by Lisa Kleypas
Hardy nodded and strode from the waiting area.
“He really shouldn’t be doing that,” the nurse fretted. “I’d better go follow him. If y’all want to take a peek at the baby, she’s in the special care nursery.”
I headed to the nursery with Joe, Ella, and Jack, while Gage and Liberty stayed in the waiting room to talk to the doctor.
“Poor Hardy,” Ella murmured as we walked along the hallway. “He’s been worried sick.”
“My sympathy’s with Haven,” Joe said. “I don’t know the details of what she’s been through, and I don’t want to. But I do know she’s gone through one hell of a battle.”
We entered the special care nursery, where the newborn had been placed in an incubator. She had been hooked up to an oxygen tube and monitoring leads, and her midsection was wrapped in a glowing blue pad.
“What is that?” I asked in a hushed voice.
“A biliblanket,” Ella replied. “Mia had one after she was born. It’s phototherapy for jaundice.”
The baby blinked and appeared to drift to sleep, her rosebud mouth opening and closing. Her head was covered with fine dark hair. “Hard to tell what she looks like,” Jack commented.
“She’ll be beautiful,” Ella said. “How could she not be, with Haven and Hardy as parents?”
“Hardy’s not what I’d call pretty,” Jack said.
“If you did,” Joe remarked, “he’d kick your ass.”
Jack grinned and asked Ella, “Did Haven tell you what the baby’s name was?”
“Not yet.”
We returned to the waiting room, where Gage and Liberty had just finished talking with the doctor. “They’re cautiously optimistic,” Gage reported. “It’s going to take three or four days before the HELLP issues are resolved. They’ve already given her a blood transfusion, and they’ll probably do another to help with the platelet count. They’re also going to put her on corticosteroid therapy and monitor her closely.” He shook his head, looking troubled. “They’re keeping her on the magnesium drip to ward off seizures. Apparently it’s a son of a bitch.”
Liberty rubbed her face and sighed. “Why don’t they have a bar in a hospital? It’s usually the place you most need a drink.”
Gage wrapped his arms around his wife and snuggled her against his chest. “You need to go home and check on the kids. What if Jack and Ella drop you off while I stay here a little while longer? I’m going to stick around and talk to Hardy.”
“That sounds good,” Liberty said against his shoulder.
“You need me for anything?” Joe asked.
Gage shook his head and smiled. “I think we’re fine here. You and Avery go on and get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
Eighteen
I
woke up in the morning with the groggy awareness that I was not alone. Climbing through the blurred layers of consciousness, I recalled the events of the previous night… coming home from the hospital with Joe… inviting him upstairs to sleep with me. We had both been exhausted, sore from hours spent on uncomfortable waiting room furniture, emotionally drained. I had changed into a nightgown and climbed into bed with Joe. The feeling of being held against his big, warm body had been delicious, and in matter of seconds I had passed out.
Joe was behind me, one arm tucked beneath my head, his legs drawn up under mine. I lay quietly and listened to the even cadence of his breathing. Wondering if he was awake, I let my toes delicately investigate the contours of his foot. Slowly his mouth came to my neck, finding a place so sensitive that I felt a shot of delight down to my stomach.
“There’s a man in my bed,” I remarked, groping back with my hand, feeling a hairy muscular thigh¸ the lean smoothness of a masculine hip. My wrist was gently captured, my hand guided downward until my fingers encountered hard, distended flesh and silky male skin. I took a quick breath, my eyes widening. “Joe… it’s too early.”
His hand traveled to my breast, caressing the shape through the thin knit fabric of my nightgown, softly pinching the nipple, enticing sensation from the stiffening points.
I tried again, sounding ambivalent even to my own ears. “I’m not a fan of morning sex.”
But he continued to kiss my neck and pulled the hem of my nightgown up past my knees.
I let out a giggle of nerves and dismay, crawling toward the other side of the bed.
Joe pounced, pushing me back down. He covered me, thighs clamping on my hips, deliberately letting me feel some of his weight, his body charged with lust. The moment was playful, but there was intent in the way he handled me, an assertiveness that stole my breath away.
“At least let me take a shower first,” I said plaintively.
“I want you like this.”
I began to wriggle. “Later. Please.”
Lowering his head, Joe murmured, “You’re not in charge. I am.”
I went still. For some reason, hearing those soft words while he was pinning me down like that sent a deep, deranged thrill through me. His voice curled hotly in my ear. “You belong to me, and I’m going to have you. Here and now.”
I couldn’t seem to get enough air. I had never been so intensely aroused.
His position altered, his hand sliding beneath the nightgown and between my thighs, searching intimately. I quivered as he massaged into the wetness, two fingers entering in a gentle glide. My hips began to rock back in a tight, unthinking rhythm, and he matched it exactly, pressing deep into the pulse, building sensation until I began to clench at each impetus.
