by B. B. Miller
“I don’t have to anymore.”
“No. You don’t.” She shifts to straddle my lap and rests her forehead against mine.
“I think you said something about thanking me for burning your burgers? Something along the lines of multiple times?” She rolls her hips, and I feel a lick of pleasure roll through me. My cheeky girl. Christ, how I love her.
“Yes, ma’am.” I push up, taking hold of her ass as she wraps her legs around me. Striding back to the VW, I haul open the door and it shuts with a metallic bang behind us. Her legs tighten around me before I launch us to the pullout bed in the back and thank her… multiple times over.
I’ve never seen Cassidy like this; nervous, fidgeting, that spark in her eyes gone and replaced with something akin to shock.
I take a step toward her, but she recoils, wrapping her arms around her waist and making a beeline for the window.
“What’s wrong, love? Whatever it is, we can handle it. It’s what we do.” She glances at me over her shoulder before closing her eyes and turning back to the window. “You’re officially scaring the shit out of me.”
I can see her shoulders sag and she glances down at her fingers, wringing them together. “I’m not really sure how to have this conversation, so I’m just going to say it.” She squares her shoulders, facing me. It feels like she’s an ocean away. “I’m pregnant.”
Time stops. Literally. There’s a whoosh in my ears like a postconcert vacant buzz that lingers for hours after we’ve brought the house down. I glance down at her stomach and back to her face. “Wh—what?” It’s a damn good thing I’m gripping the back of the sofa, or I’d be on the floor. My heart pounds in a ridiculous rhythm, my skin prickling with heat.
An eerie silence yawns between us while we stare at each other. This isn’t possible. Not even remotely, according to every single test I’ve taken and good ole Dr. Perez has told me. “Is it mine?”
Her mouth drops open for a second, and then she unleashes on my sheer absurdity. “Are you serious right now?” She throws her hands up in the air. “Is it yours?”
“Cass.” I step tentatively toward her, but she’s having none of it. She holds her hand up.
“Don’t even think about coming closer to me right now.”
My knee hits the side of the sofa, and I stop. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just that I was told it was more likely I’d find Elvis alive than it was for me to father a child, so you’re going to have to give me a minute here to process.”
“No! You don’t get a minute, Sean. I sure as hell didn’t get a minute when I was sitting in the doctor’s office after having fainted with bridezilla number four today.”
“Wait, you fainted?” She waves me off; there’s no stopping her rant, and rightly so. I uttered the worst words possible in this scenario. Is it mine? On the scale of idiotic, this surely has a place at the top.
“Riya took me to the doctor this afternoon. These last couple of weeks have been awful for me, Sean. I’ve got brides ranging from the ones who want their picture taken so they can get more Instagram followers to ones who are terrified to come in for fear of their picture getting splashed all over the gossip sites.”
“I’m sorry, I just—You’re pregnant? You’re sure?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m sure. And I thought…” Her lips smash together and she shakes her head. “That your first reaction is to question whether this baby is yours or not screams of everything that’s wrong with us.”
“Wait… what?”
“You don’t know me at all, Sean. If you did, you’d realize how moronic it is for you to even think that. I’d never do that—be with someone else. How can you even—” I can see her eyes swimming with threatening tears.
I move to take her hand but she backs up. “I don’t think that. You caught me on the back foot. I just—”
“No. I can’t, Sean. I can’t have this stress. I haven’t been sleeping properly, I’ve been working around the clock… It’s all just too much.” Tears stain her cheeks, and she quickly wipes them away. “I can’t have more stress. The doctor said I need to take better care of myself.” She fishes around in her pocket and pulls out a crumpled wad of paper. “She put me on prenatal vitamins, and there’s a list of things I’m not supposed to eat any more.” She waves the tattered pages in front of me. “I mean, no more Brie cheese? No more coffee? Some days that’s all I have time for. Coffee and cheese!”
This would be funny if it wasn’t happening to the woman I love. Cass in full meltdown is a sight to behold. “Cass, take a breath, love.”
“Don’t love me,” she says through gritted teeth. “I just thought you should know. I don’t expect anything from you. You can be as involved as you want or not, but my first priority, my only priority now is this baby.”
