He kissed her. “I don’t know about that last part, but this is a big deal. Couples try for years to conceive, and we hit a home run our first time at bat. Fate has spoken. This is meant to be.” The way Father Jim had always told him: Step out in faith and trust.
“My life is perfect. I love you.”
“I love you, too. You’re going to be a terrific mother.”
She ran a finger down his chest and hooked it behind his belt. “I do believe you offered me a special massage...”
Panic swamped him. “Should we? I mean, don’t you think, um...won’t it, like, hurt the baby? I mean, I’m kinda, you know, not exactly small, and...” His face contorted as words failed him.
“Now isn’t that cute? The biggest, baddest, most feared legal eagle in the city reduced to a stammering puddle.” She stroked his suddenly fevered face, cooling everywhere she touched. “Hey, studly, even you aren’t big enough to reach our little bundle of joy. And it truly is a little bundle right now.”
“We have to come up with a nickname. I am not going to call this little miracle ‘it’ until we know for sure. How far along do you think you are?”
She picked up one of the testers. “This one says two dash three, so I’m guessing our wedding night. Apparently, not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
He stroked her stomach. “Hey, little Vegas, I’m glad you followed us home.”
She closed her hands over his. “Me too. Now maybe Vegas’s daddy will follow me into the bedroom.”
CHAPTER 56
STEPHANIE EASED HERSELF off Ethan and nuzzled into him with a sigh. “I think celebration orgasms are even better than victory orgasms. I’m one happy cowgirl.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “No doubt about it, celebration orgasms are the best. My only objection to this position is I can’t see your expression when you come. I love watching the pleasure wash over your face and knowing that I put it there.”
“Soon, I’m going to be too fat and disgusting for you to want to touch me.”
He levered himself up on his elbow and pushed her hair out of her face. “That is never going to happen. The bigger you get, the more beautiful you will become, and the more I will love you. You are giving me the greatest gift a woman can give a man. How could I ever think you could be anything other the most awesome woman on earth?”
How indeed? She didn’t care what the mean girls had said in high school. Or the way Quinn had treated her at prom. Her board of directors failed coup, Smitty’s betrayal, and Irene’s agenda all faded into nothing. She was loved. Security and serenity enveloped her, wrapping her in a cocoon that would shield her from the hurt and give her the strength to slay whatever dragons came her way. Confidence engulfed her.
“Why do you always sleep in a ball? I’m kinda glad you’re not a bed hog, but I want you to know you can relax and spread out. I won’t hurt you,” Ethan said.
She knew Ethan wouldn’t hurt her, but how could she explain?
“This was always party central. The booze, the music, the drugs. My parents and their friends indulged in anything they wanted. But I was never a party girl. I’d rather be upstairs reading. Everyone expected me to be like my parents, but I wasn’t. Most nights, while the party raged downstairs, I curled into a ball with a pillow over my head to block out the noise. I guess that makes me kind of boring.”
“You are the least boring person I know, especially in this bed. Stretch out here in my arms and we’ll have our own private parties. The kind that will fill this house with shouts and laughter of our children.”
Stephanie straightened her legs out to their full length. Her arms wrapped around him. It was like a flag unfurling in a gentle breeze. The frightened child who surfaced from time to time faded into a mist. Her muscles relaxed as she floated on a black sea into sleep safe and secure in her husband’s arms.
CHAPTER 57
AFTER THREE WEEKS OF living with Megan and Pete at the other end of the hallway, Stephanie was finally getting used to having her sister-in-law around.
Megan usually stayed in her suite with Pete and only came out for meals. Why not? The suite that Irene and Smitty had killed for was nearly as big as the second floor of the house she’d shared with Ethan; a house they’d sold to Ethan’s PA, Nicole, for a hundred dollars.
Megan had only knocked on their bedroom door in the middle of the night twice, and both times involved problems with Pete, not scary noises. Stephanie missed having the baby in the adjoining room but sleeping through the night was heavenly. She knew it was a luxury that had a short future.