Turning me to my back, he knelt between my thighs and propped them up so my knees were bent. He kissed my ankle, my calf, working his way upward. I bit my lips and writhed as the kisses crept closer to the juncture of my thigh and groin. “Don’t —” I began to protest, right before I felt a hot glassy stroke across my twitching flesh. I couldn’t escape the firm wet tug of his mouth. I began to sob, my defenses breaking down beneath the weight of pleasure.
He was unrelenting, concentrating on the shivery-hot place with his tongue, the caresses acquiring a rhythm that guided every impulse and sensation and heartbeat into a single focused current. My legs spread out and I was making sounds like I’d been hurt as the blinding release began. Too much to bear, too intense, my body seized with violent quivers.
Joe spent long minutes drawing out the afterglow even after I quieted, his mouth caressing me with diabolical gentleness. Eventually his head lifted and he kissed my stomach. I was so decimated that I barely registered when he rolled away for a moment and reached for something on the nightstand. He levered himself fully over my body, nudging my legs apart, and I reached up for him with weak arms. Entering me in a demanding drive, he pulled back just enough to thrust again, the deliberate measure of each lunge forcing me deliciously open, my hips lifted with each stroke.
Sometimes the rhythm was teasing and slow, sometimes fast and deep. He paid attention to every response, no matter how subtle, learning what excited me, what gave me pleasure. Joe was making love to me as no one ever had, and although the experience was unfamiliar, I could recognize it for what it was. Devastated, I closed my eyes as he ground into me with a steady circling. Whimpers broke from my throat. There was no holding anything back, no modesty, no control. More racking spasms, my pleasure feeding his. Joe growled in his chest and throat and began to shudder in my arms. I held him, kissing the side of his neck, loving the weight of him on me.
Eventually he turned and pulled me halfway over him, and we lay entangled for a long time afterward. I was in a stupor, random thoughts hovering just out of reach. The smells of sweat and sex mingled in an erotic fragrance, infusing every breath. Beneath my head, Joe’s chest lifted and fell in a relaxed pattern. One of his hands wandered over me, stroking gently.
I kissed his shoulder. “I going to take a shower now,” I said, my voice husky. “Don’t try and stop me.”
He smiled and turned to his side, watching me leave the bed.
I went into the bathroom on unstead
y legs and started the shower. My throat was tight with the effort to hold back tears. It was difficult to feel so defenseless… unguarded… and yet at the same time, there was an unspeakable relief in it.
Before the water had heated sufficiently for me to step in, Joe entered the room. His acute gaze caught every nuance of my expression before I could manage to hide it. Reaching a hand into the shower spray, he tested the temperature. He went with me into the glass-fronted stall. Blindly I turned my face into the water.
Joe slicked his hands with soap and began to wash me, his touch tender rather than sexual. I leaned against him passively, making no protest even when his soapy fingers slid between my legs and parted the soft folds for the rinse of hot water. He turned me so the spray was at my back, and I was pressed all along the wet, muscled surface of his front.
“Too soon?” I heard him ask.
I shook my head, arms locked around his waist. “No… But it was different from the first time.”
“I told you it would be.”
“Yes, but I… I’m not sure why.”
He murmured close to my ear, “Because it means something now.”
I could respond only with a shaken nod.
After a quick breakfast of coffee and toast, Joe had to leave. He would rush home to change his clothes before meeting with one of the directors of the Travis charitable giving foundation, to discuss the latest initiatives the family had agreed to focus on. “After everything that happened last night,” Joe said, “I may be the only Travis who shows up.” He stole a quick kiss. “Dinner tonight?” Another kiss before I could answer. “At seven?” One more kiss. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I stood there with an idiotic grin on my face as he left.
A little while later, while I was drinking a second cup of coffee, Sofia came downstairs in a pink robe and matching bunny slippers. “Is Joe still here?” she asked in a whisper.
“No, he’s gone.”
“How was last night?”
I smiled wryly. “Eventful. We spent most of it in a waiting room at Garner Hospital.” As we sat next to each other at the counter, I told Sofia all about Haven’s pregnancy complications, and the baby’s birth, and how the Travises had interacted.
“It was sort of eye-opening,” I said. “I’ve seen families celebrating together, and families on the verge of brawling over incredibly stupid stuff. But I’ve never actually seen a family, up close, in a situation like that. The way they supported each other…” I paused, finding it difficult to put into words. “Well, it surprised me that Gage, who’s had problems with Hardy in the past, would be the one to sit with him and comfort him, and Hardy let him, and it was because of the family bond, this… this weird connection that’s so important to all of them.”
“It’s not weird,” Sofia said. “That’s what a family is.”
