by Kate Benson
“How is that fair?” I counter. “I told you my two favorite names and you shot both of them down without even blinking.”
“Your names are crazy!” she shrieks her reply. “Just because we’re having two doesn’t mean we have to name them like they’re a litter. We aren’t forest people, baby. I can’t even remember the last time I went outside and enjoyed it,” she continues. “Besides, I’m asking you to name our kid after someone you love. It’s not the same thing.”
Her words make me smile and I can’t help but press my lips to hers once more.
“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll think about it for a middle name.”
“That’s all I ask,” she hugs herself closer to my side, her arms wrapping around my waist. “I just think their names should come from somewhere amazing. From something or someone that changed our lives, had a hand in making us the people we were always meant to become,” she shrugs, her fingers absentmindedly tracing her belly. “Don’t you agree?”
“Hmm…” I hum, taking her words in, unable to keep the smile from my lips. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm,” I nod, pressing my lips to her hair once more. “And I think I’ve already got my top pick.”
“Really?” she sits up, her eyes wild with excitement as I nod once more. “Well, what is it?”
I stare back at her, the names already emblazoned on my heart and my smile widens.
“Nope,” I shake my head. “We agreed it would be a surprise.”
“That’s stupid! I take it back!”
“Doesn’t matter, little monster. A deal’s a deal,” I wink, gesturing toward her blank sheet of paper. “It’s pretty amazing, though. You’d best get crackin’ on that list.”
Nineteen
dash
“Are we ready to get a look at these babies?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Evie smiles, turning to lie back onto the table.
Her eyes meet mine as she begins to lift her shirt away from her growing belly. I brush the pad of my thumb over her brow and although she tries her best to hide it, I can’t miss the apprehensiveness in her gaze.
“You okay?” I whisper, pulling a nod from her.
“Yeah,” she replies, releasing a long, low breath before she returns her eyes to mine. “Just …”
She gestures toward the blinding clinical lighting above us and I understand immediately. While I’m admittedly clueless half the time, it doesn’t take a genius to see the change in Evie’s confidence. She’s begun covering her body lately and when I fucked her last night, she even asked me to turn off the lights.
That was a first.
I personally don’t get it. It’d be one thing if I wasn’t showing any interest, but this ain’t that. In fact, seeing her body change to accommodate my babies has been one of the biggest turn-ons I’ve ever experienced in my life. I’ve even told her as much, not to mention I can’t keep my fucking hands off her right now. While my reassurances help temporarily, it doesn’t seem to keep her doubts from creeping back in.
“Hey,” I whisper, angling her eyes to mine. “What’d I tell you about that shit?”
Her gaze softens at my words and it makes my chest clench. I bend to press my lips to her hair and as I release her, the doctor’s voice pulls our attention once more.
“Did triage get your weight?” she asks, making Evie’s expression fall as her eyes flutter closed in embarrassment and she nods silently. “Ahh, yes. It looks like they did. Up nineteen pounds. Good job.”
“I think that’s subjective,” Evie mutters, shifting uncomfortably once more.
She splays her hand over her belly, trying her best to use her palms to cover her exposed skin and I can’t allow it. I pull at her hand, squeezing it in mine and reveal her belly all at once. She blushes, looking away for a moment until I use my free hand to tilt her chin back toward me.
“Hey,” I whisper as the pad of my thumb brushes gently over her lower lip and my heavy gaze moves to hers. “I like that lipstick on you.”
This time, her eyes begin to dance despite the way they still glisten with unshed tears. Instead, she swallows hard and squeezes my hand in return before pushing out another long, cleansing breath that blends like a melody with her quiet giggle.
“You stop that right now,” she warns almost silently, her scarlet cheeks making me beam wider. “And put those dimples away. You’re getting me all worked up, perv.”
Before I can respond with more than a low chuckle, the doctor turns to face us.
“Alright, honey. Get ready for second base,” she jokes, making Evie smile as she nods. Both of us watch as she tucks a square of what looks like tissue paper along the edge of her pants. She reaches for the weird jelly crap, squeezing enough onto Evie’s stomach that it makes her jump before she swivels the monitor for us. “Let’s do it.”
Before either of us can respond, the image on the monitor shifts, taking what’s left of my breath. The doctor moves almost silently, the simple click here and there the only sound for a long moment before I she hits the volume and a low, repetitive whomp fills the room, taking the last of Evie’s breath, too.
“Oh, my God,” she sighs, one hand raising to her lips while the other stays clamped in mine. “Look at our potatoes, baby,” she gasps, and I force my eyes away from the screen for only a second, greedily taking in her emotions as her head falls gently on the pillow behind her, taking me over. “They’re perfect.”
I’m speechless as I shift my gaze back to the monitor. I’ve done more than my fair share of crazy, adrenaline-seeking shit in my life, but this?
This is the biggest rush I’ve ever experienced.
Hands down.
“Do you see what I see?” the doctor asks, pulling my attention to where she’s pointing on the image, pointing toward what we’re affectionately calling Baby A. “We’ve got eyelashes, Mama.”
Oh, my God.
