by Liz Meldon
And he’d never had a happier day.
“We…” He looked down at Skye, knowing she was the one who ought to share the news. Grinning, he stretched an arm out on the couch behind her, careful not to knock Oz off, and nodded. “Go on. You tell him.”
It was then that he realized Skye wasn’t the only one shaking. He flexed his hand in and out of a fist, noting the way it trembled.
“Cole, we…” She opened and closed her mouth, looking from Finn to the laptop, then up to the TV screen. “Cole, I’m pregnant!”
Cole blinked back at them, dumbstruck. “W-what?”
“Yeah, Finn panic-bought thirty thousand pregnancy tests when I realized I was having morning sickness,” she said, finally showing the ziplock bag she’d kept all the positive test strips in. She held it up, beaming. Skye had never looked more beautiful—sweats, raggedy bun, faded makeup and all. “We just got the blood test results from the doctor… Pregnant. He estimates about five or six weeks…”
Finn let her take the lead in telling the story. She had earned that right after all she’d gone through recently. Days of nausea—it must have been a nightmare. When she had finally gotten physically sick, he’d been at his breaking point, wracked with worry despite her assurances that all was fine.
And now, he had a lot of feelings about the whole thing. Excitement. Nervousness. Hope. Mostly, Finn was just thrilled that their little trio was going to expand by one in the next nine months. He loved Skye to the moon and back, and this was just the next step in the relationship. Was it planned? No. Did that make it any less exciting? Absolutely not. Finn loved kids. He’d always wanted them, even during his wild-child partying days. The thought of Skye having one, whether it was his or Cole’s, had made him moonwalk around his bedroom on the first day after she took all the at-home tests. He’d wanted to get his elation out privately at first, because what had really mattered then was how Skye felt. Over the last week, she’d fluctuated between panicked and excited, before finally bursting out in happy tears when the doctor had called today with the news.
So, whether she continued to go through the emotional roller-coaster or not, Finn just wanted to be supportive. He already had ideas about how to turn one of the bedrooms into a playroom, then another into a nursery. They’d have to downsize and start sleeping together more, but that didn’t bother him one bit—all they needed was a bigger bed. Skye was notorious for starfishing, Cole was a blanket hog, and Finn usually woke up on the floor whenever they all shared a bed. Something would need to be done about that, because their child deserved his or her own room. And playroom. And so much more.
Skye regaled Cole with the events of the last week, from the initial discover to the tests to the doctor’s appointment, then finally the fateful call, her mouth moving a mile a minute, her excitement palpable. She was still shaking, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, gesticulating wildly with her hands as Finn tried to keep them both in the webcam’s view. However, when he looked to Cole, the man was white as a sheet. He’d also picked up a pen and had been clicking it for god knows how long.
Not good.
Skye was too wrapped up in the moment to see it now, but she would. Finn cleared his throat, shifting from giddy mode to comfort mode, sensing he needed to be on his toes. Should he subtly disconnect the line? Something felt off.
Fuck.
“I mean, I was really thrown at first,” Skye said, slightly breathless as she smoothed some coppery flyaways behind her ears. “Both of us were. But I think it’s going to be amazing.”
Finn tensed, steeling himself when she finally clued into the fact that Cole wasn’t reacting anywhere near how he suspected she wanted him to—how Finn thought he would.
“Cole,” Finn said firmly, staring straight into the webcam. “Put the pen down. It’s fine. We’re in this together, right? How are you—”
“Well, I’m all the way over here, aren’t I?” Cole said, his voice cracking. “So, are we really in this together?”
Finn frowned, a ripple of anger washing over him when he caught the way Skye’s face fell in the webcam image. “What do you mean? Of course we are.”
“Look, I…I need to run.” If he clicked that damn pen any faster, the thing would implode. “I’m sorry. I… Thank you for telling me. I just need to…I have some things to take care of before this morning’s meeting, and I should probably just… I’m sorry. I love you.”
And then the screen went black, the call disconnected. The little nugget of anger inside him exploded into a full-blown storm, but Finn swallowed it when Skye started to cry.