“Yes, I know what a family is, but I’ve never seen what a family does. Not like that.” I paused, frowning. “I’ve never been part of an extended family. I’m not sure I’d like it. They all seem to know each other so well. Too well. There wouldn’t be enough privacy for me.”
“There are obligations when you’re part of a family,” Sofia conceded. “And problems. But taking care of each other… the feeling of belonging somewhere… that part is wonderful.”
“Do you miss not being close to your relatives?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” Sofia admitted. “But when you’re not accepted for who you are, it’s not really a family.” She shrugged and took a swallow of coffee. “Tell me the rest,” she prompted. “When Joe brought you back.”
A light blush covered my face. “He spent the night, obviously.”
“And?”
“I’m not giving you details,” I protested, and Sofia laughed gleefully as my color deepened.
“I can tell it was good just by looking at your face,” she said.
I tried to divert her. “Let’s figure out our plans for the day. Later this afternoon we need to review what’s been done on the Warner wedding so far, and send a report to Ryan. I think he’ll be fine with most of it, but I want to make sure —” I broke off as the doorbell rang. “That must be a delivery. Unless you’re expecting someone?”
“No.” Sofia went to the front entrance and peeked through one of the narrow side windows. She whirled around and plastered her back to the door like a knife thrower’s assistant during warm-up practice. “It’s Steven,” she said, her eyes wide. “Why is he here?”
“I have no idea. Let’s ask him.”
She didn’t move. “What do you think he wants?”
“He works here,” I reminded her patiently. “Let him in.”
My sister nodded tensely. She turned to unlock the door, then opened it with unnecessary force. “What do you want?” she asked without preamble.
Steven was dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt. His expression was difficult to interpret as he looked down at her. “I left my phone case here yesterday,” he said warily. “I came by to pick it up.”
“Hi, Steven,” I said. “Your phone case is on the coffee table.”
“Thanks.” He walked inside with an air of extreme caution, as if he suspected the studio had been booby-trapped.
Coco ascended the steps to the sofa and watched Steven retrieve his phone case. He paused to pet her tiny head and scratch the back of her neck. As soon as he stopped, Coco pawed at his hand and shoved her head beneath his palm, demanding that he continue.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Fine,” Steven replied.
“Would you like some coffee?”
It appeared to be a question with no easy answer. “I’m… not sure.”
“Okay.”
As Steven continued to pet Coco, he stole a glance at Sofia. “You’re wearing bunny slippers,” he said, as if it confirmed a suspicion he’d had for some time.
“And?” Sofia asked darkly, expecting a sarcastic comment.
“I like them.”
Sofia gave him a confused glance.
They were both so focused on each other that neither of them noticed my discreet exit from the kitchen.
“I’m going to the farmer’s market,” Steven said. “There should be some good peaches. Would you like to come along?”
Sofia replied in a slightly higher-pitched voice than usual. “Okay, why not?”
“Good.”
“I just have to change out of my pajamas into some regular clothes and…” Sofia paused. “Pajamas,” she repeated. “That’s how to say it. Right?”
Unable to resist, I stopped to glance at them from my vantage on the stairs. I had an unobstructed view of Steven’s face. He was smiling down at Sofia, his eyes glowing. “The way you pronounce it,” he said, “it always sounds like pa-yamas.” He hesitated and lifted his hand to caress her cheek gently.
“Pajamas,” Sofia repeated, sounding exactly like before.
Seeming to lose all restraint, Steven pulled her into his arms and murmured something low.
A long silence. A little sobbing breath. “So have I,” I heard Sofia say.
He kissed her, and Sofia molded herself against him, her hands climbing into his hair. The two of them seemed overwhelmed with mutual tenderness, clumsy with it as they kissed each other’s cheeks, chins, mouths.
Not long ago, I thought as I hurried up the stairs, the sight of Steven and Sofia passionately embracing would have been unthinkable.
Everything was changing so fast. The long, steady road I had plotted out for Sofia and me was turning out to have so many unexpected twists and detours that I found myself wondering if we were going to end up in entirely different places from those we’d originally planned.
I received frequent updates on Haven’s condition from Ella and Liberty and, of course, Joe. Although Haven’s health was improving rapidly, she wouldn’t be well enough to receive visitors outside of immediate family until she was back home. Her daughter, named Rosalie, was thriving and gaining weight and was
frequently brought to Haven for what was called “kangaroo time,” resting on her chest for skin-to-skin contact.
As I scrolled through photos that Joe had taken and loaded onto his tablet, I paused at a striking image of Hardy cradling Rosalie tenderly in his big hands, his smiling face lowered so that one of her miniature palms rested on his nose.
“Her eyes look blue,” I said, zooming in on the picture.
“When Hardy’s mom visited yesterday, she said his eyes were exactly that color when he was born.”
“When will Haven and Rosalie be able to leave the hospital?”