They’d developed an uneasy truce over Smitty’s deception. After all, they’d both been innocent victims of Smitty’s devious plot. Irene had marked Megan and Pete for death as well because she’d deemed them an impediment to Smitty’s rise to the top. In her view, Smitty would need someone more suitable than an abandoned foster kid to stand next to him as he conquered the financial world.
Stephanie snorted. Smitty spent every dollar he got his hands on almost as fast as it hit his bank account. Plus, the man couldn’t balance his checkbook to save his soul and had frequently forgotten to pay his bills on time, racking up thousands of dollars’ worth of late charges he’d expected her to take care of.
But Irene had been blind to Smitty’s lack of financial skills, simply unwilling to admit he would have run Kerrigan Financial Services into the ground in no time. And wouldn’t that have had Grandpa Jamison spinning in his grave? Because the only thing he’d truly cared about was the success of his business.
Either Irene had gotten sloppy in her old age or she hadn’t considered Megan worthy of her usual in-depth investigation. In retrospect, it was obvious she hadn’t figured Ethan into her equation, collapsing mere seconds after realizing Megan was his sister. Chalk up another victim to her husband’s evil reputation. A reputation that was nearly laughable considering the reality.
If only the world could know how kind and generous Ethan really was.
The prospect of eventually inheriting Irene’s estate made Megan feel a little better about the deal Ethan had agreed to as part of their marriage contract. Both Irene’s and Smitty’s wills were wending their way through probate, not one of Ethan’s strong suits, but he didn’t want to hand the case off to another attorney. He wanted to keep as many of the details out of the public record as possible. So the process ground out slowly as he carved out bits and pieces of time to deal with it. She half-suspected he did that on purpose to keep Megan safely under his wing.
Not that she minded that, but she and Megan had different ideas on how to raise Pete. He had gotten used to immediate attention every time he so much as whimpered, but Megan insisted it was good to let him cry a little. It broke Stephanie’s heart to hear the poor guy’s wails. But as much as it hurt, Stephanie knew she had to let it go. Pete was not her baby.
She patted her still flat stomach. Well, relatively flat. She’d never had a flat stomach. She’d soon have a little one of her own that she could coddle and cuddle as much as she wanted. And, oh, how she wanted to coddle and cuddle little Vegas.
She smiled at the nickname Ethan had given their baby. They had certainly hit the jackpot, leaving Las Vegas with far more than they’d arrived with.
The microwave beeped, signaling her peppermint tea was ready. It had been a gift from Megan, who claimed it had been a lifesaver during the worst of her morning sickness. As Stephanie turned toward the sound, the room began to spin. She grabbed for the counter to steady herself as a wave of nausea and dizziness, more like a tidal wave, crashed over her. She would be so glad to leave this part of pregnancy behind. Each day brought something new to irritate her. The smell of food, cologne, perfume, coffee, nearly everything sent her running for the bathroom these days.
The sensation passed long enough for her to grab her tea and one of the ginger cookies Ethan had made for her last night. He’d scoured the internet for natural ways to alleviate morning sickness and informed her th
at ginger was supposed to combat nausea. It was so sweet of him to do all that research, shop on the way home after a brutal day in court, and whip up a batch of cookies in the middle of making a nutritious but bland dinner while she rested.
But that was her Ethan: sweet. And as soft as the cookie she bit into, no matter what his colleagues and opponents thought. Even Aunt Sandy was starting to come around. She’d called him Ethan last weekend instead of her customary Mr. Webb. Baby steps.
She finished her cookie and took a sip of the tea. The peppermint and ginger worked their magic on her queasy stomach as she moved around the kitchen getting ready to leave for the office.
As usual, Ethan had left a lunch in the fridge for her: plain baked chicken and mashed potatoes with a side of naked green beans. Leftovers from last night’s dinner. Basic and boring. She longed to drizzle it all with hot sauce but knew that would be an epic mistake. For now, basic and boring kept her out of the bathroom long enough to get some work done. At least she’d get to use a pinch of Himalayan pink salt, another one of Ethan’s internet finds. He was becoming a walking pregnancy encyclopedia.
