Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2)

by Zoe Norman

  Owen and I have discussed this at length, and we both want to know. We want to be able to start planning for the birth of the baby and picking out names.

  "We want to know the sex," I confirm, and Owen pulls his chair closer to me and squeezes my hand.

  There is a soft knock on the door followed by its opening a crack. A women’s voice comes through, “Dr. Evans, are you ready for me?”

  “Come on in, Candy.” Dr. Evans says, typing some information on the keyboard.

  A young woman, clearly a nurse, enters the room and settles on a stool on the other side of the table.

  “This is Candy,” Dr. Evans gestures to his assistant. “Candy, this is Olivia and Owen. They’re here to see their little one for the first time and check out what they’re having!” He sounds as excited as we are, and it makes me smile. Dr. Evans looks over at us. “Owen, Candy is here to observe because I’m going to be checking Olivia’s cervix. We like to have a woman in the room when an internal exam is going to be done. It’s strictly procedure.”

  I nod and look over at Owen, who is scowling at the mention of the internal exam. This too makes me smile. Silly man.

  Dr. Evans picks up the bottle of gel. "This is warmed, so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable," he grins as he starts to squirt the bottle of gel over my belly, leaving a large circle and a couple of squiggles behind.

  It tickles, and I shimmy.

  Dr. Evans places the ultrasound transducer on my abdomen and spreads the gel around. He then stops and presses down on my belly. Suddenly, the room is filled with a loud whooshing noise. It's fast. It's echoing. It's...a heartbeat.

  "Uh, what's that noise?" Owen asks, looking terrified. Knowing him, I am sure he probably thinks it's an alien.

  One lone tear falls down my cheek on the side Owen is sitting as I listen to the sound of our baby's heartbeat. Panicked, he wipes it away. Owen has seen printouts of the heartbeat, something the doctor doesn’t normally do, but because he couldn’t make it to the appointment, I had to follow up with the doctor from the hospital after the accident. They gave me a printout to show him. But he hasn’t heard it yet, and it is a phenomenal sound.

  "That, Owen, is the heartbeat of your little baby." The doctor keeps moving the ultrasound device as I turn to look at Owen. He is staring at my belly, and then I see it. Tears. In his eyes. Oh God. Of joy? Of terror? Of fear?

  "Owen, baby..." I reach out to cup his face, and his eyes move locking with mine, brimming with tears.

  "That's our baby?" he asks, his eyes wide with wonderment.

  I nod silently. He bends toward me and captures my mouth in a reverent kiss, a grin across his face.

  "And here is your little one," Dr. Evans says, pulling our gazes from each other to where he is pointing.

  There on the screen is a tiny, grey...baby. It has a head and arms and legs. Owen sucks in a breath, and a new barrage of tears start.

  "Oh...my...God,” Owen says. "That's... That's our baby?" he asks Dr. Evans.

  "It sure is, and it looks great. I'm going to take some measurements real quick, and then we can go in search of the million-dollar question!"

  We sit rapt as he measures the baby's neck, legs, and heart. It's amazing. Owen and I watch in awe as he points out organs and bones, little feet and hands. Our little one is very active today, more so than the last time I saw it, and it’s so entertaining and odd to see this live, given that I still can’t feel it.

  Owen's breathing is erratic, and just as he starts to calm, a new baby part comes into view and it accelerates again. He squeezes my hand intermittently, and as drawn as I am to the pictures of our baby on the monitor, I am almost more drawn to the looks on Owen's face. I can't stop staring at him. He is floored...and it warms my heart so much. How I could have thought he wouldn't want this baby is beyond me.

  "Okay, kids. Ready to go looking for genitalia?!" Dr. Evans starts to laugh at his little OB joke, and Owen pulls himself closer to the screen. I don't really care what we have, as long as it's healthy, and I know Owen feels the same. "Okay, so here we have some legs. Squirmy little bugger you have there. Let me see if I can get a better view." After a few minutes of a lot of borderline-painful pushing on my abdomen, he says, "Ah ha!"

  Owen and I pop our heads up. "Can you see it?" I ask.

  "See that little thing right there?" The doctor points to the two legs...and a very tiny something between them.

  "Is that what I think it is?" I ask, a big grin coming across my face.

