by R. C. Martin
“Hey, Skank. How’s it going?”
“I—oh, fuck,” I moan, clamping a hand around Trevor’s leg as I grab hold of Logan’s fingers.
“That well, huh?”
“I—forgot—shit—I forgot how much—I forgot how much this hurts.”
“You’re doing great, Daph,” Trevor tells me, sweeping my bangs from out of my eyes.
“You know, you could always ask for some drugs.”
I scowl at my best friend. “Are you having a blonde moment?”
“What?” she asks with an innocent shrug. “You have two tattoos and two piercings, you can handle a needle.”
“So not the same thing! There is no way in hell I’m getting a big ass needle jammed into my back and you know it.” She rolls her eyes and grumbles her understanding just as my nurse and Roman enter the room.
“Look who I found,” she announces, as if she’s done me a favor. She’s sweet and incredibly accommodating, but I scoff at her before I address my brother.
“No,” I declare, shaking my head at the sight of him. “You don’t get to be in here for this, Rome. Out.”
“Daphne—”
I don’t hear what he has to say as I’m annihilated by another contraction. They’re getting closer together and I’m starting to feel the urge to push. I don’t care what my brother’s argument is, he’s not going to be in this room when my legs go in the stirrups. As soon as the pain begins to subside, all I have to do is give Logan a look and she understands.
“Babe, you’ve got to go,” she tells him as she makes her way toward him. He starts to protest and she silences him with a kiss. “Come on, you’ve done this before, you know she doesn’t want you in here.”
“But—”
“It’s the penis,” she says, pushing him back towards the door. “I appreciate that you have one, but it makes you ineligible to be the sibling by her bedside when she’s pushing a human out of her vagina.”
“Trevor has—”
“Really?” she laughs. “You’re going to make me go there? Because I will, you know I will.” He seals his lips and offers me a curt nod before he kisses Logan and turns for the door.
“Wait,” I call out before he’s gone. “I tried calling dad—”
“I called, too. He said they’ll come up whenever you want.”
“Thanks.”
My relationship with my parents over the past few months has evolved. I’m happy to report that we’re on rocky ground, at best. Better than nothing, right? Needless to say, I have no interest in my mother being here for the birthing of the child she initially scoffed; but I do want them to meet her. They can come up later. Maybe tonight.
“You’ve got this, sis,” Roman encourages me, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
Another contraction hits and it hurts so bad I want to yell out every obscene word in my vocabulary. I list off a few before I turn to Trevor and grab a fistful of his shirt. “You’re lucky you’re so good in bed or I might start swearing off sex any minute.” His eyes open wide in horror—from my threat or his shock at my level of pain, I’m not sure—and it makes me want to laugh. My baby girl has other plans.
“I want to push,” I tell the nurse. “Please, let me push.”
“Let me just go grab the doctor, alright? We’ll see what he says.”
It’s another five minutes before Dr. Phelps comes into the room. I like him more now than I did before. He’s exactly as I remembered and he remembered me, too; he’s been very good with easing Trevor and answering all of his questions. Like my first time, he’s thorough and patient and I appreciate that more than he knows. When he goes down between my legs, I’m happy to have him there so long as I’m allowed to push. When he gives me the go ahead, everything that follows goes by so fast. The pushing leads to agony and then the agony leads to relief and she’s out.
She’s out!
The second I hear her little pathetic cry, my heart breaks. Only this time, it doesn’t shatter into pieces; it simply splits open to accommodate the overwhelming love of a mother.
The instant they place her on my chest, everything else seems to fade away and the only thing I feel is the weight of my little one. I so desperately wish to comfort her, to ease her fear. I imagine that what she just went through was as traumatic for her as it was for me. But I barely get a chance to provide her any solace. Trevor cuts the umbilical cord with steady hands and then they whisk our daughter away to clean her off and check her over.
“Is she okay?” My voice comes out in a whimper as I feel distraught with her out of my sight.
