A Story Like Ours

by Robin Huber

  “Well, Lucy, you’re not dilated at all,” Dr. Fletcher says, pulling his gloves off. “As far as I can tell, you’re still two to three weeks out.”

  I exhale a relieved breath and so does Sam.

  “It’s your first baby, they usually take their time. In fact, I don’t want you to be discouraged if you’re still pregnant on your due date.” He grabs a pamphlet and hands it to me. “I want you to read this. It’s explains the stages of labor, so you’ll know when it’s the real thing.”

  “Okay,” I say, taking it from him.

  “Now, are you ready to take a look at your baby?”

  I bob my head and smile. “Yes.”

  Sam smiles at me while Dr. Fletcher turns on the ultrasound machine and squeezes warm jelly on my stomach. “How does that feel? Okay?”

  “Mm-hmm, it’s fine.”

  He presses the wand to my stomach and the fast swooshing sound of the baby’s heartbeat echoes through the room. “That’s a great sound, isn’t it?” he says, smiling at us.

  “The best,” Sam answers, and I squeeze his hand.

  “There she is,” he says, pointing to the black-and-white monitor. “See her face?”

  “I see it.” I gasp, watching her open and close her mouth.

  “Is she sucking her thumb?” Sam asks, astonished.

  “Yeah. Look, you can see her whole hand.” He freezes the frame. “Five perfect fingers.”

  I stare at the screen with awe. “She’s perfect.”

  He moves the wand around some more and takes a few measurements. “Everything looks really good.”

  “Could you maybe just check her heart?” Sam asks, and I glance up at him, because I know he’s thinking about Tristan.

  “Sure let’s take a look,” Dr. Fletcher says, clicking something on the computer that lights up the screen with red and blue. “This shows her blood movement. See it in the umbilical cord?”

  “Yes,” I say, feeling Sam tense beside me.

  “You can see it moving through her heart,” he says, pushing the wand around on my stomach. “And it’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to. Her heart looks great.” He smiles at Sam. “Nice and strong.”

  I look up Sam. “Just like her dad.”

  Dr. Fletcher prints a few pictures for us and turns off the ultrasound machine. “Everything looks great, guys. A few more weeks and you’ll get to meet your baby girl.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Fletcher,” Sam says, shaking his hand.

  “My pleasure.”

  “Dr. Fletcher, you’ll definitely be the one delivering the baby, right?” I ask, sitting up.

  “I only have one other patient due this month, and she’s being induced tomorrow. After that, I’m all yours, Lucy.”

  “Okay,” I say, smiling. “Just making sure.”

  “I’ll see you next week, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, and champ?” He holds his fist out in front of Sam. “Knock his ass out tomorrow.”

  Sam smiles and hits Dr. Fletcher’s fist with his. “You got it, Dr. Fletcher.”

  * * *

  “What do you think about this one?” I ask Sam, who reaches for the tag on the cream-colored crib and begins reading about its safety features.

  He puts his hand on the side rail and gives it a tug to test its durability. “Looks good.”

  “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask, touching the floral applique on the front of the crib that matches the one on the back.

  “It’s all hand-sculpted,” a salesperson says, joining us. She smiles and asks, “When are you due?”

  “Oh, um—”

  “A couple of months,” Sam answers, and I smile along with the lie. Even though people know I’m due soon, he doesn’t want the media catching wind of my exact due date.

  “Well, this particular piece would have to be ordered, but it should arrive well before your little one. And it’s on sale,” she says exuberantly, gesturing to the four-thousand-dollar price tag that I didn’t see before.

  I look at Sam and suggest, “Maybe we should look at a few more before we decide.”

  “Okay, well, let me know if you have any questions,” the salesperson says, before leaving us.

  “Sam, this crib is four thousand dollars,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s too much.”

  “Not for our only daughter. If this is the crib you like, let’s get it.”

  “Let’s just look at a few more, okay? We don’t even know if this crib would arrive in time.”

  “Well, what about that one?” he asks, pointing across the showroom to an antique white crib that has tufted upholstery on the back with arched molding that resembles a beautiful headboard standing about a foot higher than the slats in the front. It’s the perfect mix of vintage and modern.

  “Oh, Sam, I love that one,” I say, crossing the showroom to go look at it. I’m delightfully surprised when I see that’s it’s priced much lower than the last one we looked at.

  I wait for Sam to inspect the safety features.

  “What do you think? Should we get this one?” I ask, hoping he likes it as much as I do.

  He smiles and puts his hand on the mattress, rubbing it over the pink sheet that’s covered in tiny white flowers. “Yeah, I can see her in this.”

  I beam at him, feeling like my heart my explode. “So can I.”

  “Let’s get this whole set,” he says, gesturing at the coordinating dresser and changing table, which together costs a small fortune.

  I nod over the sticker shock, like I have a hundred times since we started buying furniture for our new house, and ask, “Are you sure?”

  “Lucy, stop worrying about the price tag. This furniture’s going in our baby girl’s room. I want for the very best for her.”

  I smile softly over my reluctance. “Violet is one lucky little girl.”

