by Kim Bailey
“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, hands perched on her luscious hips. “We’ve tried that already. Besides, I’m not going to have any energy left by the time we’re done here.”
Abbi wheels her way over to us, carefully stopping her board before she gets too close.
“Is the baby ready to come yet?” she asks innocently.
“Doesn’t seem like it, sweetie,” Zadie answers.
“Darn,” Abbi says. “Too bad you’re not allowed to skateboard. I bet that would make it happen.”
Zadie laughs. “You might be right—it would probably scare her out.”
Her.
Every time I hear it, I can’t help but imagine a cherub faced, brown-eyed beauty—a miniature Zadie. A little girl to give all my devoted attention. A miracle I’m already in love with.
“All right, I’m going to go walk more laps,” Zadie sighs. “Keep up the good work, Abbi, before long you’re going to be better than Caleb.”
She waddles back toward Chante and Melanie, her large rounded belly leading the way. She’s more than a week overdue and, as uncomfortable as she is, she’s managing like a champ. My girl’s still as brave as she is beautiful.
“Do you think she’s right?” Abbi asks. “Do you think I can be good at this?”
“I don’t know, this is only your first time. It’s going to take an awful lot of practice. Do you think you’re up for that?”
“Yes, as long as you’re my teacher, I know I can,” she answers boldly.
“Well then, there’s your answer.” I smile down at her. “Now, get back to it.”
She’s still too skinny and her hair is still growing back, thin and patchy. She’s not allowed to do much more than stand on the skateboard. But when she strapped on her helmet and knee pads she got this look of excited anticipation. And every time her feet hit the deck, she exudes nothing but pure joy.
It may be that Abbi loves skateboarding. Or, it may simply be that she’s ecstatic to be alive—to have the opportunity to do something new. To do anything at all.
Regardless of the reason, seeing her joyful expression is all the motivation I need. Abbi’s just one of four kids I’ve agreed to mentor. Skateboarding may be the up-front focus but the goal is to help them heal. It’s a way for me to give them something they can call their own—something that has nothing to do with cancer.
Unexpectedly, it’s given a lot to me as well. I look forward to my time with them. I’m dedicated to helping them. I’m passionate about making a difference in their lives. I feel like it’s one more step toward solidifying my future.
The other step—the one that’s bright and clear—is burning a hole in my pocket. I’ve been holding onto the simple three-stone engagement ring for months now. Every day, I fight the urge to drop to my knee and beg Zadie to just marry me already. Every moment of waiting feels like wasted time, but I’m determined to do it right. So, I’m being patient and taking it slow and steady. Because she’s worth it.
I watch Zadie as she walks her laps, trying to induce labor naturally before her doctor insists on doing it for her. I’m still awed by her steadfast determination.
“Caleb!” Abbi calls. “Can I try a trick or something? Moving in a straight line is too easy.”
“You think you’re a pro already?” I laugh.
“No.”
“You’re not ready for tricks yet.” Her face falls in disappointment. “But how about you help me with one of mine, instead?”
“Really?” she asks, jumping with excitement.
“Sure. You go sit over there. Don’t move a muscle.” She nods her head as she goes to sit where I’ve instructed. “We’ll give your mom and my girls a show, ok?”
“Yes!”
“You can’t move!” I warn. “Or the trick won’t work.”
There’s no trick, really. I hit the ramps a couple of times but otherwise I simply grind my board in circles around her. She’s delighted. I can tell from the smile, frozen on her face. But she’s good at listening to instructions and doesn’t move an inch.
I fly up and over the ramp again. I relish the easy feel of losing gravity for a moment before landing solidly back on the ground. When I fly back toward Abbi, I realize she’s not where I left her. She’s up, moving toward me with a look of fearful wonder on her face.
I veer off to the side, easily avoiding her. “What the heck, Abbi!” I exclaim, bringing myself to a stop beside her. “You weren’t supposed to move, remember?”
“But... but...” Her eyes are huge. “Zadie.”
Turning around, I search the area I last saw her. She’s still there, her arm draped over Chante’s shoulder, and her hand clutched to her belly. Melanie stands on her other side, rubbing her back and shoulders.