  "If you think it's a penis...then yes! Congratulations! You're having a boy!"

  Before I know what's happening, Owen is on his feet, whooping. Then he flies down, taking my head in his big hands, kissing my face all over, and finally settling over my lips. "I love you so, so fucking much Olivia," he says. He leans farther, kissing me—rather indecently, actually, but I don't care. He mumbles between kisses, "Love... Love you...so much... Baby boy... A boy... God, I love you."

  When Owen pulls away, we turn to find Dr. Evans and his nurse smiling warmly at us. A boy. A little Owen. Oh, there are so many of his characteristics I want our soon-to-be little man to take from his father. Visions of him visiting his firefighter daddy at work, of a little boy with Owen's beautiful hair, beautiful eyes, beautiful smile.

  "Well, I'm glad to see you so excited!" Dr. Evans says with a big grin. Then he moves between my legs, gently placing my feet in the stirrups, and says, "I'm just going to check your cervix quickly, Olivia. I won't do this again until you're closer to your due date, but I just want to check one last time following the accident."

  To Owen's horror, he squirts gel on his fingers and presses them into me. I think Owen might pass out as he starts to sway at the sight of another man’s fingers in me, his mouth gaping open.

  Dr. Evans removes his fingers and nods his head. "Perfect. Totally closed. You're in the clear Olivia."

  Owen's face goes from horrified to relieved before he settles back in the chair.

  "I'll print out some still shots here for you. First pictures of baby!"

  He works diligently for a few more minutes, printing out pictures of the baby and taking notes while his nurse wipes the gel off my abdomen and instructs me to get dressed. When I'm done and I come out, Owen is sitting in the chair, staring at the pictures. His tears have returned. I stand before him, between his spread legs.

  He wraps one arm around me, still lost in the photos. "It's just so crazy Liv. We did this. We didn't even know we did this. It could have been in the shower, or the bed, or the kitchen, or the roof-top deck, or the—"

  I put a finger over his mouth. "I get it," I tell him and give a laugh.

  Owen bends, his voice falling to a loud whisper, "Hi little baby boy. It's your dad." He looks up at me and pulls me down for a kiss.

  While we’re mid embrace, Dr. Evans walks back in. I sit on the edge of the table again and Dr. Evans goes through the information he gathered during the ultrasound and some next steps. The baby looks great, he says—all systems go. He then asks if we have any questions. I look expectantly over at Owen.

  Owen pulls out his list of questions a little sheepishly. "I have a few questions, doctor," he says.

  "Sure, Owen. Shoot."

  Owen goes through his list, asking questions about vitamins, lifting things, work schedules, hot baths, taking long car rides, walking up stairs in our brownstone, cooking, food choices—the list goes on. This boy has done some research. I'm kind of impressed.

  "And last...um...sex."

  Dr. Evans gives Owen a smile. "What about it, Owen? If you're asking if you can have sexual relations, you absolutely can—all the way up to delivery. In fact, some people swear that having sex helps to start the labor process for women who are overdue!"

  "Um, well, I figured that but…does it matter what kind of sex we have?"

  Dr. Evans looks puzzled. "What do you mean, what kind of sex?"

  "Yes, Owen. What do you mean by what kind of sex?" I ask, alarmed. Where is he g
oing with this?

  "I mean, sometimes, we like it a little rough. You know, hard, like slamming—"

  I hold a hand up, silencing him before he says any more. I can't help but giggle. "What Owen is trying to say is that, sometimes, we like to have rough sex, and will that hurt the baby?"

  Dr. Evans shakes his head. "The force at which you penetrate has no impact on the baby whatsoever. Go for it!"

  Owen blushes about thirty shades of red but looks relieved nonetheless. "What about oral sex or weird positions. Sometimes against the wall or something? Or multiple times a day? I mean, we sometimes go—"

  Again, I lift my hand, looking mortified.

  Dr. Evans lets out a laugh. "Owen, your sex life shouldn't change in the least. A healthy sex life is a great way to keep Olivia relaxed during the pregnancy. Plus, Olivia will very likely have a heightened sexual desire during pregnancy starting just about now. So I suggest you take advantage of that before your little one comes along." He gives us both a warm smile.