  “No, no, no. Her name is Caroline.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I thought you like Ava.”

  “I don’t know, I think Caroline has a nice ring to it.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to see what sticks when we see her.”

  “Okay.” He laughs. “I’ll go get the saleslady.”

  “Okay.”

  I look at the crib again, admiring it, and spot a plush white glider in the corner of the display with a matching ottoman. I walk over to it and sit down, and I’m instantly enveloped in its comfort. I put my feet up and start rocking backward and forward, and my eyes close automatically. Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff.

  “We’ll take that too,” Sam says, and I peek my eyes open at him. He’s got a big smile on his face that’s accompanied by my favorite pair of dimples.

  I smile at him and say softly, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 22

  Lucy

  Good morning,” Sam says, joining me in the baby’s nursery. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I say, folding a small white onesie and putting it away in the dresser, which Sam had delivered yesterday, just hours after we bought it. He wanted everything to be done before he left for New York today.

  He pulls the folded onesie out of the drawer and holds it up between us. “I can’t believe she’ll be this small.” He lays it on my stomach and it stays in place.

  I fold it again and put it back in the drawer. “If she’s so little, why am I so big?” I groan, bending over to get another onesie out of the laundry basket.

  He laughs and wraps his arms around me. “You aren’t that big.”

  “I feel like a whale.”

  “Well, you don’t look like one,” he says, kissing the top of my head. He releases me and I pick up another onesie to fold. “Luc, I have to leave soon. My flight’s in a couple of hours. Tristan and Miles are on their way over.”

  “Okay,” I say, glancing up at him.

  “Hey.” He reaches for my hand. “It’s not going to be like last time.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “You we
re right.” He pulls me close. “I shouldn’t have fought Brody Crawford. I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now, Lucy. I’ve never been more ready.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “Okay.”

  “Lucy, if you don’t want me to do it, I won’t do it. Okay? I won’t go…if that’s what you really want. Because as much as I want to win tonight, it’s not more important than you.”

  I close my eyes and put my head on his chest, ignoring the contraction that’s slowly moving across my stomach. “No, Sam, that’s not what I want.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  I rest my chin on his chest and look up at him. “I want you to win too. I want it so badly for you. And I know how much you need it. Especially since it’s your last match. I’m just worried. I can’t pretend that I’m not.”

  “You don’t have to worry this time, Lamb.”

  “That’s what you always say.”

  “I know. But I’m asking you to trust me. It’s going to be different this time.”

  “Just promise me you’ll fight smart. Promise me you won’t get hit in the head a lot.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He laughs softly.

  “It isn’t funny, Sam.”

  He closes his eyes and falls into the glider in front of the window. “I know.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t know what it was like to see you after the last fight. You could barely speak,” I say, recalling how frightening it was to see him like that. “You could hardly lift your head up.”

  “I know, Lucy.”

  “Please stop saying that, because you don’t know. You don’t know what it was like for me.”

  “Come here,” he says, holding his hand out. I take it and he pulls me down into his lap. “Come here,” he says again softly, wrapping his arms around me. He rocks back and forth. “I don’t know what that was like for you. But it must have been pretty scary.”

  “Yes…it was.”

  “My number one job is to protect you. From anything that might hurt you, including moments like that. I’m sorry I didn’t do my job that night.”

  “Your number one job should be to protect yourself. I need you here with me, okay? Our baby needs you here. In one piece. Promise me you’ll fight smart tonight.”

  “I promise. I’ve learned my lesson, Lucy. I wouldn’t be going into this match if I wasn’t sure I could beat Valentine.”

  “How are you so sure?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it, I just feel it inside. I think maybe…maybe its Joe. I think that maybe he’s watching out for me.”

  I swallow down the emotion that’s suddenly choking me. “I’m sure he is.”

  “And I’ve got Tristan this time. He was pretty upset after the Crawford fight. He was pissed, actually.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. He said he plans on being around a long time and doesn’t want to see me punch-drunk either. He wants me to fight smarter.”

  I smile softly. “Because he loves you too.”

  “Yeah, he does. So I’m pretty damn lucky to have him in my corner tonight.”

  I nod against his chest and sigh. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

  “What are you talking about? You know you’ll be there.” He presses my hand to his chest over his heart. “You’re in there deep. Where I go, you go.”

  I smile over the fear that’s pulsing through my veins. “I love you, Sam Cole.”

  “I love you too, Lucy Cole.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Not yet.”

  “See, I’ve been thinking about that, and I’m not sure I’m okay with it anymore.”

  “Sam, if you think I’m putting on a wedding dress before this baby is born, you have another thing coming.”

  “I’m not asking for a wedding.”

  “Well what are you asking for?”

  “Lucy, I don’t want our baby’s last name to be Cole if yours isn’t.”

  I smile softly. “The baby won’t know the difference.”

  “I want us to be a family.” He rubs his hand over my tight stomach. “The Cole family.”

  “You want me to change my name?”

  “I want to get married, Lamb. We don’t need a wedding. I don’t care about that.”

  “Me neither,” I say, wrapping my hand behind his neck. “I never even wanted a wedding.”

