Scott had found a gym a block away. Most mornings, he went before I was awake, just to be able to be with me when I woke up. I had been having some cramps in the mornings lately, but after a few minutes on my feet, they were usually gone.
I sighed as I checked the calendar one morning. March had just begun and it was still cold out. The warm weather would not start until about April. I groaned as I struggled into an upright position. My back hurt as usual. I slowly wiggled around until my feet hit the ground. My slippers were right by the bedside, where Scott ensured he placed them before leaving every morning. I groaned again as a muscle spasm gripped me. I waited for the sensation to pass before standing. My bladder felt as if it was going to burst if I did not get to the bathroom.
I had barely made it to the toilet and sat before the pee came – and would not stop. It was not until I felt another spasm, more painful than the one before, that I realized what was happening. My water had broken. I tried to remember all the breathing lessons I had done. I waited for the pain to pass, then struggled to stand. I cleaned up as best as possible and was halfway through changing my clothing when another spasm hit. Now I knew that these were not the usual spasms – I was having contractions.
I reached for my phone and texted my mother, then forwarded the same text to Clare and Susan. Just as I punched in Scott’s number, I heard the front door open. Another contraction ripped through me, and I groaned loudly. He was at the bedroom door in an instant.
“Babe? Are you okay?”
I took a deep breath as the contraction passed. I shook my head frantically. He was at my side in an instant. He finished getting me dressed then helped me to the living room. Somehow we got into our jackets, and he grabbed my bag from the closet.
As we pulled into the hospital parking lot, my mother and friends arrived. Clare took one look at me and dashed inside to get assistance. A medical team took over shortly after, and I found myself whisked into a private room. They checked my vitals, did all of the delivery preparations, and strung me up to all sorts of monitoring devices. My mother, Clare, and Susan maintained a vigil. Scott reappeared an hour later. It seemed that Clare had taken an offense to his fresh from the gym aroma and had sent him home to shower and change, as no godchild of hers was going to meet a smelly father.
The nurses checked me every hour and monitored my contractions. Finally, a few minutes before midday, they wheeled me into the labor ward. From the beginning, I had opted for a vaginal, unmedicated delivery. I was rethinking the wisdom of the latter as I had felt nothing but ripping pain for the past hour. I was ready to get this child out of me.
They placed my legs in the stirrups and pulled up my gown. I struggled with the instructions, as when I was told to relax is when I wanted to push, and when I was told to push is when I wanted to relax. I felt intense pressure and pain in my pelvis as inch by inch, I pushed our child out into the world.
Scott was with me right through it all. He was like a commentator, moving back and forth between his child and me.
“We have a full head of hair!” The nurse reported.
“Hair! A full head of hair!” Scott parroted.
I just groaned as I bore down. Finally, the head was out. I sensed a flurry of movement as the nurse cleared the mouth and nose. With the next push, one shoulder popped out, then the other. After that, it was a flurry of movement. Tears sprang to my eyes as I heard my child’s first cry.
“It’s a little princess!” The nurse swaddled and placed her on my chest. “Come and cut the cord, daddy!”
I raised my head as Scott snipped the umbilical cord. His chest heaved as he grinned amidst his tears.
“We have a daughter. A daughter.” Gently he took the crying infant from my arms, tears pouring down his cheeks. She wriggled in his grasp, then her cries subsided. She looked up at him as he held her tiny hand in his. At that moment, the connection was made between father and daughter.
The medical team took her and recorded her statistics. They cleaned her up and dressed her before returning her to her father. I was cleaned up and dressed likewise and back in my room within the hour. Shortly after, my parents were allowed into the room. After they left, Susan and Clare came in. No one stayed for longer than a few minutes as they knew I needed to rest.
When the last visitor left, Scott took a seat. He watched as I lifted the child to my breast. She quickly latched on, and soon the only sound in the room was of her suckling. When she had finished her meal and was asleep, Scott reached across to caress my cheek.
“You were so amazing today. I could never do what you did. I am in awe of you.”
I blushed under his scrutiny. “Have you called Vivian and Michael?” He nodded. “What about your parents?” He hesitated. “Scott? Did you call your parents?”
“I did. It went to voice mail. I left messages telling them that their granddaughter had arrived.” He sighed as he looked at infant sleeping in my arms “Heaven help me, I’m going to be the best father I can be. Kayla-Sue Clarian Dawson, you will have the best father ever.”
I smiled at the names we had chosen. We thought it was safe to say that no one would feel left out. I yawned, and Scott stood. He took the baby from me as I yawned again. Gently he placed her in the bassinet. My eyes struggled to stay open after that. It had been a long yet gratifying day.
Our little family settled into a daily routine of feeding and changing. It all revolved around Kayla-Sue. She was a happy baby. I watched as Scott took care of her like the precious gem she was. I had wanted to go back to work as soon as possible, but I was outnumbered. I took a step back from being the head chef and allowed my staff to step up to the plate, while I focused on motherhood.