  Owen looks quite pleased with himself. "Well, I can barely keep her off me now, so—"

  "Okay! Well, thank you for all the information, Dr. Evans," I say with a clap of the hands. "I don't think we have any other questions for you, right, honey?" I look at Owen with an 'ask another question or tell him anything else about our sex life and I'll smack you' look.

  "Oh, yeah. No more questions." Owen stands and puts his hand out to shake the doctor's. When he leaves the room, Owen turns to me, a big grin on his face. He reaches out and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me into him. "We're having a son," he says.

  "I know. Pretty cool, huh?"

  "Do you have any idea how much I love you, Olivia?"

  When I smile, he grabs the back of my head and kissing me deeply.

  He murmurs against my mouth, "And since the doctor encourages it, I'm going to take you home right now and fuck you into next week. You okay with that?"

  I giggle as he nibbles on my neck. "Oh yes," I say.

  We leave the doctor's office hand in hand, grinning and grateful.

  "I THINK HE'S OVER there by the grills, under that tent."

  It's Saturday and there is a street fair just outside the firehouse today. I spent the morning with Laney looking at cribs and baby furniture, and now, I've come to meet Owen at the fair to spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out.

  Every year, his firehouse volunteers both time and food to the fair, using proceeds to go to the families of 9/11 victims. The guys man the grills and fryers, putting out traditional fair foods like fried dough and hot dogs. It's warm out today, and now that I'm starting to show, I have myself in a flowing sundress.

  Lately, comfort and ease are at the top of my fashion game. Owen is obsessed with my baby bump and spends an inordinate amount of time talking to the baby, telling him all the ways of manhood while I grin lovingly at him. It's precious to see a man’s tough exterior chipped away, and I can't wait to see him with our little one.

  Laney notices Tanner standing over by the face painting booth, talking to a friend. "Ah! There's my boy. I'm going to go grab him. You good?"

  "Yup. I'll just be over at the food tent. Nowadays, that's my favorite place to be, even if my man isn't running it," I laugh.

  Laney giggles with me before giving me a wave and leaving to join Tanner.

  I make my way to the tent, coming up from behind. There is an opening in the back to allow the hot air from the grills to escape. Through the opening, I see Owen laughing and chitchatting with Saul. I love his smile—it takes my breath away even from here.

  Owen is bent over, cracking up at something Saul must have said. As I make my way to the tent and get closer, I can overhear their conversation. I pause just to the side of the opening where I know they can't see me. To eavesdrop or not to eavesdrop—that is the question. Historically, eavesdropping has brought me nothing but pain, and massive arguments with Owen. This is probably a bad idea. But then I hear my name...

  "So Liv is how far along now?" Saul asks Owen.

  "Five, almost six months. Dude, she's showing. It’s fucking crazy. There's a tiny baby in there. I helped make it. It's my son."

  I can hear the smile and pride in Owen's voice and it melts my heart.

  "Man, I know the feeling. When my daughter was born, it blew me away that I’d created this little person. Scary as shit though, right?" Saul laughs as he says this.

  "It totally is. I'm completely freaked out…" His voice trails and my heart drops. This is where I realize that eavesdropping was a bad idea. "But you know, Liv is so confident and she just seems so...relaxed about it. She totally puts me at ease, and I just kind of roll with where she's at, you know? Like when I start to freak out about stuff like the baby having three legs or a wicked-small dick, she makes me feel better."

  My hope renews as I hear his words. He's right. He has been a complete worrywart. While some might find it annoying, I'm just so grateful that he wants this baby that there is an element of relief. His sense of interest and love for this unborn child provides stability to me. It's a form of commitment on his part, and that completely overwhelms me in the best way possible.

  "Oh...and dude. Dude! She is so fucking horny." He says this a little too loud, and Saul starts to guffaw. Owen drops his voice marginally. "She wants to fuck, like, always. It's insane. And she comes so fucking hard." Well, he's not wrong there. My libido is out of control. It's almost annoying how much I need to have sex. Well, okay, it's not annoying at all. But it is time consuming.

  "Okay, okay, man. Too much information there." Saul laughs.

  "What, you jealous, man?" Owen taunts, and they break into another fit of laughter.

