by Stacy Gail
Dr. Smirnova’s smile flashed again. “Out of the thousands of patients I’ve taken care of in the OR, there have only been about half a dozen or so who’ve had red hair. You gingers are just two percent of the worldwide population, so this to be expected. The first redheaded patient I had was about fifteen years ago—a huge high school football player with a badly broken leg. Despite being healthy otherwise, he almost tanked on me. Very much like you did when you were having your appendix out,” she added, nodding at Dallas. “It was such a shock, you have no idea. So I began to research the difference between people who have this recessive trait, versus the rest of the world. I even wrote a paper about it, should you ever want to research how fascinating and wondrous your genetic makeup is.”
“So you really are an expert.” A relieved breath whooshed out of Dallas in the form of laughter, and she found herself squeezing Killian’s hand. “Okay. I can relax now.”
“You’re in good hands, Mrs. Brody. And while I’m thinking about it, you might want to hang onto my card,” she added, reaching into her coat pocket and handing it to Killian, before she pushed to her feet. “You’re a young couple just starting out in life. When it’s time for you to start your family, make sure you get an OB/GYN who belongs to my doctors’ group. You’ll have a head start on knowing you’ve got someone on call who can handle any potential crisis that might arise with you.”
Oh my God, Dallas thought while her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God...
“That’s one question I had,” Killian asked, pocketing the card and acting like what the doctor had said wasn’t something to totally freak out about. “What kind of recovery time are we looking at here for Dallas? When will it be safe for us to think about having kids?”
She turned to gape at him, but he ignored her.
That the actual hell...?
Dr. Smirnova began to tick items off on her fingers. “General rules for major surgery like this one—no lifting anything over ten pounds for two to three weeks. Basically, if it hurts, don’t do it. No driving for six weeks, and the same can be said for sex. No heavy-duty athletic endeavors for three months, such as running a marathon. You’re not a marathon runner, are you?”
Finally Dallas found her voice. “Not a chance.”
“As for having children, I would think four to six months post-op would be enough time for your liver to recover, but you should talk to the docs performing the surgery just to be sure. Even though we’ll be as gentle as possible, you’re about to sustain a significant injury to your body. You must give your liver a chance to heal before trying to create another human being.” Then she beamed. “But that thought is exciting, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Killian said, squeezing her hand once again. She was glad he’d said something; she was simply too far gone in the realms of surreal shock to find her voice.
“Well, I’ve dawdled long enough with you two lovely people. I’m going to go and talk with the surgical team that’s going to work on you, Mrs. Brody, and let them know you’re ready to get the party started. See you down in pre-op,” she added with a cheery wave, and let the heavy door swing shut behind her.
“When will it be safe enough to have kids?” Dallas surged to her feet and turned around to stare at him. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Killian’s brows shot up. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She actually face-palmed. “Are you frigging serious?”
“What?” He came to his feet as well, but he was a lot more impressive when he did it, looming over her in all his Brody glory. “What did I do that was so damn wrong? Did I embarrass you?”
“Embarrass me? No. Confound me? Yes. Frustrate me? Hell, yes. Make me want to throw you out that window? Oh my God, I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Then his face closed up right before her eyes, and it was an ominous sight to see. “Are you saying you don’t want kids? Is that what this is about? You don’t want kids.”
“I’ve never imagined having kids, and that’s not even close to the point.”
“Then what is?”
She couldn’t believe she had to spell it out for him. “You and I are not going to have children together.”
That brought his brows snapping down. “Why the hell not?”
“Because none of this is real. Just as soon as you realize I’m not going to die and I’m well on my way to recovery, you’re going to start wondering why you married me.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Trust me, you will, because I’m already wondering that. I mean, you being allowed into the ICU to be with me now that we’re officially family seems like a pretty lame reason to go into something as life-altering as marriage. Maybe I shouldn’t have rolled with it because inevitably there are going to be consequences for such rash behavior, but I was scared and I wasn’t thinking straight. I am now, though. Straight enough, anyway, to see that you just upped the crazy-ante with talk of making babies, so this is where I draw the line. We have to remember what reality is, and baby-making isn’t it.”
“The hell it isn’t.” His scowl was enough to make her back up a hasty step, but it wasn’t enough to escape the hands that snagged her up and hauled her in. “I know it happened fast and the scene was kind of tense, but you do remember telling me you loved me, yeah?”
Crap. “My feelings are my responsibility, not yours.”
He stared at her as if she were speaking in another language. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
Maybe they were speaking in different languages, after all. “It means you don’t have to feel responsible for me just because I was stupid enough to fall in love with you. Yes, you dragged me into your world, but you didn’t make me fall in love with you, okay? I mean, there have been times when you’ve been a bossy, ridiculously impulsive bonehead, so I can assure you that you didn’t win my heart with your kidnapping ways and penchant for Pikachu pajamas. I fell for you all on my own, so you don’t have to feel responsible for me to the point where you have to marry me just to protect me.”
He was quiet for a full beat. “Are you finished?”
Why did that feel like a trick question? “Maybe.”
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “And you call me a bonehead.”