“Wow!” Evie gasps, leaning up once more to get a better look. “That’s amazing,” she manages again, her voice breaking with emotion as she gazes at the screen with intent. “Is this one sucking its thumb?”
Holy shit.
“Oh, I didn’t see that!” the doctor beams, giving her a happy nod. “Yes, it looks that way to me.”
This is real.
“Oh, my God,” my girl breathes, giving my hand another hard squeeze before she turns to find me staring at the monitor with her. You knocked your best friend’s sister up. “Baby, do you see that?”
These aren’t fucking potatoes, you idiot.
“Uh huh,” I nod, clearing my throat and moving nervously beside her. “I see it.”
Potatoes don’t have thumbs.
“Oh, my God,” she says again, thankfully turning away from the very delayed, albeit extremely real breakdown I’m on the verge of. Evie’s about to have two babies. “Shit! I was supposed to call my mom,” Evie says low, glancing up at me. Your eyelash, thumb havin’ babies. “Babe, can you grab my phone?”
You’re someone’s father.
“Huh?” I ask, glancing down to find her staring up at me, her eyebrows scrunched together in concern when she sees my expression.
Dude.
“Are you okay?” she asks, sitting up slightly to face me, the sound of the doctor turning on her stool barely on my radar. What. The actual. Fuck? “Baby?” she continues when I answer with nothing more than a shaky nod. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Uh oh,” I vaguely hear the doctor say as my vision begins to blur, everything around me going hazy.
Shitshitshit.
“Dash?”
“Eyelashes,” I manage.
And then the world goes black.
evie
“Are you sure you’re alright to drive?” I ask, taking his hand as he leads us out toward the parking lot.
“I’m fine,” he replies, slowing to fish his keys out of his pocket before he pulls my door open for me.
“I know you’re kind of we
ird about other people driving your car, but you came down hard,” I insist, annoyed when he won’t meet my gaze. “I’m pretty sure you hit your head,” I argue quietly, my fingertips brushing the inside of his wrist, willing his eyes to mine. “Just let me drive, baby. I won’t tell anyone.”
It halfway does the trick, one corner of his lips quirking up at my playful words as he finally looks down at me.
“I promise I’m fine,” he assures me, gripping my chin and pressing his lips to my nose. “If I feel weird, I’ll pull over.”
“Okay,” I smile, unable to contain the low sigh sitting in my chest as he closes me in and moves around the front of the car. I watch him round the hood and as he makes it to his side, hesitating before he finally slips in beside me. “Babe?”
“Yeah?” he replies, checking that I’m belted in before he cranks the ignition.
“Don’t you think we should talk about this?”
“About what?” he asks, checking the mirror before his eyes come to mine.
“Um… well, baby…” I start, reaching for his hand. “I’d love to know what the fuck just happened?”
“It was nothing.”
“Dash,” I sigh, and this time I can’t keep the tinge of disbelief from my voice.
“What?” he asks, glancing into the rearview despite my eyes being locked on him. “It was nothing.” His eyes move back to mine and when he sees my expression, he releases a smirk. “I swear. I’m f-”
“You passed out in the middle of the exam room!” I cut him off. “You’re clearly not fine.”
“I’m fuckin’ tired, baby,” he argues.
“You’re tired?” I chuckle. “Dash, I’ve seen you tired. That’s not what that was.”
“What do you want me to say, Evie?” he says, finally putting the car back in park and turning to face me. “You want me to tell you I freaked out? That everything finally hit me, and I panicked for a split second?” he asks, his eyes going soft in apology for a minute making my chest clench. “Okay, fine. Yes,” he sighs. “It happened, but it’s over now and I’m fine.”
I stare back at him and I can’t help the emotion that fills me with his admission. I’ve known Dash Hunter for more than half my life and in that time, I was sure I’d seen every shade of emotion possible.
I was wrong, though.
Today is the first time I’ve ever seen him scared.
“I don’t know why it just hit me now,” he admits quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he releases a long, low sigh. “I mean, we’ve known for how long?” he asks, not waiting for a response before he starts to slowly shake his head in frustration. “I know it’ll be okay, and I’m sorry I freaked you out, baby. I just…”
“You don’t have to say anything else. I get it,” I cut him off, releasing myself from the seatbelt and leaning across the seat, pulling him close. “Just remember. You’re Dash fucking Hunter,” I remind him in a sweet voice, savoring in the way he squeezes me tighter to his chest. “You piss off hormonal women and jump out of planes like an idiot.”
“You’re really killin’ it with this pep talk, pussycat,” he chuckles against me, his lips pressing into my hair.
“I know,” I smirk, kissing his shoulder. “It’s going to be alright. We’ve got this, baby.”
We stay like that for a while, the gentle shake of his laughter subsiding after a moment leaving only the raw emotion between us in its place.
“Thank you,” he finally whispers, pulling away to find my eyes. “You know me passing out doesn’t mean-”
“I know,” I cut him short once more, smiling small when I see his apologetic eyes begin to soften.
“Gimme a kiss,” he orders sweetly, his gaze never wavering as he presses his lips to mine. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I smile, lingering against his chest for a moment before I reluctantly release him.