“She’s gorgeous, Daphne. Ten fingers, ten toes, a healthy set of lungs,” says Dr. Phelps with a broad smile.
“Trev—” I begin to say, only slightly placated by the doctor’s reassurances.
“Are you alright?” he murmurs, gripping my fingers as he leans down to rest his forehead against mine.
“I’m fine. I don’t want her to be alone. Don’t let her be alone.”
“Okay,” he says before he kisses me and leaves my side.
“You did good, Skank,” Logan tells me, smoothing my hair away from my face. “Did you see all of that hair? She’s definitely inherited the lovely Holloway locks.”
“You should go tell Roman,” I insist. “I’m sure he’s dying to hear something by now.”
“You’re sure you’re all good here?” I nod and she plants a kiss on top of my head before she hurries out of the room.
It feels like forever goes by as I endure the whole afterbirth process and our little girl gets cleaned, weighed, and measured. When it’s finally over, Trevor brings her back to me. Seeing the two of them together makes me tear up. I know I just pushed a human out of my body. It makes sense that I’m feeling completely emotional; and yet, something tells me that the sight of my man cradling our daughter will always make my heart swell.
When he gently places her in my arms, I realize that she doesn’t belong to me.
I belong to her.
“Hi,” I coo through the tears I can’t seem to control. “Hello, my sweet girl. Welcome to the world.”
The nurse helps me get her to latch onto me so that I can feed her. As she eats, I marvel at how a woman’s body—my body—is so wonderfully made to accommodate this new life. I hardly notice as the room slowly empties, leaving just the three of us.
The three of us.
We’ve been talking about it for months now, planning for it—the arrival of our daughter; but I don’t think anything could really prepare me for the reality of it. The three of us, here, together. Before we allow any visitors to join us, Trevor crawls into bed beside me as I cradle our sleeping newborn in my arms. He kisses her forehead delicately before he kisses me.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers. “You were amazing. And she’s…perfect. Thank you,” he says, kissing me once more. “I love you so much.”
“She looks like you,” I say, smiling at him. I know she’s new, but her features are unmistakably proof that she’s Trevor’s daughter.
“She has your eyes and your hair.”
“Yeah.” My eyes well up again and I tilt my head, silently requesting another kiss. He responds without further prompting. “We did good.”
“We did better than good.”
“Here—you should hold her.” I can tell he’s nervous when we make the exchange, probably afraid that she’ll break. I see it in his face, as he holds her snuggly against his chest, that she’s not the one we have to worry about. We made a little heartbreaker and she owns him.
“Hey, Caroline,” he hums as she squirms ever so slightly. “It’s okay. It’s me—daddy.”
A tearful sigh escapes my lips as I rest my head against his shoulder. This moment is everything; everything I never dared to imagine because I never dreamed it could be my reality. As I surrender to my exhaustion, allowing my eyes to close for just a moment, I listen to Trevor whisper sweet nothings to our Caroline Ai
den and I fall in love with him just a little bit more. This is my life now. This is my family. This is my happiness. I know, just because I know, that I will love them without abandon, without caution, without fear—I will strive to love them recklessly and it will be my greatest accomplishment.
Intermission
Just for you: A sneak peek into Book 3 of the Made for Love series!
I can do this. I can smile my way through the next hour. Two, tops.
Shit. I’m the maid of honor, for crying out loud, it’s in my job description! Today is not about me. This whole weekend—it’s not about me! It’s about my best friend—that beautiful bride who is out there dancing with her husband while I sit here, alone, trying to drum up the energy to reapply my smile.
Addison has been looking forward to this day since before I met her, five years ago. Beckham is the love of her life and they’ve climbed mountains to get here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for them. I truly am. Not to mention that it’s been wonderful getting to spend the weekend with friends; it’s practically a college reunion with everyone in our group back in town to celebrate the nuptials we’ve all been anxiously anticipating.