“He doesn’t seem very happy,” she wailed, hands pressed to her red cheeks as tears streamed down them. Mason whined and slunk off; he always thought he was in trouble whenever one of his humans was upset. Unfortunately, the dog hadn’t done anything.
Cole, on the other hand…
Finn took a deep breath and pulled Skye into his arms, quickly setting the laptop and the bag of pregnancy tests aside. He hushed her as she sobbed into his chest, her body shuddering more violently than before. As he’d learned over the last two years, sometimes she just needed to exhaust herself, get all that emotion out, and then she’d be ready to talk. So, he waited, biting his tongue, swallowing his frustration over what had just happened, and let her cry. Only when Skye started to settle down did he untangle himself from her. He then scooped a sleeping Oz up and set him on her lap, turned the TV on, and grabbed a glass of water, catching the kettle on the way so he could make them both some tea.
Back at her side, the TV on low, he watched her drink the entire glass, then took it back when she stared numbly ahead. Swollen, bloodshot eyes lifted to him when he wiped the last of the tears away, and Finn sighed, knowing she’d understand his emotional state with that sharp exhale—but also knowing he would need to actually say something too.
“I think he was just overwhelmed,” Finn told her softly, nodding when her eyebrows started to furrow. “You know what he’s like. Change is big. This is huge. We probably should have waited until he got home.” He paused, considering the idea for a moment. “Actually, we should have definitely waited until he got home.”
“Maybe,” she admitted in a very quiet, very un-Skye-like voice. “Or maybe…”
“Just watch The Devil’s Kitchen with Oz,” Finn urged, forcing the remote into her hand as one of their usual shows started up. “I’m going to call Cole and get this all sorted out. I’m sure it was just…a poor reaction. He loves you, Skye. Very much. I can guarantee he isn’t angry or, or, I don’t know, upset by any means at the news, all right?”
Skye nodded mutely, staring at the TV. She remained in a daze until Oz stood up on her lap, stretched a high-arched stretch, and rubbed his face along her chin. Only then did she smile weakly, and Finn left, knowing she was in very capable paws.
Clutching his phone so tight he worried he might break the damn thing, he was nearly at the front door when he heard a low whine from the top of the stairs. Mason stared down at him with those huge, sorrowful brown eyes—cowering.
“You’re fine,” Finn reassured the dog, but when Mason flopped down and whined again, he realized there were two beings who needed comforting. Rolling his eyes, he scaled the staircase taking it two steps at a time. As the TV volume increased from the living room, he charmed Mason back to his happy-go-lucky self, and soon enough the dog was bouncing down the stairs ahead of him, nails clacking on the tile, and making his way back to Skye. Finn watched him go, shaking his head when Skye let him cuddle on the couch, and then stalked out to the car park area, only remembering not to slam the door nanoseconds before he did it.
He tapped around his phone irritably, bringing up Cole’s profile and selecting the call button. Each ring only made his blood boil more than it already was, and when Cole answered on the sixth ring, the last before it went to voicemail, Finn held nothing back.
“What the fuck was that?” he demanded, forcing himself to march back and forth along the l
ength of the SUV parked in the darkness. Ahead, the highway was quiet aside from the odd car whizzing by.
“Finn—”
“No, no,” he said sharply. “You think before you answer me. She’s crying right now. Crying. D’you feel good about yourself?”
“Of course not,” Cole snapped back. “Do you think that was my goal?” He huffed into the phone. “You couldn’t have given me a fucking heads-up?”
“Skye wanted to surprise you. She thought you’d be excited.” Finn shook his head, glaring around the dark corners of the cark park—realizing it needed a bit of a cleaning soon. Sand. It got everywhere. When Cole said nothing, he exhaled, pushing out some of his anger with it. “Cole, we’ve talked about this, you and I. You said you couldn’t wait to have kids with Skye. You wanted one with us. Was that a load of shit?”