Once we’re settled, he reaches across and I happily take his hand, the feel of his fingers threading into mine making me smile inwardly. Although I can’t deny it makes me a little anxious to see my fearless beau fall victim to his nerves, quite literally, I also can’t deny the closeness I’m feeling to him in this moment.
Lately, our lives have made me feel helpless. Like some kind of pitiful damsel who needs her big strong man to fly in and save her from the dangers of impending adulthood.
His confession hadn’t made me doubt him, but it definitely helped make me feel a little more understood. A little less alone in my own fears.
“Do you think we ought to feed the tots?” he asks as he reaches across to rub my belly and interrupts my thoughts before he finally pulls out of the parking lot. “I’m sure y’all are hungry.”
“Sure,” I smile. “What sounds good?”
“I don’t care, baby,” he smirks, glancing out into traffic for a moment before he pulls out and makes his way to the light. “Honestly, I’m just glad to be getting the hell out of that office. That shit was embarrassing as fuck.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I offer, unable to keep my laughter at bay as his deadpan eyes come back to mine. “It definitely could have been worse.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he shrugs with a sigh. “At least I didn’t have a breakdown in the middle of a hotel lobby.”
Twenty
evie
I wake early, the discomfort invading my body and the need to paint completely overwhelming. I glance to his side of the bed, finding him completely content, resting easily beside me. There’s a part of me that wishes I could push the creative urges away and stay here with him all day. However, the rest of me knows if I don’t scratch the itch to paint, it will consume me for the rest of our day together.
I write a quick note and press a kiss to his parted lips, forcing myself to the front door before I scrap my productive plans once and for all.
It’s early enough that traffic isn’t as bad as usual, but it’s still Austin, so the drive isn’t completely painless. However, when I make it to the gallery and step inside the small studio hiding in the back, I’m thrilled to find it mostly empty.
I love the other artists who I’ve met since I’ve come here. I’ve made great new friends, been inspired by all of them in one way or another. Some days, though, a girl just needs to be alone with her paint.
Today is definitely one of those days.
It doesn’t take long for me to fall into my haze, the weight of the brush as it collides with the canvas deliciously mesmerizing. My only pauses come from the need to refill my brush or my belly, the decaf vanilla latte warming me almost as deeply as the cadmium red. In what feels like only a sequence of seconds, a matter of breaths, my coffee’s gone cold and my skin is covered in paint.
I take a step back and bite onto the center of the brush as I stretch back and take in my work. There’s a gentle tilt of my head that comes naturally and I pull one of my earbuds out, eager to listen to my creation instead.
“Don’t forget to take a picture for me,” I hear from my left and my lips quirk up of their own accord when I find my favorite shade of green staring back at me.
I glance over, surprised and elated to find Dash sitting patiently on a stool only a few feet away. I take a half step toward him, eager to press my lips to his jaw, but movement from behind me pulls my eyes away once more.
My cheeks flare at the half dozen resident artists standing behind me, peering up at the canvas in a combination between wonder, regard and curiosity.
“Hey,” I manage, a few of them smiling in answer before they begin to dissipate, moving back toward their stations.
My eyes follow their gaze and I can’t help but blush at the attention I’d unknowingly received. When my eyes move to Dash and I find his gaze stuck only on me, I blush even deeper.
“How’s my girl?” he says low, extending his reach to my waist and pulling me close enough to press his lips to my nose.
“I’m okay. What are you doing here?” I ask, blushing slightly when he brushes
what I can only assume is a droplet of stray paint from my forehead. “I thought you were asleep.”
“It’s like six-thirty, babe,” he answers, smirking when my eyes go wide, and I reach for my phone to confirm.
“Holy shit!” I gasp, making him chuckle. “I had no idea I’d been working that long.”
“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “I’m not worried about that, just about you,” he admits. “I texted you a while ago, but you didn’t answer, so I decided to come check on you, make sure you were okay. When I got here, though, you just looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you,” he continues, his eyes moving from me to the canvas. “It’s really beautiful, Evie,” he sighs, his palm coming to a low stop on my waist before his lips quirk up slightly on either side, his gaze coming back to mine. “Almost as pretty as you.”
The heat from my blush makes my icy heart melt just a little and I can’t stop my lips from finding his.
“You’re sweet,” I smile, making his lips widen.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he winks, squeezing my waist before he moves to a stand and pulls his phone out to take a picture himself. “You ready?”
“Yes,” I nod, pulling away. “I just need to clean up and put my things away. It’ll only take a minute.”
He helps me clean up my station and as we’re on our way out, I say my goodbyes. I can’t help but notice when a few of the artists address Dash by name, as well.
“How do you know them?” I ask as we step out onto the street, unable to keep my eyebrow from quirking up on one side.
“We got to talking while I was watching you,” he admits. “I think they just wanted to make sure I wasn’t some sort of crazy stalker or something.”
“Why would they think that?” I giggle, thanking him when he offers his bottle of water and takes my hand. “How long were you watching me?”
“Couple of hours,” he shrugs once more, making my eyes grow wide. “What?”
“You sat there for two hours?”