Yet, no matter how happy I am for the newly named Mr. and Mrs. Willis, I can’t ignore the state of my own heart. I want to. Believe me, it’s preferable. If I could just lock that little bitch up and throw away the key until she felt like playing nice, I would. Unfortunately, I’ve put her through the wringer and I can’t blame her for rebelling against my attempts to avoid my reality—even if just for a few days.
“You and that dress are way too hot to be sitting over here all by yourself,” says Claire as she plops down in the seat next to mine.
I manage a half-hearted smirk as I look over at her, wearing the same pale blue strapless number that I am. I will admit that Addie chose bridesmaids dresses that are so pretty they should be offended to be titled as such. As for the state of my own beauty—I wouldn’t know. I’ve been avoiding mirrors as much as possible these days. Looking at my reflection is just far too humiliating knowing who I’ve become.
“Oh, yeah?” I murmur. “What’s your excuse?”
“I’m not alone. I’m with you, now.”
“And Jackson?” I ask, referring to her husband.
Jackson and Claire are in town from Georgia, where they settled down after college. Jackson’s destiny is there; he was born and bred to be a part of the family business. He was given the freedom to study and play football wherever he wanted—which is how he ended up at Colorado State—but he always knew his stint here was temporary. Lucky for him, he loves his family and his job. Lucky for Claire, he loved her so much he refused to go home without her. They’ve been married for just over a year. Their anniversary was a couple weeks ago.
I remember their wedding fondly. She dressed me in teal.
“I’m giving him a break. I’ve made him dance with me for the past hour. He’s grabbing us some cake. You, too—you look like you could use some.”
Cake. Yeah—cake is good. I’ve already eaten two slices, but who’s counting? I’ve got a sweet-tooth like nobody’s business. Baked goods are my thing. I’m not a fan of candy. No, candy is for children…
Children. Fuck. Even just the word makes me want to curl up into a ball and hide in the corner.
Fuck—now fuck has become a word I use as if I have no sensor.
Though I suppose I won’t be needing a sensor anymore.
Ugh. Screw the cake. What I’d enjoy even more is a kitchen in which I could throw on an apron and bake the cake. Or a hundred cakes. Or maybe some cupcakes with some freshly whipped up buttercream frosting. With some alcohol. Yeah—spiked cupcakes with spiked frosting.
No judgement. I wouldn’t eat them all. Just a couple. I’d give the rest away. I usually do. Baking helps take my mind off of things. Always has.
“Sarah?”
“What? I’m sorry.”
She furrows her brow at me, showcasing her concern. Apparently I’m not doing a very fine job of reapplying my smile. It’s as if she sees right through me. I breathe in deeply when she reaches over and tucks a stray blonde lock behind my ear. “Something’s going on with you. Are you okay?”
At first, I don’t know what to say. The answer to the question is: Hell no! Nobody knows that, though. I’ve been hiding the truth. Hiding. Avoiding. Evading. Whatever. I know I have to deal with it, but this weekend…it’s not about me.
Even still, as I try and rationalize the lie that I’ve been repeating, the lie that is at the tip of my tongue, I realize I’m a shitty friend for not fessing up. I’ve spent all weekend with the people who know me best. If they knew what I’ve been keeping from them, they’d be pissed. Even still—there’s no way I can let my mess, my stupid decisions, and my broken heart trample through the bliss that has been Beck and Addie’s wedding weekend.
I’m pulled from my thoughts at the sound of a familiar giggle. I look away from Claire and spot Avery—Addie’s carbon-copy and matron of honor—with Grayson—Beckham’s best man—as they head for the exit of the ballroom. The reception is still going on all around us. Grayson and Avery were married last summer, too. Their anniversary is next month.
It was a glorious wedding. She dressed me in green.
I watch as their pace grows faster the closer they get to the door. Then, just as they cross the threshold, Grayson scoops Avery up and over his shoulder. She squeals, clapping her hands over her grin as he playfully bites her side and quickly carries her out of sight.