“Zadie!” I yell, anxiety coursing through me.
“Her water broke,” Chante yells back.
“Is the baby coming now?” Abbi asks.
“I guess so,” I smile down at her.
“You’re going to be a dad!” she squeals. “I can’t wait to meet your baby!”
“Me neither,” I say, grabbing her hand and running toward the waiting women.
“Cal!” Zadie calls, reaching her hand out to me.
“I’m here,” I tell her, squeezing her fingers tight. “I’m right here.”
“Oh God,” she groans as a contraction hits her. “An hour ago, I was begging for her to come, now I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” Chante scoffs.
“I know you can,” I reassure. “And I’m right here for you. You’re not doing this on your own. You’ve got me and I’ve got you.”
“Thank you, Cal.” Her brow crinkles, adorably. “You’ve always believed in me. You’ve always believed in us.”
Tears spring to my eyes, a single drop clinging to my lashes.
Zadie shifts out of Chante’s hold, allowing me to enfold her in my arms. “I believe in us too,” she says, kissing my chin.
“Okay,” Chante says. “Enough standing around. You need to get to the hospital. It’s time to meet your daughter. Both of you.”
“Yes, Doc,” Zadie laughs. “Let’s go.”
Always beautiful and brave. And mine.
Happily, ever after.
***
Chantal
THE PRECIOUS BABY GIRL sleeps soundly in her father’s arms. Her real father’s arms. The father, who’s genetics didn’t make her, but whose heart will help shape her. He’s fully vested. He always was, even before he knew she existed.
I knew he would be.
Caleb is awe-inspiring. He’s not the reason I pursued my medical career, but he’s my continued inspiration to never give it up. I will never give it up.
“What are you going to name her?” I whisper.
“Not sure yet.” He yawns as the toll of the day finally catches up with him.
“Let me take her,” I suggest. “You should get some sleep.”
Without argument, he hands me his brand-new, no-name baby daughter. Then he curls up in the bed beside his peacefully sleeping, soon-to-be wife.
He made quite the spectacle, asking Zadie to marry him only minutes after the baby was placed in her arms. Prince fucking Charming had every nurse in the place swooning.
“Come on sweet, darling girl,” I coo. “Let’s go see some people.”
Walking slowly to the visitor’s area I cherish the perfect feel of having a baby in my arms—so innocent and new.
For Zadie and Caleb, this little girl will be their one and only. She’ll be their single chance to bring life into this world. Their one shot to create a family.
Lucky bastards.
“Who’ve you got there?” Dylan hums when I sit beside him.
“She’s nameless.”
“She’s pretty.” He runs a finger over her tiny little hand. “So small.”
“She’s perfect,” I confirm.
“Guess she didn’t get many of her
sperm donor’s genes then, eh? Probably a good thing.”
“Where is he?”
“Don’t know. I’ve called him a few times now. But you know how he likes to ignore me.”
“Do you think maybe I should try?”
“Enchanté, he knew this day was coming. If he was interested in being here, he would be.”
Fucking Sean. Always messing things up. Messing everything up.
“I hope Zadie’s not disappointed by him again.”
“I think she’s well past counting on him. You’re the only one who still has expectations for him. Maybe it’s time you let go of him too.”
If only it were that easy.
“Maybe.” I sigh, kissing the top of the baby’s head. She smells so sweet. “Did you get a hold of my Aunt?”
“Yeah. Sylvie’s going to go nuts over this baby.”
“Wait until she sees the rock on Zadie’s finger—she’s really going to go crazy then.”
“Yes, she is,” He agrees, stroking my hand. He lingers over the spot where my wedding band should sit. My empty ring finger. “That’s going to be a fun wedding.”
“Most definitely.”
“You gonna wear that blue dress again? I’d like to see you dance in it, and then rip it off you after.”
“Maybe.” I recline into him, smiling as I think about the last time he saw me in the blue dress. My mind is still basking in midnight skies and holding hands, when Sean comes stumbling into the room.
He’s wild and untamed looking, as always. For a moment, with the way he’s floundering, I’m worried he’s drunk. Quickly, I realize it’s not alcohol fueling him—it’s nervous apprehension.