“Listen, Brody—”
“Oh, no, you don’t, Mrs. Brody. You don’t get to call me that anymore, because you’re a Brody now, too. And you’re going to stay that way,” he added, his tone harder than granite when she tried to correct him. “I put my ring on your finger, and even though it has to be in my pocket for the time being, on your finger is where the fuck it’s going to stay. Obviously you thought getting married wasn’t real, but that’s about as far from the truth as you can get. Who knows? Maybe it’ll seem more real to you when we have more time to do it up right the second time around, when we have a Brody-sized ceremony.”
Her head began to spin. “Wait, wait. The second time...?”
“Whatever glitch it is that you’re suffering,” he went on, talking over her, “I want you to know I’m not mad about it. I’m going to take into account the strain you’re under, and let you retract that shit when you’re calmer and not about to get sliced in half.”
“Gee, that’s big of you.” It was her turn to scowl, though if she thought it would bowl him over, she was doomed to disappointment. “Why the hell would I retract it?”
“Because what you’re saying is bullshit.”
“Look—”
“Dallas, when I put my ring on your finger, it was the most right thing I’ve ever done in my whole goddamn life,” he said, stunning her. “I’m not about to let you even think about undoing it, just because you’ve got it in your head that I don’t know my own frigging mind. I know exactly what the hell I’m doing when it comes to you, woman. When I married you, I gave you something to live for.”
That stopped her cold. “You’d be
tter explain that, because you just made it sound like you think you’re God’s gift to women. Just so you know, there’s nothing less sexy in this whole damn universe than a man who thinks that.”
“Jesus.” Again he looked heavenward in a clear plea for strength. “Whether you cop to it or not, you were pretty damn alone in this world before we crossed paths, with nothing but an aimless string of jobs to your name—a tumbleweed. In a lot of ways I was the same,” he grimaced, lifting a shoulder. “Maybe not with that string of jobs you’ve got that tells the world you’re not comfortable putting down roots in any one place for too long, but still very much the same.”
“Killian—”
“I never stay in one place for long, either,” he talked over her until she gave up with a huff. “I’m always traveling from one city to the next, one deal to the next, and that’s basically what you’ve been doing on a smaller scale. I look at you, and I recognize everything about you, because you and I have walked the same god-awful path. We distance ourselves from everyone, because distance is our insulation. Not getting tied down to any one place means we have no emotional ties, and we tell ourselves that’s a good thing, but it’s not. We’ve both avoided caring about anything, when finding something to care about gives life meaning. If you don’t care about anything, you have nothing to live for. Not really.”
A hard knot formed in her throat at that, and it was so painful it made her eyes water.
He saw it, and his hands slid from her arms to her back, where he rubbed it in sweetly soothing circles. “I pushed you to marry me because I needed you to see that you’ve got a whole world to live for when it comes to me. You’ve got a lifetime of Cracker Jacks and ballgames, early morning coffee dates and all the sexy little thongs you can wear, just as long as you don’t get too pissed off when I rip them off you. It’s why I brought up kids. Starting now, you and I have one hell of a future to build. That was what I wanted you to look forward to when I proposed, Spice. I wanted you to look so forward to that amazing future, you’d fight like hell to stay alive so you could be around to live it with me.”
“I do want that life.” A broken little laugh escaped her. That was how she felt—broken and torn in two different directions. “What you’re saying is wonderful and like a dream, except for one thing. We’d wind up exactly like the tragic nightmare your parents were. When two people are trapped in a loveless marriage, it always ends badly. You need to know that I’ll never bring a child into that kind of world. I lived that nightmare, and so did you. It’s hell on earth, and I just won’t do it.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to pull the plug on us before we even have a chance to see if we’ve got a shot at doing a better job than our weak-ass parents did?” His tone grew edges sharp enough to cut. “And how could you ever think we’d have a loveless marriage? The way we love each other, there’s no way that fire is ever going to go out. It might change over the years, but I can only see us burning brighter as the years go by.”
“Wait.” The internal tearing suddenly stopped in its tracks, and all at once she couldn’t breathe. “What?”
He stared at her like she was crazy. “What do you mean, what?”
Feebly she tried to work lungs that were suddenly the size of walnuts. “I need to ask you something, and it’s really important, so don’t fuck around.”
“Dallas—”
“Do you love me?”
“Yeah, I love you.” The admission came out gruffly, as if he had such little experience in saying the words he wasn’t sure how to frame them. “I kidnapped you for my brother, but I’m keeping you from me. You’re mine, and I never let go of what’s mine.”
Relief and joy shot through her like fireworks before she threw her arms around his neck and held on tight. “You’re right,” she whispered against his ear while the happiness ballooned inside her so fiercely it made her eyes sting. “You and I are going to get married again after all this craziness.”
“Whatever you want, as long as it’s Brody-sized, just like the engagement ring I’m going to go out and get you as soon as you’re conscious.” His arms came around her like unbreakable bands and squeezed the breath out of her. “I was made to make you happy.”
“You do.” Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as she pressed him to her chest. “We just have to promise each other that we’ll never forget how much we love each other. I couldn’t bear it if we ever forgot.”