She massaged her shoulder to ease a sudden throbbing pain. She must have slept wrong. The pain receded. She was going to have to get used to this because pain, or at least discomfort, was part of the deal. But in the end, she’d have a beautiful baby of her own. She could handle a little pain. She massaged another twinge away. Okay, so that pain wasn’t so little, but she’d deal with it. If not, she’d take some acetaminophen like her doctor had advised. She had an important meeting to get through this morning and two candidates to interview for Irene’s position after lunch. She didn’t have time to let pain slow her down. She grabbed the bottle of pills off the counter, stuffed it into her already bulging purse, and headed out the door.
CHAPTER 58
ETHAN STRETCHED HIS legs out in front of him and leaned back as far as he could in the ancient, scarred oak chair. For all he knew, William Penn himself could have sat in this very chair, and it had been old then too. But there was something comforting in the solidly constructed piece of furniture that had held silent witness to some epic court battles. Custody cases. Malpractice suits. Not to mention a defective product case or two like the one he was about to wrap up. It had taken all of his time and effort the past few weeks, but it was almost over. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel, and for once in his life, he was sure that light wasn’t the headlight of an oncoming freight train.
He closed his eyes and let the images of coppery spirea bushes and ketchup smeared milk cartons duke it out in his head as he waited patiently for his turn to address the jury. Okay, so he wasn’t exactly being patient, but at least he wasn’t tapping his foot or drumming his fingers. That always drove Judge-aunt Sandy crazy. Which was mostly why he’d done it. That, and it bled off some of the nervous energy that always coursed through him right before he delivered his closing remarks.
With nearly forty million dollars in proposed damages on the line, he had to make this good. The fee he could earn today would provide the rest of the funds to pay off Wally and his cronies and get them out of Stephanie’s life for good. That would ease at least part of her stress and build a more secure financial future for Pete and Little Vegas.
He glanced up at the judge. She wasn’t even pretending to pay attention. What was it today, a crossword puzzle or Sudoku? But heaven help you if she caught you doing that. Aunt Sandy ruled her courtroom with a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do attitude, and the only thing anyone could say to that was, “Yes, ma’am.”
It was good to be the judge.
She hadn’t given him one ounce of special consideration in this or any other case he’d argued before her since he’d married Stephanie. Not that he’d expected her to. Word of his relationship with the terror of family court had spread like an outbreak of the flu, and everyone was watching, waiting to pounce at the first sign of favoritism.
They shouldn’t have worried. The Honorable Sandra J. Banner was an equal opportunity ogre. She basically hated every lawyer on the planet. She just hated him a tad bit less than the others.
Yeah, there was a lot of money riding on today’s outcome, but the money wasn’t the only reason he wanted this particular case to be a spectacular success. The primary reason? It might be his last. With a victory of this magnitude on his resume, he could go out at the top of his game.
And then?
Yeah, and then. House spouse? He could spend his days playing with Pete and Little Vegas, doing charity work, and preparing delicious meals for his warrior wife. That would last about a week and end with the housekeeper’s ultimatum that either he had to go, or she would.
Did Brian need an assistant? Contracts bored him stupid, but for Stephanie, he’d give it a whirl.
He turned his attention back to his opponent’s speech, jotting down a few notes that he’d find a way to incorporate into his carefully crafted and rehearsed monologue. He could fit it in right after...
Judge Banner’s clerk literally ran into the courtroom, her heels clacking like hailstones hitting a tin roof, letting the door slam behind her. A collective gasp filled the room, eliciting a loud WTF from his opponent. Precisely why Ethan had worked so hard to purge that word from his vocabulary. Not only was the judge about to hit the man with a contempt of court charge, but he had likely turned the jury against him. A win-win for Ethan and his client. There was lucky and there was good. Ethan knew he was good, but a little luck never hurt.