  I can hear one of them hit the other on the back and what sounds like some kind of slapping hand shake. Men are so weird. I decide that it's time for me to come out of my hiding place and get to my man.

  When I walk around the side of the large tent, I feel a hand on my elbow. It's Molly. Oh sweet Jesus. Seriously? I last saw her at the beach party, and while that interaction went well, I'm not exactly interested in making friends with her.

  "Oh hi, Molly. How are you?" I say with as genuine a smile as I can muster. I’m sure it's not genuine at all, and for that, I'm not exactly sorry.

  She smiles, and then her eyes move down my body to my obvious baby bump. I can't help the grin that comes over my face.

  "Uh, wow. Um, hey, Olivia. Wow, you're...um..."

  I smile. "Pregnant. Yes."

  She frowns—not in anger, but almost in sorrow. I feel a small amount of sympathy for her—until I don't. Her eyes don't come off my belly, so I finally decide to break the awkward silence.

  "How are you? You look great!" I say.

  I'm not really lying. She does look great. She's wearing a pair of very short shorts and a fitted tank top, both of which highlight her very toned and voluptuous body. Of course, this makes me suddenly feel enormous and very self-conscious. Great. I somehow went from the gloating new girlfriend carrying her ex's baby to the fat chick who can't fit in short shorts anymore.

  Molly finally looks up at me, meeting my eyes and giving me a fake smile. "Oh. I'm good. I'm here with some friends. I used to...well... I used to come to this every year so...yeah." Her voice fades. "How far along are you?"

  "Five and a half months." I can feel my self-conscious streak rearing its ugly head once more.

  "Wow. That's amazing, Olivia. I'm really happy for you. You and...Owen." She looks vaguely sincere.

  I need to take the high road, be nice, and get going. I wonder to myself if Owen would take the high road if the tables were turned and this were Jay. I can say with absolute certainty that the answer to that would be no. Although that knowledge shouldn’t make me behave any differently.

  "Thanks, Molly. That's nice of you. We're really happy." I give her another forced smile. "Unfortunately, I have to get going. I told Owen I'd meet him and I'm already a little late. He'll be worried." I'm lying to get away from h
er, although it's kind of a truth. I'm, like, four minutes late.

  "Oh okay. Well, say hi and congratulations to Owen for me. And congrats to you too, Olivia. You two are going to make amazing parents." The sadness in her eyes isn't lost on me, and that tinge of feeling sorry for her comes back, but it’s fleeting.

  After we nod to each other, I come back around the side of the tent. As I approach, I see Owen talking to a very underdressed young woman. She looks to be in maybe her later twenties. She is bent forward, clearly making an effort to push her tits together in a ‘hey, look at my tits’ move. Owen is leaning on one hand against the table, chatting with her, and laughing. He is pointing at the sign behind his head with the list of foods available. I stand in the corner, waiting for him to notice me.

  "Mmmm. Fried dough sounds so good, but I totally don't need it. I'll look fat!" she says with an annoying, high-pitched voice.

  Owen smiles at her. "You're not fat. Go ahead and have one. Really, they're super good. My girlfriend loves fried dough and she's perfect, so you should be fine. Go for it!"

  Her face falls, but mine lights up. Goddammit, I love this man. My jealousy can still sometimes take a hit, but lately, it's always unfounded. I decide to take this opportunity to let him know that I'm here.

  "Anyone around here know where I can get a fried dough? This baby isn't going to feed itself!"

  Owen spins around, an enormous smile on his face. He looks like he just won the jackpot. My heart jumps into my throat as I smile back. My man is so hot today. He's tan, and his hair is a little lighter and a little shaggier. He's wearing cargo shorts and a tight FDNY T-shirt. Tight not because it doesn't fit him, but because he's so damn cut that everything is tight on him in the best way possible.

  He strides toward me, the girl with the tits long forgotten. Saul steps in, giving us an approving grin before taking her order. Owen reaches me and wraps his arms around me, his hands under my ass, lifting me to him, kisses me hard, then abruptly puts me down.

  His impromptu Dirty Dancing move has caused my dress to hike up, likely baring the bottom of my ass to anyone that was behind me. As he wraps his arms around my waist, he seems to notice this and pulls back slightly to look down at me, his hands still firmly around my middle.