged goods.
And it doesn’t want a baby in it.
You know this.
It’s already gotten rid of four babies.
I heave, and this time I vomit. Then the tears fall and I collapse to the floor while hugging the toilet in case I need it again.
I don’t know how long I sit here and cry. By the time Winter finds me, I’ve curled into the foetal position and am a sobbing mess.
“Fuck,” he says as his strong arms come around me and lift me. He carries me into the bedroom and sits on the bed, holding me tightly to him. He doesn’t say anything, but rather strokes my hair to calm me.
When my tears subside enough for me to talk, I look at him. “Andrea had a miscarriage.” The words splinter from me, as broken as I feel.
After all these years together, and all the heartbreak we’ve suffered together, Winter knows how my mind works. “We’re gonna be okay, Birdie. Our baby is gonna be okay.”
I stare at him, wanting desperately to believe him. “I wish I believed that as much as you do.”
His eyes search mine, the love he has for me blazing from them. “I’ll believe it enough for both of us.”
I take hold of his face. “I love you.”
He brings his lips to mine and kisses me. “You wanna stay in here for a while?”
“Yes. With you.”
He repositions us and spoons me. His arms always provide the refuge I need from the world. From the ache that never leaves my chest.
“I was thinking we might head to IKEA next weekend,” he says after a while. “Check out furniture for the nursery.”
I still. We haven’t talked about setting up a nursery since my first pregnancy about a year into IVF. That time, we got as far as buying a cot. When I miscarried at thirteen weeks, I made him get rid of the cot. The second time we fell pregnant, I miscarried much earlier at seven weeks and neither of us got the chance to even consider baby items. “No, it’s too soon,” I say.
His arms tighten around me, like he’s readying to stop me leaving. I know what he’s doing; he’s going to try to force this on me. I won’t be having anything to do with it, though. I know my own mental health and it’s nowhere near ready for this. “I didn’t say anything about buying stuff yet. I just said we could check it out.”
“It’s too soon for that, too.” Panic rises in my chest. He needs to stop talking about this. “Besides, we haven’t worked out our budget for this yet.” Our finances are stretched to the max thanks to the cost of IVF.
Winter turns silent. I wish I knew his thoughts because the silence that sits between us some days steals my breath. When he gives them to me now, they really do suck the oxygen from me. “I need this, Birdie.” Winter pretty much never asks for what he needs. He’s all about giving, and taking care of others. Taking care of me. Especially of me.
