Gracie relaxed visibly and waited for me to continue.
“It’s just that I really don’t have anyone else. And I know Arlene and Gary will be there, at least after he’s born, but they will really be there for Chris. And I kind of wanted someone to be there for me.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she breathed, rising up from her position on the floor and coming over to me to engulf me in a hug.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“Oh, honey. I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.”
With Gracie’s platform shoes and my recent preference for flats, she towered over me. I rested my head against her shoulder, a wave of sadness washing over me. And I couldn’t stop the sobs from escaping my body. She stroked my hair, a comforting motion that eventually calmed me down enough for her to feel the confidence to pull away and hold me at arm’s length.
“What’s really going on?”
Her brown eyes bore into mine, daring me to disclose my deepest, darkest worries. When she caught on that I was about to break, she held up a finger and retreated to the Jack and Jill bathroom, returning with a wad of tissues. She pressed them into my hand.
“Sit,” she commanded, scooting the rocking chair over.
I did as instructed, then watched as she positioned herself atop the dresser. She was prepared for a lengthy discussion, and I was just about ready to oblige. I dabbed at my eyes, willing myself to have the strength to put the unspeakable into words. She said no more, waiting expectantly for me to compose myself. I didn’t doubt she’d sit there all night if she had to.
“I’m so scared. I know you already knew that. Hell, I’ve told you that much before. I’ve just now gotten used to this being a reality, and in a matter of weeks, it’s going to change yet again.”
“It’s not unusual to have second thoughts, I’m sure,” Gracie mused. “Nine months seems like a long time when you’ve got that little test stick in your hand, but before you know it, you’re bringing home a baby.”
“I think I’ve been so afraid that I haven’t allowed myself to really consider what happens next. And it’s not like I have anyone else to talk it through with. I’ve bored Chris to death with my insecurities, and though his mother is there, it almost seems odd to talk with her about that kind of stuff. And I’ve sort of alienated myself from the prime candidate for doling out advice.”
“Lauren would still help you out if you asked her to.”
I lowered my gaze, focusing on my hands, folded over my ever-growing stomach.
“I can’t,” I admitted softly.
“Why not?”
There was no good answer for that. I just knew that I couldn’t, even though there was no way I could explain it. I supposed there just came a time where the distance between two people was simply insurmountable, and we had reached it.
“Blake, I’m a sorry substitute for who you really want to be there.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why? It’s true. We both know that Lauren would be perfect for this job. She’s dealt with all this pregnancy stuff before. She asked you to be her person. And you were. Don’t you think she would jump at the chance to return the favor?”
I bit my lip. When she said those things, it all sounded so cut and dried. Like I could grab my cell right now, dial Lauren up, and pretend that it hadn’t been nearly a year since I’d spoken with her. Like I hadn’t said some truly horrible things about her to her husband, which I’m sure had gotten back to her.
Yet I didn’t doubt Gracie’s assessment. Especially since in the last couple of months I’d been able to visit with Sadie several times, though with Gracie and Will acting as go-betweens. If time with my niece was meant to make me soften my stance on reconciling with my family, it really hadn’t.
Impending motherhood had, however.
But I was still keeping that revelation under wraps. Waiting to get through delivery to deal with all of that, concerned that the additional stress of reaching out to those involved would result in complications, and I couldn’t risk that. I’d had a textbook pregnancy thus far, and intended to keep it that way.
Choosing not to address Gracie’s question, I pressed on. Sort of.
“I’m not asking just for me. I’m asking for Chris, too. And out of everyone that I know, you’re definitely the most connected to him.”
“So Chris needs a person, too?”
“Maybe. I thought it would be nice for you to be the first person that he shared the news with. I guess I see him coming out in the waiting room and being happy to find you there. And if things don’t go as planned, then I can’t fathom him wanting anyone other than you.”
Gracie perked up, catching onto what was left unsaid like I knew she would. She wasn’t about to let it drop, either.
“Why are you so focused on horrible things happening?” she questioned.
I shrugged. If I could explain it to anyone, I would have started with myself. My nonchalant gesture wasn’t enough for her, judging by the look on her face.
“I’ve been having dreams,” I admitted to the floor.
“Dreams.” Gracie folded her arms under her breasts and continued staring at me.
“Dreams,” I confirmed.
“About?”
“Oh, a multitude of awful things. The baby comes out as an alien, it looks nothing like either one of us, it’s a girl when all we bought are boy clothes.”
She snorted. Right before she called my bluff. “Some of that shit is just silly and you know it. An alien baby? And would it really be that awful if you had to go shopping for all new stuff?”
“No.”
“So what are you so spooked by?”
“Death,” I said abruptly, startling us both. “I keep having dreams where one or both of us dies.”
Gracie swallowed noticeably, and I took that as an opportunity to dab at my eyes again with the tissue.
“Doesn’t the old wives’ tale say that if you die in your dream, then you die in real life?”