But it was as if the judge hadn’t heard his learned opponent’s faux pas as her clerk frantically whispered into her ear. Her eyes glistened, her jaw fell slack, then started to tremble; her suddenly ashen face pinched in pain. Ethan would have bet his house that she wasn’t capable of that kind of emotion.
With a white-knuckled fist, she slammed her gavel onto the bench; a loud crack erupted, sending pieces flying. “This court is in emergency recess until further notice. Mr. Webb, you will follow me to chambers immediately.”
“Your Honor, I object!” Mr. WTF shouted.
Aunt Sandy rifled through her notes, sending papers flying in all directions. “Mr...Mr... damn it! Mr... Mr. Flannigan, we are in recess. Your objection is too late. Mr. Webb, what are you waiting for? My. Chambers. NOW!”
Ethan rocketed out of his chair, sending it crashing into the railing that separated the business end of the court from the spectators. He motioned to his newest intern. “Pack up and wait for me outside of the judge’s chambers.” Without waiting for a reply, he followed Aunt Sandy into her chambers.
By the time Ethan joined her, she had already stripped out of her judicial robes, which lay strewn on the floor in her wake, and was frantically stuffing things into her purse.
“Sandy, what?” he asked. His gut churned. Only two people could get Aunt Sandy this riled: Pete and Stephanie. Something was desperately wrong. His churning gut seized into a block of solid lead.
“Deb called. Stephanie collapsed at the office about an hour ago. She’s been taken to Quaker Hospital. Brian rode in the ambulance with her. Are you okay to drive?”
The rapid-fire barrage of information bounced around inside of Ethan’s brain. Collapsed. Ambulance. Hospital. Okay? Hell, no, he wasn’t okay. He might never be okay again if anything happened to Stephanie or their baby. “I can drive. But why are you getting this information instead of me?”
Aunt Sandy stopped mid-step and turned. “When Jamie and Rosemary died, Stephanie named Brian, Deb, and me as her emergency contacts. Apparently, she hasn’t gotten around to changing that. Trust us, we’ll keep you in the loop.”
Trust them. To keep him in the loop. Because according to Pennsylvania law, spouses didn’t have automatic rights if a previous medical directive existed. And there was nothing he could do about it. Once again, he was at someone else’s mercy. Once again, everything he held dear could be snatched away from him by someone’s capricious whim.
Fuck.
CHAPTER 59
&nbs
p; ETHAN STACKED ANOTHER empty cardboard cup onto his tower. Eight cups of vending machine coffee battled with sugary apple juice he’d consumed after donating blood. The coffee and juice sloshed in his stomach like a sea of acid.
He was drowning, being pulled under by the weight of Stephanie’s rings that he’d stashed in his shirt pocket after Brian had handed them to him as soon as he’d jogged into the Emergency Room. It felt as if his connection to her had been severed. He twisted his own ring as if he were tuning an old-fashioned transistor radio, hoping to home in on her wavelength.
He couldn’t lose her. That would be the final blow, one from which he would never recover. They could make other babies, but there would never be another Stephanie.
He glanced up at the clock that seemed to be moving backward. Four p.m. Stephanie had been in surgery nearly two hours now. What the hell was going on in there that was taking so damned long?
He nibbled on the tasteless cookie the nurse had given him after he’d donated a pint of blood. O negative, the universal donors who could give blood to anyone. Now his blood was pumping through Stephanie’s veins. Keeping her and Little Vegas alive. Would it be enough? Hell, they could have all his blood if it would save Stephanie. If she died, he wouldn’t need it.
He stroked the neon orange compression bandage that marked the spot where the nurse had drawn his blood. There had been a rainbow of colors available, but he’d specifically asked for orange. Stephanie’s favorite color. She was the fiery sunrise, bringing warmth and light to his cold, dark world. Hell, he’d paint every damned room in the house orange if—if she lived to see it.
A hand stroked Ethan’s back. He stood to hug the woman who he’d come to love not only as Stephanie’s aunt, but his own.
For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1) Page 27