“Cass—” She stalks to the door, shoving the paper back into her coat pocket.
“I need to go. I have a deadline, and I can’t miss it.”
“Cass, don’t leave. Not like this. Let me take you home.”
Her jaw sets as she looks up at me in defiance. “No. You need to let me go.”
“I can’t.” I slide my hand along her neck, feeling her pulse thunder beneath my palm. “You’re in my veins, woman, don’t you know that?”
“I can’t do this. I need time away from all of this.” She motions to me, and it’s like I’ve been slapped in the face. “I need time away from you.”
I bolt awake, my heart slamming around in my chest, the sheets tangled around my legs. I glance down at Cass who stirs, her hand reaching out for me. Christ, I haven’t had a nightmare in… I run a hand through my hair. I can’t remember the last time I had a nightmare, likely around my rehab time, I’d hazard to say.
I roll my neck, gripping the back of it as I try to calm the hell down. “Sean?” Cass leans up, pressing her luscious, naked body to my side, her hand sliding down my chest. She’s sleep-warm and perfect, a balm to madness of one fucked-up dream. “Are you okay?”
I lift her hand, turning it to kiss her palm. “I will be.” My voice is all gravelly.
“What is it?”
She drops a kiss to my shoulder, and I start to relax, soaking in her comfort as only a lovesick man can. “I just need you.”
“I’m right here,” she whispers against my shoulder.
I turn to roll on top of her, my head spinning with the dizzying dream, with her, with too much emotion I don’t know how to handle. Her hands roam over my back and then glide along my arms.
“Mmm. Arm porn,” she whispers, her fingers digging into my biceps. I can’t speak. I’m a total mess from that dream. The thought of losing Cass is too painful to think about.
Our breaths mingle, and I fit myself into her warmth, threading our fingers together on the pillow. My grip is so tight, I’m afraid I’m going to break her hand. But I’d never hurt Cassidy. I might push her buttons and take her to the edge of her sanity some days, but I’d never hurt her.
After, she sleeps with her cheek on my chest, our legs tangled together, and I just listen to her breathe. My fingers trace the curve of her spine, running a circuit along her lower back up to smooth out her tangled hair.
I think about something Russell, my sponsor, said to me once early on in our relationship. Sometimes we think we’re filling our lives with all of these vapid and innocuous encounters because we’re searching for something. Sure, it’s a lot of fun at the time, but all of those blurry nights and random hookups don’t actually mean anything. They’re just getting you ready for how you’ll really fill your life.
Russell was right, as he always is. I wasn’t really living or filling my life. Not until Cassidy fell into it.
“Do you hear something?” Cassidy glances up from her sewing machine, pushing her glasses up to the top of her head.
“What?” I look up from my tablet and over at the stack of blankets beside the bed. No-name, a four-year old Corgi I picked up this afternoon from the rescue shelter, sleeps peacefully, letting out
the odd snore now and again. When I saw him in that tiny cage in the shop window, looking up at me with those big brown eyes, I knew I couldn’t just leave him there. How we need rescue shelters in this day and age is beyond me. People can be total arseholes.
I brought him up to Cassidy’s place while she finished her last appointment for the day, and they are both blissfully unaware of each other. Unaware because No-name probably hasn’t had a proper sleep in all of his four years, and Cassidy because she’s working like a madwoman to finish up three dresses before we jet to my sister’s wedding at the end of the month.
Another snore escapes from beside the bed, and Cassidy lifts her glasses off, setting them down. “That. Did you not hear that?”
“Ah…” No-name stirs at the sound when Cassidy pushes the chair back, and he’s up and bounding in my direction. “Right.” I lift him up, stroking his neck. “Cassidy, this is No-name.”
Her eyes widen and she rushes over, gathering him up in her arms. “He’s adorable! Are you a dog-sitter now in all of your spare time?” She nuzzles his fur, and I grin at her.
“No. He’s mine. Well, ours. I got him from one of those rescues.”
No-name licks her cheek. “Ours? Where are you planning on keeping him?” she asks, laughing as he tries to snuggle closer to her. I know the feeling, mate.