“I’ve heard that too, but then what about the dreams where you’re at your own funeral? Maybe it’s the actual dying process that’s the key. My dreams are different than that. I don’t ever see myself or the baby dying; it’s more like it’s understood and I’m witnessing the aftermath.”
“Oh, Blake, that’s just your overactive imagination playing tricks on you. Or maybe it’s an analogy for what you’re going through with your brother. It doesn’t have to mean anything at all.”
“I know, but it’s just a feeling that I can’t shake.”
Gracie curled up her face in deep thought, an obvious question on her lips.
“What?” I pressed. “I’ve already ruined this happy little discussion; you might as well come out with it.”
“There’s not a reason for you to think that way, is there?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, you’re not keeping anything from me that I should know, are you? And before you answer, remember I can ask Chris if I don’t believe you.”
“No, everything’s fine. Every time I go to the doctor’s office, it all checks out perfectly. It’s not even like I’m a high risk pregnancy, or supposed to be on bed rest or anything. So this is all coming out of left field. You’re probably right. I’m just getting nervous, and I can’t have the usual fears everyone else does. I’m not afraid of anything normal, like a long labor, or needing a C-section, or embarrassing myself during delivery by crapping myself or something. No, I have to go for the big, dark elephant in the room.”
“Yep, that’s pretty much you.”
“Please don’t tell Chris,” I begged. “He would go batshit crazy if he found out and wouldn’t leave my side until the baby was born.”
“He’s almost to that point already, isn’t he?”
“Yes, and there’s a problem with him knowing too much. He knows enough to be dangerous, and that’s exactly what worries me. He can be a bit overbearing about things like that sometimes. I don’t want him to deliver our damn
baby or follow me around like I’m his patient. I just want to be his wife. If he was thinking about this in the back of his head all the time, he’d never enjoy the experience.”
“Tell me about it. I can speak for the overbearingness personally.”
“Oh right, the concussion thing.”
She flashed me a dirty look. “I did not have a concussion, thank you very much. Just two black eyes and a sore body.”
“But that all worked out for you, didn’t it?”
She smiled at something I wasn’t privy to, but then again, I didn’t think anyone other than Gracie and Will would ever know the whole story of Gracie and Will. “I suppose you could say so,” she demurred, “even if I didn’t think it at the time.”
“So you’re not going to say anything?”
A long, drawn out sigh passed through her lips before she responded. “Against my better judgment, I won’t say a word to him. But you have to promise me that you won’t get bogged down in baseless, made up scenarios and forget about savoring these last few weeks of being a human incubator.”
“I won’t.”
I tried to make it sound convincing, but wasn’t sure if that had happened.
“Blake.”
Okay, so I hadn’t succeeded.
“Okay, I promise.”
“Seriously, I swear I’m going to find something to help you relax and make sure that you go and do it. A manicure? A massage?”
I shook my head. “They make you take off your nail polish when you go to the hospital. And I don’t know about the art of massage, but since I pretty much feel like a beached whale right now, I don’t exactly want to lie down in front of anyone I don’t know. I might never get back up.”
“Remind me never to get pregnant.”
“I never thought that was on your bucket list.”
“Oh yeah, it isn’t. I’m content to be like the aunt everyone’s kids I know never had. Buy them stuff, hold them for a few minutes, then give them the hell back to their parents.”
“Wow. And I thought you and Sadie were growing on one another. And then there’s Emma.”
“I still won’t let Sadie ride in the Lexus. I’m afraid she might spew some kind of bodily fluid from some orifice. And I don’t have to change Emma’s diapers, so she’s cool.”
“Good to know. I won’t leave you alone with my son until he’s potty trained.”
“And not just a little bit. Completely.”
I nodded solemnly as she hopped down from the dresser. As if we hadn’t just had a discussion about the most morbid topic possible, she rubbed her hands together and announced that unlike me, she had to go back to work.
Which left me all alone to nest and contemplate about her advice. Was I just overthinking everything? Was my recurring dream about death simply a culmination of the past and the present, and not really anything to worry about? Either Gracie was a great actress, or she honestly thought it was nothing.
I wished I could say the same for myself.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gracie
Little by little, more and more of Will’s stuff ended up at my home. The toothbrush had already been there for quite some time, so that didn’t really count. Besides, it was one of my extras anyway, so really, he was just borrowing it. It started with a shirt, some jeans, and a pair of boxers. I responded by clearing out a drawer in my dresser and pushing all of my clothes in my walk in closet as tight as they would go, which afforded him about twenty-five percent of it. Saying nothing about it, I waited to see what he would do.
Since he already had a key to my house, he could come and go whenever he pleased. And apparently, he preferred to stop by when I wasn’t there to add more of his things to the collection. So I would come home at night and make a beeline to the master bedroom to see if more stuff had appeared. More often than not, it had.
Yet I still said nothing. Neither did he. We both played it off as though it wasn’t happening. But every night that he didn’t have custody of Emma, he spent in my bed. And even some of the nights that Emma was with him, he’d stay until the wee hours of the morning, heading back to the duplex so he could be there to make her breakfast and pretend that he’d been there all night. I was sure she knew better. I was also convinced she didn’t really care.