“No, no, no, I just…” Another shaky breath, followed by a gasp of an inhale. “I’m not there, Finn.”
“So what? You’ll be home soon,” Finn countered, already detecting the beginnings of a panic attack. Fuck. “Cole, sit down.”
“No—”
“Sit the fuck down. Don’t make me call Hunter.” Cole’s assistant had been known, at times, to be moderately helpful in calming Cole down. It was rare that Finn had to rely on him, but there wasn’t much he could do from an entirely different continent.
“I-I’m not there,” Cole said, his breath coming faster with each word. “That’s just it, right? Classic fucking Cole. Never there when it matters. Always working. Always—”
“That’s a lie and you know it. You’re here for pretty much everything these days.”
“But not the stuff that really matters.” Finn heard a tap running in the background, followed by muffled noises for a few moments as Cole splashed his face down. Part of the routine. When he got back on the line, however, he didn’t sound any calmer. “I should have been at the doctor’s appointment. I should have been there with you and her. How many other things am I going to miss out on? The delivery? Birthdays? Will you be the only dad at the wedding? I…”
He dragged in a raspy breath, and Finn crouched down with a sigh, the last of his anger, anger that he now realized was uncalled for, seeping out of him. “Cole. Sit down.”
“I am f-fucking sitting.”
Finn pressed a hand to his forehead. There was nothing to do now but wait. “Head between your knees. Come on. You’re all right. We’re all right.”
“It’s always w-work, and I—”
“Cole,” Finn said firmly. “You’re having a panic attack.”
“I’m n-not.” The hyperventilating was pretty hard to miss.
“You are. Take a breath. It seems worse than it is right now. Skye and I aren’t going anywhere. You’re going to be home with us soon. We’re going to do this together.” He waited for a moment, his voice softer when he spoke next. “I’m going to count. You ready?”
There was a brief pause, until: “Y-yes.”
Following the protocol they’d all agreed on should Cole ever have an attack, he instructed the man to take a nice, slow, deep breath. Hold it for four seconds. Slow release. Then again. Over and over, paired with reassurance, until Cole’s breathing leveled out. The incident lasted about ten minutes, and when it was over, Cole sounded like he’d just ran a marathon.
“I fucked up,” he croaked. “I… It all just hit so fast. I’m sorry. Please tell Skye I’m sorry.”
“No, Cole, I’m sorry. I should have realized… Look, I’ll sort it out,” Finn told him, rubbing a hand across his face. “She’ll understand. I think it’s better we all talk about it in person.”
“Agreed.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Cole muttered, though Finn knew he’d need at least an hour to decompress after the attack. “I feel like the biggest ass…”
“Well, sometimes you can be.” Finn chuckled as a weariness descended upon him. “I don’t think you were with this. Not intentionally, anyway.”
“I really am excited,” he said, sounding just as tired as Finn felt. “Really. I just…”
“I know.” Cole didn’t need to explain himself—not anymore, at least. Finn’s gut reaction to his earlier behavior hadn’t been far off; the man wasn’t upset or angry, just startled. The news was huge, and he wasn’t surprised it had triggered Cole’s anxiety. Unfortunately, seeing Skye cry had triggered Finn’s anger, his protectiveness. He should have realized… He shook his head, sighing. Doesn’t matter. It was over and done with now—and no one could change it. They all just needed to make it right going forward. “Listen, I should get back and make sure she’s okay. Mason and Oz are keeping her company.”
“Fuck, Finn…”
“Everything is going to be fine,” he assured him. “Go do what you need to, and please don’t let this pull you into a spiral. You don’t need to. We’ll sort it out.”
It took a little extra reassurance to get Cole to hang up, but when he did, Finn immediately rang up his assistant and ordered her to arrange the Rai family’s private jet to leave tomorrow morning for Hong Kong out of LAX. Even if Cole had agreed not to let this issue fester, Finn knew it would, and the sooner they were all face-to-face, celebrating this wonderful news as a family, the better.