“Oh, my god! They’re totally sneaking off to have sex right now,” Claire chuckles. “Color me impressed and extraordinarily proud. Our angel, Avery, is all grown up.”
Another half-hearted attempt at a smile plays at the corners of my mouth. What I just witnessed is supposed to have me lost in a fit of giggles. I never thought I’d see the day when Avery, of all people, would be slipping away from her sister’s wedding to have a steamy rendezvous with her man, only God knows where. Then again, I never thought I’d see my life fall apart the way that it has, either. I’m single, unemployed, unhappy, humiliated and, dammit—
I’m officially the only girl left in our group not married. I’m so far from being married, it’s not even funny. That would be okay if I didn’t want to be married. But I do!
Or I did.
Or...I think I might.
Now, even just the idea of me being in a relationship causes the bitch that is my heart to give me the finger. I don’t blame her. My love life is pretty much a shit show. I don’t pick men well. I’m seriously wondering if I’m meant to be celibate. I pray to God that’s not true. Honestly, no one should have to be celibate. If pure, little, innocent Avery is getting laid, we all should be getting laid.
Then again, maybe it’s not the men I choose. Maybe it’s just me. A crippling thought, considering I can’t be anyone else.
“Okay—either you start talking, or I’m going to find the sexiest guy in here to come over and stick his ass in that lap of yours. If I can’t find someone single, Jack will have to do, and that could just get awkward. So, take your pick. Truth or lap dance?”
I hesitate and she arches an eyebrow at me before she stands to survey the room.
“Fine, fine!” I concede, knowing full well that she’ll follow through with her threat.
She sits, folds her hands in her lap, and looks at me expectantly.
“I—”
That’s as far as I get before my head is flooded with the most painful memories that span over the past few weeks. I think of Luke. Micah. My classroom. Those little desks I love so much. The smiling faces that I won’t be seeing next year. I seal my eyes shut, willing my tears to stay away from my cheeks. I can’t cry right now. If I start, it’ll be like a torrential downpour I won’t be able to control. I’ve been saving up my tears for the last few days, promising myself a good cry when my maid of honor duties are complete. They aren’t complete, yet. I can’t cry now. Right now, I have to smile.
I nod my thanks as I swallow the knot in my throat.
“You know, you’re making it very hard for me to want to get on a plane tomorrow morning. You’re also making it incredibly difficult to keep from slapping you. I can’t believe you’ve been carrying around something this big for the last three days without saying anything. I’m half tempted to pack you in my suitcase and bring you home with me until I’ve heard every last hairy detail.”
“I’d go with you if I knew I’d fit,” I quip, opening my eyes. “Unfortunately, I know how many shoes you packed.”
“Wait, you’d really come? What am I talking about? You’re a teacher! You have the next month and a half off. Of course you could come. You should come! At least for a week or two. You don’t have anything planned, do you? If you do, cancel it. This trip will be so much better.”
I was only kidding before. Sure, the idea of running away from my problems seems incredibly alluring. Stupid, irresponsible, and reckless—but those are the adjectives best used to describe most of my decisions lately. At least this one would leave me in the company of good friends.
“I’m serious, Sarah. Jack and I would still have work, but we can take a couple long weekends. Besides, some Georgia sun might do you some good. I know I don’t know what’s happening in your life, but I want to—and I can’t call myself a friend if I leave you in this state. So will you come?”
I think rationally for two seconds. I have enough money saved up to last me until the end of the summer. I have no idea where I’m going to go in the fall or what I’m going to do for work but, I don’t have the energy to think about that right now. Right now, I can barely manage a smile. Right now, I want to run.
“Jack wouldn’t mind if I crashed on your couch for a while?”
“Babe—there’s a queen size bed in our guest room that has your name scribbled all over it.”
“Okay,” I murmur, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. “I’ll buy my ticket tonight.”