What he had discussed with me was Emma’s upcoming eighteenth birthday. Legally, this meant that his daughter wasn’t bound by any custody agreements and could stay wherever she wanted to. As she still hadn’t graduated, the school district preferred that her residence was with at least one of her parents, though they’d entertain the prospect of emancipation. But Emma wasn’t really keen on getting her own place anyway, especially since she’d been accepted to school in Minnesota. If anything, she wanted to head up there after getting her diploma.
For now though, it appeared that she was leaning towards living with Will full time. Or at least at the duplex, whether or not he was there. And even though I would gladly have welcomed her at my house, that wasn’t a discussion that I was going to start without solicitation. Will mentioned in passing that his lease didn’t run out until after she’d be on her way to college, and I didn’t press any further. He was a proud kind of guy, and I knew he didn’t want me to swoop in and either write a check for her rent somewhere else, or to buy him out of his own lease.
What I did do was an overhaul of my guest room. I never made it known that it was for Emma specifically, though I had styled it more with an eighteen year old in mind than for someone my age. I hadn’t even technically shown it to Will, though I suspected he knew it was there and that it had been decorated just for her.
When his gun safe showed up in the master, I knew the living arrangements were as good as official. There would be no more police issued firearm taking up residence on my kitchen table when he stopped by after work. No more quick trips back to the duplex in order to secure it at my insistence. He knew of my distaste for guns, no matter whether or not he was expertly trained at using them. I was not, and their presence creeped me out.
Yes, I knew that the gun was a necessary evil given his line of duty, but I didn’t have to like it. It was a part of his job, but not the part that I cared to think about. I preferred to think about him getting little old ladies across the street, assisting stranded motorists, occasionally writing the dreaded traffic ticket. Not having to protect himself from equally armed bad guys.
Now the handcuffs, they were a different story. And picking up on that fact, he had brilliantly left them on top of the nightstand that stood on the side of my bed that he’d more or less claimed as his own. The metal glinted in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through my window, drawing me to them even more.
They were in my hands when the bedroom door opened further and Will walked in. Caught, I set them down abruptly.
“Too soon?” he asked, a giant grin lighting his face.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. His words had a double meaning, one that I wasn’t certain I had the brain capacity to figure out. Was he fishing for my blessing that he’d brought them here, or was he just a bit too proud of that day we’d christened the futon at work?
“You’re breathtaking when you’re flustered.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“It was definitely a compliment, darling.”
He crossed the bedroom, coming to stand beside me. His hand reached out, an index finger curling a strand of hair behind my ear, then trailing down my jaw. I shivered, leaning in to his body and letting him support me. Trust me, he was happy to.
“What’s on the agenda for tonight?” I asked as he nuzzled against my neck, the coarse hair of his goatee tickling my skin. “Obviously, you don’t have to work.”
“Nope. I made us dinner reservations.”
I jerked to attention. That was so unlike him. If anything, Friday nights where he didn’t have to work were spent on the couch, knocking back a few drinks over a pizza or burgers. Definitely not going out, especially somewhere that required you to
call ahead.
“What are we celebrating?” I asked, my eyebrow raising.
Still focused on the sweet spot behind my ear, he grumbled his response huskily. “Never having to say goodbye again.”
My heart stuttered to a stop even as my eyes clouded with tears. I spun around, not caring that his lips broke contact with my neck, because I needed them elsewhere, right now. My mouth reached for his, claiming his tongue, taking in the air he breathed as my own.
“I love you so God damn much,” I whispered as we parted briefly, just long enough for him to lower me gently to the mattress.
He hovered above me for a moment, his emerald green eyes lit with a desire I’d never before seen. Even after all the times we’d fucked, had sex, made love, whatever, this was still new. A new turn in the evolution of our relationship, a different layer to his devotion to me. Though I was well past the point of questioning whether he loved me or not, tonight it was written all over his face.
I hoped like hell it was reflected back in what he saw. Even if it wasn’t, it didn’t seem to dissuade him. His fingers laced in mine, forcing my arms above my head. He let go, tugging on the hem of my sweater and pulling it upwards. I lifted my body just enough to allow him to remove it. Once that had been disposed of, he pushed me back down.
His shirt came off soon after, then he was mounting me. One denim clad leg on either side of my hips, his erection pressed firmly against me. I couldn’t suppress my moan, and he smirked. Then his bare chest brushed the smooth satin of my bra as his elbows settled above my shoulders, propping him up so that I wasn’t bearing the majority of his weight.
His lips crashed into mine, hard and full of urgency. My hands fisted in his hair. His heartbeat thundered against my breasts, matching my own frantic pulse. Long ago, we had perfected the skill of breathing while making out, so we could have stayed like that for hours.
I wanted to stay like that for the rest of my life.
Every so often, he’d break away in order to declare something remarkably sweet and romantic. My personal favorite was “I have no idea how I ever lived without you.”
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