“We’re not our parents, Spice. They were weak and stupid, and we’re anything but. We learned from their example of how not to be, didn’t we?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, trying not to sniffle in his ear. “We did.”
“And I could never forget how much I love you. Even if I lived a thousand lifetimes, the love I’ve got for you could never be forgotten.”
“I love you, too.” It was the sweetest thing in the world, to hear him say it, and now that he had, it was a wonder she hadn’t figured it out all on her own. She could feel it in every word he spoke, and in the protective way he held her. Her man loved her, and that made her the luckiest woman in the world.
Behind her, the heavy hospital room door opened, letting in a flood of noise into their perfect world. “Mrs. Brody? It’s time to get you down to pre-op.”
“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, she loosened her hold on her husband and smiled into his stormy eyes. “Seven hours from now, I’ll be seeing you in recovery. Two weeks from now, I’ll start planning the wedding of the century. And four to six months from now, we’ll start working on our new family. Hold onto that while I’m away from you, okay?”
“I will.” There was quiet desperation in the way he pressed her hand to his mouth. “Promise me all of that is going to happen, Dallas. Promise.”
“I promise,” she whispered, while another tear fell.
Epilogue
Six months later
“No one gets married in February.” Celia fussed with the red ringlets flowing from the loose knot at the crown of Dallas’s head. She stuck one more pin in while her nine-month baby bump hit Dallas’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you guys wait until spring, when we’d have a bumper crop of wildflowers to work with?”
“Killian and I have waited long enough, Cel.” With a patient sigh, Dallas tried to move out of Celia’s way while still remaining in the chair in front of the vanity. “First and foremost, I had to recover enough to get this whole shindig pulled together, and that took forever.”
“I’m just saying you could have waited a few more weeks, when all the bluebonnets are out and the wedding photos would totally slay. Pin.”
Dallas held up a bunch of bobby pins, the five-carat diamond engagement ring shimmering under the lights. One of her first memories after surgery was of Killian slipping that ring and her wedding band onto her finger, before bending over to kiss her brow. The rings were everything, of course, but when he’d whispered that he loved her and was proud of her for being so brave, that had made her world perfect.
“Cel, you and Ry got married in March. We didn’t want to have dueling anniversary parties at some point in the future.”
“Your real anniversary is in August.”
“That didn’t feel like a real wedding, though.” Lilah, looking gorgeous in a gold toned maxi dress and hair upswept similar to Dallas’s, carried a circlet of white roses with gold accents over to where Dallas sat. “It felt more like a funeral with both Des and Dallas going under the knife. I don’t blame you for wanting a second bite at the apple, hon,” she added, watching Celia work her magic as she placed the circlet around the bun. “If I were in your shoes, I’d want to replace that stressful memory with the joy of a traditional ceremony, too.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get all that,” Celia muttered, while Dallas was again assaulted by the other woman’s swollen belly. “But February? I have a birthday in February, so I know for a fact that it’s the ass-end of winter.”
“We wanted to have this ceremony before you had your baby.” Chuckl
ing, Dallas handed more pins to Celia to secure the rose circlet to her head. “Not to mention calving season’s just starting to rear its ugly head. The only other option we had was to wait until summer, and Killian wasn’t having any of that. He’d promised me a Brody-sized wedding just as soon as I was well enough to plan it, so that’s what we’ve got. Once that man gets an idea into his head, there’s no arguing with him.”
“Ry’s that way, too,” Celia said, sliding the last pin into place. “Who am I kidding? They’re all that way, every last one of them. I just hope my little one here inherits my easy-going personality and laidback attitude.”
Lilah burst out laughing even as she smoothed a hand over her much smaller baby bump. She wasn’t due until July, and with her willowy frame her pregnancy was still barely noticeable. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the same woman who locked her husband out of the house in a fit of pique last summer?”
“He took my car from me when he found out I was pregnant,” Celia seethed. “He’s the one who drives it like a demon, not me. Now I’m stuck in a nearly silent hybrid minivan practicing how to install car seats, while he roars around town in my muscle car. That man should consider himself lucky I let him back in the damn house.”
“Sounds totally easy-going and laidback to me,” Lilah drawled while Dallas chuckled and pushed out of the vanity chair. Her form-fitting dress, a white spaghetti-strap maxi sheath, had a long-sleeved shell made out of a sheer gold material that shimmered in the church’s soft lights. Up until recently, she’d avoided any clothing that was too tight, as the chevron-shaped surgical scar on her torso had been swollen, raised and visible beneath any taut material. But the puckered edges of the scar and the swelling had faded over the past few weeks, and the scar itself didn’t appear as angry red as it had since the surgery.
Slowly but surely, she was healing.
Killian had been a dream throughout the entire process, and she couldn’t have wished for a more attentive partner during her recovery. The soreness had been more than she’d anticipated; in the beginning, coughing and sneezing had been her personal definition of hell. He’d hardly left her side during the first two weeks, mainly to make sure she followed doctor’s orders and didn’t lift anything heavier than a teaspoon. After that, and reassured she wasn’t about to die, he’d nevertheless made sure she was never alone if he was going to be away for more than a few hours.