The first week of April was fraught with activities. The week started with Scott turning thirty-three, and we threw a small party at the café one evening. Michael and a few of his closer associates flew in for the party. They stayed over a few extra days for Spring Feast on the Saturday, and Kayla-Sue’s official introduction to the world the next day. She was now six weeks old.
I closed the café that Sunday morning and transformed the space into a wonderland. We had a small coming of age ceremony, and then the brunch followed after. It was a festive affair.
Clare and Susan spoke a little about our childhood and how I was always the mother in any role-playing scenario. On the other hand, Scott’s friends roasted him. The central theme was that no one had ever thought the day would come when Scott would be a father. I took it all in good spirits and added a jibe or two myself.
As the celebration drew to a close, Scott stood.
“Ladies and Gentlemen and Michael and Steven,” the group roared with laughter. “Kindly lend me your ears.” The room went silent.
“Helen? Could you and Kay-Sue join me, please?”
Puzzled, I stood beside him, soothing the baby gently.
He looked at the gathering.
“I would like to thank everyone for being here to celebrate this noteworthy occasion. For those of you who have intimate knowledge about how this occasion came to be, we can discuss the price for your silence afterward.” Again, the group roared with laughter. Scott settled them down with a wave of his hand.
“No one was more shocked than I when two years ago, this woman danced her way into my life. I was a bit dense at the time as to what was happening. I was a confirmed bachelor and I thought she was just another woman. But I was wrong. The universe is a beautiful place. I have found that when we err, it presents the opportunity for us to mend the error of our ways. Sometimes only once is all it takes. And so a year ago, when fate determined that the woman who had haunted my thoughts for a year would cross my path again, I was not going to let the chance slip again. So, when Helen came back into my life, I held on to her. But then, the egotistical bastard that I was, I almost let my stubborn, foolish pride get in the way of what my heart wanted: Helen. It took fate’s intervention yet again for me to pull my head out of my ass. This time, I won’t let her go, ev
er. I stand here to declare to all present, that this woman owns my heart. This little one owns a piece of it too, but her mother has my complete love and devotion. Helen, I lost you twice, I don’t intend to lose you ever again.”
Time seemed to stand still then. I watched as if in slow-motion, Scott go down on one knee. My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. Someone took the baby from me as Scott reached for both my hands. You could hear a pin drop.
“Helen, you’ve given me a gift I never thought I was worthy of having: fatherhood. Would you do me the honor of giving me another gift: being a husband? Helen, will you be my wife?”
I trembled as he held my hand in his. The last two years played over and over in my mind. I had to be honest and confess that I had not seen this coming. I had had no expectations of him beyond taking our life one day at a time. Yet, here he was, asking me to be part of his forever.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes!”
The café erupted in cheers and celebration. Scott pulled a ring from his pocket and slipped it onto my finger. As he stood, he pulled me into his arms. The whistling and heckling erupted as he lowered his head to mine. When he had satisfied himself, he raised his head and whispered, “I love you”. We moved around the room, accepting congratulatory statements from everyone. The party broke up shortly after.
That night after we had put the baby to bed, I lay on his chest, looking at my hand. He played with my curls, and I sighed. I leaned up to brush my lips against his.
“I love you Scott Dawson.”
Epilogue – Helen
I slid the zipper on the suitcase open as soon as we were in our room. I dug through the clothing and found my cosmetics case. My lips felt dry, and I knew that my face was shiny. I gasped and giggled as Scott wrapped his arms around me.
“What are you up to, Mrs. Dawson?”
I laughed as he spun me around to face him. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“What do women do when they’re in Paris, Mr. Dawson? Especially on their honeymoon?”
He rolled his eyes. “I have a feeling my cards are going to burn for the next two weeks.”
“Only good stuff, my love, only good stuff. Now let me freshen my lips before we head down for lunch.”
He gave me a quick peck before releasing me. I took up the cosmetic case and headed to the bathroom. I smeared on a fresh coat of lip gloss, then took out a small tube of perfume oil with my favorite scent and rolled it onto my wrists. I blotted my face with a little powder and examined my reflection.
The reflection looking back at me did not look like a newlywed twenty-nine-year-old mother of a seven-month-old child. One would have thought that with giving birth, then planning and executing the wedding of the century, that I would look more worn out. Instead, my face was glowing, and I had worked hard to regain my pre-pregnancy body. Our home gym took care of that.
After Scott had proposed, it had been a whirlwind of activity. I had to quickly adjust to the idea of being the fiancée of a celebrity. After all the months of careful secrecy, somehow, the engagement was leaked. The press had descended on Creek Town. We were in the spotlight and splashed across the front page of every magazine in the country. Eventually, the nine-day wonder had died down, and our lives went back to normal – until our wedding a week ago.
To avoid the paparazzi frenzy, Scott invited the media to cover the ceremony and had given a brief interview before the reception. The pictures had been tastefully presented in the newspaper. There was even a reprint of the write-up about Andy’s with my picture next to it.
I removed the hairpins from my bun, allowing my curls to fall to my shoulders and down my back. I smiled as Scott’s reflection came into view. He stood behind me and fluffed out my hair. He wrapped his arms around my mid-section, and I leaned back into him. I giggled as his fingertips found their way beneath the hem of my blouse and tickled my stomach lightly.