When all that was said and done, he slipped his phone in his pocket and strolled to the end of their driveway. A warm night breeze billowed over him, and as he stood there, Finn closed his eyes and breathed it in. This would be made right. He’d see to that. But in the meantime…
Tears clung to his thick, dark lashes when he opened his eyes again, his surroundings blurred until he blinked the wetness away.
Skye was pregnant. The last week had been so hectic, and today had been such a whirlwind of emotion, that he hadn’t really taken a proper second to process it. Barring any complications, they were going to have a child. Hands planted on his hips, he looked up at a starry sky and laughed, letting the tears roll down his face unhindered.
Running a hand through his hair, he wiped his cheeks and nodded. They were going to have a baby. Someone was going to call Cole and Finn dad soon. Even with the mess that tonight had been, even if he felt drained—Finn had never been happier, or more excited, about anything in his life.
Cole had never been this exhausted in his life—and not just physically. Sure, he was absolutely wrecked after being on the go for almost three straight weeks in a row. Since he had gracefully bowed out of the bulk of his old responsibilities as CEO and started working from home to put more time and attention into his relationship, he’d gotten soft. The thought of doing code marathons with his programmers made him queasy, and he had fallen asleep in the car every night for the last week and a half while some of the others participating in the tech convention carried on partying into the night. He wasn’t sure where they got their energy from, but drugs came to mind, and it wouldn’t surprise him if many were high out of their minds by midnight most nights. There were more than a few bleary, red-eyed folks at the hotel breakfast bar each morning.
But Cole was exhausted in just about every way possible. He hadn’t slept a wink since his conversation with Finn and Skye about the baby. Just thinking back to it, how he’d handled it, threatened to bring on another panic attack. Wracked with anxiety, he had been on the steady and rapid decline for about a day and a half now. Standing in the gold-and-ivory-toned lobby, waiting for the private elevator that would take him up to his rented penthouse, he couldn’t even remember what had happened today. Guest speakers. Something about innovations. Internet…security? He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, his whole body on fire.
It had been on fire ever since he’d hung up with Finn. Hong Kong itself certainly didn’t help his state of mind. Fast-paced. Vibrant. Busy. Full. Nothing about it helped his racing thoughts, and he’d already put his assistant on call to remind him to take his medication. Normally it didn’t matter if he took it an hour or two late, just as long as he took it. Given how he was feeling now,
after what a colossal fuck-up he’d made, Cole knew himself well enough to know he’d spiral if he didn’t take those tiny white pills on the exact hour, every day.
The fact that he hadn’t heard from Skye since that phone call only made things worse. He’d heard from Finn, but it was all the usual stuff: everything’s fine, not to worry, we’ll see you soon. Nothing that would quiet the tornado hammering the inside of his skull.
Cole glanced at the screen above the elevator doors—nineteen floors to go before it reached the lobby. Scowling, he dug his phone out of his jacket pocket, tie hanging loosely around his neck, and checked for messages. There were many, of course, but none from the people who mattered.
What had he been thinking? Of course he wanted to start a family with Skye. In the moment, however, he’d panicked. He’d shoved his foot so deep in his mouth that there was no hope of recovering it. Worst of all, he had made her cry. The chances of Skye and Finn even being at home next week dwindled with each passing hour. After all, they didn’t need him. They loved each other. They could easily cut him and his insensitivities out of their life. And he’d deserve it, too.
Cole shook his head. The anxious voices hadn’t been kind to him over the last forty-eight hours, and the lack of sleep wasn’t helping. As the gold, reflective elevator doors peeled open and he stepped inside, Cole heard the rattle of the sleeping pills he’d picked up from the local pharmacy in his bag. If these couldn’t knock him out, he might just go insane.
Pressing the button for his floor, he leaned back against the wall and rubbed his face. There was too much to worry about. Too much with the convention, which, up until yesterday, had been going well. His company had made a few acquisitions, opened up additional trade in the Asian markets, and was currently in the works to partner up with Hong Kong’s leading security firm for a joint business venture. And all Cole could think about Skye. And what a major fucking idiot he’d been.