  “Well, it’s settled then.” He holds my face and rubs his thumb across my cheek. “We’re getting married.”

  I smile and drop my forehead to his. “Nothing would make me happier.”

  “Sam, you up there?” Miles calls from downstairs.

  “You know, I really thought we’d take the keys away when we moved,” I say, shaking my head.

  Sam kisses me and stands up, bringing me to my feet with him. “We’re getting married!” He swats my bottom and it makes me laugh. “Miles,” he calls down the hall, “we’re getting married!”

  I follow him downstairs, but not nearly as fast. By the time I get there, he’s already outside talking to Tristan. “Hey, Miles.”

  Miles holds his hands out and looks at me. “Luc, you’re getting bigger every time I see you.”

  “Gee, thanks, Miles.”

  “I meant the baby,” he says, pulling me into a hug. “Come on.”

  “Did I hear somebody say they’re getting married?” Tristan asks, walking through the front door with Sam.

  “Hey, Tris.” I laugh. “I guess so.”

  “When exactly is this happening?” Miles asks.

  “Tomorrow. As soon as we’re back,” Sam says excitedly.

  “How about next weekend? We need to find somebody to do it.”

  “Okay. Next weekend it is.”

  “Now that we’ve got that worked out, you want to go get your bag?” Miles asks, looking at his watch. “We gotta go.”

  Sam gives me a firm kiss, then he bends down and kisses my belly. “I’ve got to go, baby.”

  I laugh and watch him run up the stairs to get his bag. But as soon as he’s gone, the fear returns, weighting my shoulders. I look at Tristan and Miles and plead, “Please don’t let this be a repeat of last time.”

  “Lucy, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Miles says unconvincingly.

  “Are you kidding me right now, Miles?”

  “Lucy, I’ve known you and Sam most of my life,” Tristan says, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I love you both. I am not going to let that happen, okay?”

  I duck my head and blink back tears that I’ve been holding in all morning.

  “Come here,” he says, wrapping his strong arms around me, and I’m comforted to know that he’s in good health again.

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” I ask him.

  “I’m more than ready. Tonight’s our night, Luc.” He holds up his fist. “This one’s for Joe.”

  * * *

  My phone rings on the kitchen table a few a feet away from me, but I’m too busy gripping the kitchen counter to care. I inhale a slow, deep breath as a contraction passes, and turn off the faucet over the sink, which I abandoned when the contraction snuck up on me. I turn around and lean against the counter and close my eyes, but my phone rings again, demanding my attention. I go grab it and answer it. “Hey, Bas.”

  “Are you going to come answer the door? I’ve been standing here knocking.”

  “Yeah,” I say, making my way across the house.

  I hang up and open the front door. Sebastian is standing on my front porch in the dark, lit by the glow of the carriage lights. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you knocking.”

  He bats away a bug and grips the takeout in his hands. “Well I suppose it’s hard to hear all the way across your giant house.”

  “Ha. Ha.” I step aside and he walks into the foyer.

  “You okay?” he asks, giving me a concerned look. “You look flushed.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I close the door behind him and lock it.

  “Well, I hope you’re hungry.” He holds
up the bag in his hand. “I brought Indian.”

  “Hunger is sort of a constant state with me these days,” I say, following him to the kitchen. “So…yeah.”

  He laughs and puts the bag down on the kitchen island. “Have you talked to Sam?” he asks excitedly.

  “Yeah, just a few minutes ago. But the commissioner was coming in so he had to go.”

  “Oh, my God,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “This could be the last fight of his career. I can’t believe we’re not there.”

  “This is the last fight of his career,” I confirm. “And please don’t rub it in. I’ve been stressed about it all afternoon.”

  “Sorry.” He gives me a small shrug, “I won’t mention it again. This is a stress-free zone,” he says, waving his hands over the counter and food. “It’s not good for the baby, remember?”

  I inhale a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “I know.”

  “He’s going to be fine.”

  “Yeah,” I say, trying to convince myself.

  “How did he sound when you talked to him?

  “Good. Ready.”

  “Tonight’s going to be different. I can feel it.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I say, trying to let go of my worry.

  “I usually am.” He winks. “Come on, let’s take our plates to the living room so we can watch the preshow before the fight starts.” He rubs his hands together excitedly.

  “Okay. You want something to drink?” I ask, on my way over to the fridge.

  “Water’s fine.”

  I open the fridge to get him a bottle of water and another Braxton Hicks contraction squeezes my stomach. I pause and close my eyes and wait for it to pass, but my eyes pop open when it squeezes me harder, forcing the air from my lungs with a quiet breath.

  “You okay?” Bas asks, waiting for me to turn around.

  “Mm-hmm,” I say. “Just looking for some water.”

  He pulls the other refrigerator door open. “It’s right there,” he says, reaching over my shoulder to grab it.

  “Oh…” I release my grip on the door handle as the contraction passes. “I guess I didn’t see it.”

  “Hey,” he says, putting his hand on my arm. “Sam’s going to be fine.”

  I inhale a deep breath and exhale it quietly. “You really think so?”