“I thought we were going for lunch.”
He nuzzled my neck. “You said you wanted lunch. A far as I’m concerned, lunch can wait. I’m much more interested in dining on something else.” His deft fingers undid the buttons of my blouse and pulled the ends apart. I watched our reflection as his fingers danced across my flesh. I leaned back and closed my eyes as I realized that he was right. Lunch could wait.
THE END
Full Court Press
Description
Benjamin “B-Wood” Wood is a rising college basketball star. He is diligent and hard-working, and won’t let anything get in his way of his dreams. He aims to be drafted in his first year, hoping to move onto the NBA. He’s completely focused until he goes to a pool party and meets Simone – a gorgeous, full-figured blogger. Simone’s confidence blindsides B-Wood, and they completely hit it off. However, Simone has a surprising challenge for B-Wood.
Just as things seem to be going well for B-Wood and he feels like he’s got everything, he suffers a huge disappointment. It throws him off his game, but Simone is there to encourage him. As he tries to recover, determined to bring his team to the play-offs, B-Wood makes a dumb decision that could destroy everything.
An African American romance novel features a college basketball star and a full-figured blogger. The novel is divided in three parts, part I, part II and part III.
Part I
Description
Benjamin Wood, known as B-Wood to all of his friends, is a rising basketball star. He is one of the rare freshman basketball players that actually gets to play in his college games. He came to college with a plan: within the first year, he was going to get drafted. He was going to make sure that he stayed on that path with no distractions, but after his teammate and best friend convinces him to go to a pool party, he meets Simone.
Simone is a beautiful full figured blogger. She is not ashamed of her plus size figure, she flaunts it. Simone and Benjamin hit it off instantly but she surprises him with something that may be a challenge for him.
Chapter 1
The sound of the basketball dribbling always calmed me down. It was like the second it hit the floor, all of my troubles went away. There is nothing that I love more than coming out on the basketball court. It didn’t matter if it was a professional court, like this one in my college, or back home in the streets of Brooklyn, New York. I could easily zone out here and let the rest of the world fade away. It was just me, the game, and the basketball; and right now that’s all that matters.
I’m Benjamin Wood, B-Wood to all my close friends, and I’m 20 years old. I’ve loved basketball all my life. Ever since I was a baby, it was all I could think about. In fact, my Mom has a picture of me holding a little plush basketball when I was only three months old. It’s a running family joke that it was meant for me to be a pro basketball player. It seemed so destined and the fact that I am really good at it, made it even more true. My father taught me to love the game and instilled the values of it in me.
When I was younger, my father took me to the basketball court in my neighborhood every single Saturday. If the weather wasn’t great, he would show me basketball games on TV and break down the plays for me. He showed me what each dribble meant, how to do some moves, and how to play the field. He made sure that I knew that a good basketball player wasn’t just about getting the shot in, but he knew how to play the game.
“You see,” He told me one day while we were playing basketball in the park, “I don’t want you to only concentrate on making the shot.”
“But I thought you win games by making the most shots.” Eleven-year-old me told him while I sunk another three point shot. He caught the ball and held it.
“That’s one of the way you win a game, yes. But, to be honest with you, it’s not the only way and it’s such a small fraction of how the game is won. When you are out there, you have to see what is available to you. You have to see if you can make the shot, or if it’s much better passing it to someone else. You have to see who is open and whether or not they will get blocked. There is so much more to basketba
ll than just making shots.” He passed the ball to me, “Now imagine that you’re on a team and they got you blocked on both sides, what do you do?”
“I make the shot.” I threw my arms in the air pretending to make the shot.
“And you miss because they smacked it out of your hand. The other team now gets the ball and wins the game. You have to think outside the box and be more of a team player.”
I carried those lessons with me all throughout my basketball career. At first, I was just playing for my school, but pretty soon I joined leagues so that I could play in the summer. I couldn’t stop myself. By the time I got to high school, I got a following.
I was pretty sure that in high school, I was going to get drafted. I really thought I would be the next Lebron James. I won basketball contests left and right. I won the dunking contest, free throw passes, just all of them. It was almost a sure bet, but that’s not what happened. Instead, I got a full ride scholarship to school. As much as I wanted to be drafted right out of high school, I’m grateful for the scholarship to this Georgia University.
“Hey, there’s my main main B-Wood!” Aaron, my best friend and fellow teammate, yelled as he stepped into the basketball court. “What you doing out here all by yourself?” he asked, watching me sink in another three point shot.
“You know me, I like to come out here to clear my mind. Besides, I felt like shooting around a little bit before our game on Friday.” I told him while dribbling the ball.
“You are all work no play.” He rolled his eyes, “You do know that college is for much more than basketball.”
“Oh, so you want me to concentrate on my studies?” I laughed because everyone around campus knows that Aaron wasn’t the most dedicated student.
“Not at all,” he chuckled, “but come on, you have to party, meet girls, do something else besides dribble all day.”
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