“Here? Wherever we are, I suppose.”
Her hand stills on his back, and she glances up at me. “We can’t keep a dog in here, Sean.”
“Why not?” I can recognize the near-whine in my voice.
She balances No-name in one arm, motioning to her workspace. “Because I have hundreds of thousands of dollars in fabric in here, and I can’t have dog fur on these dresses.”
I glance over at her mannequins with dresses in various stages of completion, along with my suit that she’s almost finished. “I didn’t even think about that.”
No-name lets out a little yelp of excitement and she hugs him tighter. “Did you even get everything you need for him? A leash? Toys? A bed? Dog food?”
“Ahhh.” I rub the back of my neck. “I got him food and a bowl,” I tell her rather triumphantly. “He really just needs love. It’s all anyone needs.”
“Okay there, Paul McCartney.” Her lips press together and she slowly shakes her head, mumbling something else I can’t hear.
“And I have a solution for his sleeping arrangements. Move in with me. We can keep No-name at my place, and when you need to work, you can just come here.”
Her eyes light up, and I move over to slide my arm around her. “How about it? You, me, Mr. No-name here. Our own family.”
She sets her palm against my cheek. “I think that’s a perfect plan,” she whispers. No-name lets out a bark between us. Life can’t get much sweeter. Even the dog agrees with me.
Cassidy
“Okay, turn to the left, please.” Samantha obliges me, and I quickly move my tape, calling out measurements for Riya to jot down. Sam’s tall with long auburn curls and a curvy figure that would look fabulous draped in a clingy silk. “Have you decided on a date yet?”
“Next year. We’re looking at the second Saturday in April, I think.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “However, Victoria—Cam’s mom—hasn’t given up on inviting the French ambassador, and apparently there’s some summit going on then. I love that woman, but she still has trouble sometimes accepting she’s not always in control. Especially when it comes to Cam.”
“Ah, the joys of mothers-in-laws,” Riya sings, making us both chuckle. I kneel to get Sam’s inseam, and the thought of my own soon-to-be mother-in-law, Anne, comes to mind. So far, I’ve only met her on Skype, when Sean and I announced our engagement. She seems like a lovely woman, with dark red hair and fair complexion like Sydney’s. Sean’s father, Joseph Murphy, CBE, is tall like his son, and with Sean’s devilish twinkle in his eye. They were surprised, having all but given up hope their son would ever marry, but thrilled for us. I’ll meet them formally when we fly over for Sydney’s wedding in a few weeks. Thank God I won’t have to deal with a woman like Victoria. From the bits I’ve heard about her from Sean and Samantha, she sounds like a major pain in the ass.
Since everything went down with Dale, I’ve felt freer, in a way I didn’t expect. Without fear weighing it down, my heart is full of optimism for the future and excitement for my life with Sean. With Kevin’s encouragement, my parents are getting over their reservations about my engagement, although when they found out Sean’s a rock star I thought we’d have to call 911. Discovering my mother is a closet Redfall fan was almost too much for my dad.
The best news this week was from Jack. He flew to Wyoming with his partner, Adam, and came out to his father. Apparently, after Bert took a long walk on their ranch, he came back inside to a nervous couple and embraced his surprised son. He told Jack that Adam seemed like a stand-up guy, and that as long as he was happy, that was good enough for him. He also said that if anyone on their board of directors didn’t like it, they could find the door. He had his son’s back, as he should. I’d been thrilled for the happiness in Jack’s voice when he called. My respect for his father—environmental issues aside—increased a hundred fold.
“Look, Auntie Syd, look!” Hannah’s giggled command filters in from out in the reception area. Sydney is keeping an eye on her while I get her mother’s measurements. Sean is out entertaining Cam somewhere, while Sam and Hannah accompanied Sydney here for her final fitting. After seeing what I’ve created for Syd, Sam immediately asked if I’d create her wedding gown, too. Once we’re done here, we’ll look through some of my sketchbooks so I can get an idea of what she likes.
Sitting back on my heels, I tell her I’m finished, and Riya hands her the robe I keep here for fittings. She shivers a little as she tugs the fluffy terrycloth closer, obviously chilled after standing in her bra and panties while I worked. I should’ve turned the heat up a little first. “I hope she’s not driving Syd nuts out there,” Sam mutters, and I snort a laugh.
“That sweet angel? I can’t believe she’d drive anyone nuts,” I say as Riya rolls one of our racks with sample dresses closer. When I met Sam and Cam’s adorable daughter, her strawberry blond curls danced around her pretty little face, and my heart twinged at the thought of never having a little girl of my own with Sean. But I pushed it away; there are always options.
It’s Sam’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, right. You should’ve seen her when—”
“What in the ever-loving fuck?”
All three of our heads snap toward the sound of Sydney’s shocked voice, an octave higher than usual. I pop up off the floor and rush with Sam and Riya to swipe aside the curtain that divides the main salon from the rest of the shop.
Hannah is on her knees, her arms wrapped around our wiggling corgi, who Sean finally decided to name after legendary drummer Gene Krupa. Cam is trying to stifle his grin as he switches Krupa’s leash to his other hand. But that’s obviously not the issue.
“What were you thinking?” Sydney demands, her hands clutching her head as she glares at her twin.
Her bald twin.
“Like it?” He runs a hand over his shiny scalp. “I did it for you.”
“Sweet crispy Christ,” I whisper, stunned, as Sam nods in silent agreement next to me, her hand covering her mouth. Realizing I’m gaping at him, I clamp my mouth shut and continue to stare in shock and disbelief as Sydney marches up to him, jabbing a finger in his chest.
“For me?” she sputters. “You’ve done some daft things in your life, Sean Michael Murphy, but this…” She shakes her head and takes a deep breath to rein in her anger, for Hannah’s sake, I think. “My wedding is in three weeks!”
“Exactly.” He takes her hands in his, probably to keep her from smacking him. “It’s your wedding. Weddings always make me nostalgic. So I thought it might be nice to walk down memory lane and go back to what the good Lord gave me. For a while, at least.”
“Back to bald?” Her voice quivers and she swal
lows thickly, trying to hold back tears. Sydney is the furthest thing from a bridezilla as possible, but today’s been an emotional day for her. It’s always poignant when you see yourself in your finished wedding dress for the first time. Plus, she’s in that phase where brides worry about everything: the weather for her outside ceremony, the catering and guest allergies, lost invitations, and all the other myriad details a typical wedding includes. She’s on the edge.
“You know how fast my hair grows.” His smile is tender, his voice careful. “By the time you walk down the aisle, I should have a good half inch of flaming fabulousness. Can’t you imagine Mum’s face when she sees me? And Nanna?”
She huffs a weak laugh. “They’ll be ecstatic.” She pulls her right hand from his and gently touches his cheek. “You seriously did this for me? You hate your real hair.” Her eyes take in his gleaming, stark-white head. “I didn’t think we’d ever see it again. Ever.”
He shrugs and shoots me a grin over Sydney’s shoulder before refocusing on her. “Someone got me thinking that maybe it wasn’t as bad as I remembered. The only way to know is to let it grow and find out.”
“Oh.” Bursting into tears finally, she throws her arms around her brother’s neck, making him laugh. Sam grabs my forearm, exchanging a smile with me.
“Papa,” Hannah’s little voice breaks the tension. “Auntie Syd owes the swear jar!”
Cam and Sean’s laughter rings in the room. Cam grins down at his daughter. “That she does, sweetie.”
“I can’t believe you did this.” I rub my hand over Sean’s shaved pate and chuckle to myself. I have a feeling I’ll be saying that a lot during our life together. “How does it feel?”
He pulls the blankets closer around us. “Cold. I never realized how much hair keeps your head warm.” We’re nestled in bed, watching the stars through the skylight. Since I moved in with Sean a week ago, my life has felt more relaxed somehow. As if this was always where I was meant to be, as corny as it sounds. He eagerly helped me incorporate my things into his space, and the condo truly feels like ours now. I’ve never been happier; and based on the near-constant smile he wears, he feels the same.