“Is that...?” He stares in wonder at the tiny bundle in my arms.
“Yes,” I confirm. “This is your daughter.”
He sinks his big, familiar body into the chair on the other side of me. He’s barely acknowledged me or Dylan, he’s too enchanted by his girl. So, I turn and slip her into his waiting arms.
Sean is not what he shows the world. Zadie never knew the real man, hiding beneath obnoxious wit and wickedly provocative words. How could she? He’d already lost himself when they met.
But I know him. I know all of him—all too well.
Watching him now, as he holds the blessing he helped create, I see another marvel. Sean, a man once broken, is made whole.
This baby—one petite, angelic little girl—has fulfilled an enormous order. She’s already healed the people who will love her. She’s brought light and love into their lives.
Dylan wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I still love you,” he murmurs in my ear, handing the last piece of my shattered heart back to me.
Zadie wanders into the room with a tired but deliriously happy Caleb, trailing behind her. Smiling and holding hands, they look down at their sleeping child.
“What’s her name?” Sean asks.
“Her name,” Zadie whispers. “Is Hope.”
Slowly, I start stitching my heart back together.
With hope.
What’s Next...
The Here & Now series concludes with Broken Kisses. This is Chantal and Dylan’s story and it’s coming in 2018.
You can read the start of their story in Illicit Kisses (Here & Now #1.5).
Read on for an excerpt.
***
Dylan
IN MY LIFE, THERE have only ever been three things that I ever really wanted: a professional hockey career, my parents to stay together, and Jamie Hartley to be mine. Since professional sports were only ever a pipe dream for a guy with no talent, and my parents divorced when I was ten, the only dream I had left was Jamie. I used to have her. Then, somehow, I lost her, and I’ve been trying to prove myself to her, to win her back, ever since.
The problem is, she’s been so focused on raising our child, she’s blind to all the things I’ve done to make myself worthy of a second chance. She didn’t see me busting my ass at school to better myself while I held down two crappy serving jobs. She didn’t know about all the hours I volunteered in my community. She was clueless when I joined the police force. Hell, she didn’t even recognize when, each month, the child support check I sent was bigger than the last.
Did I visit all the time? No. But she’d hidden herself away from me then kept me at arm’s length when I did eventually find her. She rejected me in every way. Except physically. Physically, we’d been as fiery together as always. Right up until Eric came along.
I’d done my damnedest to turn myself into a provider, a respectable guy who she’d let into her life, into our son’s life, and got shit to show for it—other than accusations and heartache.
My heart sure is aching now.
She’s getting married.
My foot hits the tile of the front hall, the door and my escape only steps away.
But my footsteps falter. I can’t leave. Leaving solidifies my status in the loser category. I can’t control what’s happening right now, but I can control the way people see me react. If I leave before the cake is served, before saying goodbye to Hunter, the idea that I’m a bad father will get even more credit. There’s enough fodder in that camp already. I don’t need to add to it myself.
Turning briskly to my left, I head into the bathroom instead.
A moment to collect myself, that’s what I need.
But I don’t even get the door completely latched before there’s a soft tapping on it. “Dylan?” a woman coos from the other side. It’s a sickly-sweet kind of voice generally reserved for babies and pets. Nauseating.
I’m not up for company. I need a minute to get my shit together. Is it really that much to ask? Except I can’t ignore her. She won’t stop the goddamn tapping.
Opening the door again, I face off against Eric’s sister, Celeste.
“Are you all right?” she urges.
What’s with this chick? From the first day I met her, she’s acted all sorts of strange around me. She looks at me like a lost puppy in search of an owner, but with absolutely everyone else, she’s a tornado.
“I’d be better if I could take a piss.” I try for brash. Maybe a bit of rudeness will turn her off.
“Oh, I thought you might be upset. I saw your reaction to the news. It must be difficult for you.”
“Why are you here, Celeste?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why would you follow me? Why do you care what I’m feeling? And why the hell can’t I just have a minute alone to use the can?”
“Well... I just... I thought I could help make you feel better.” Her innocently seductive look is out of place. It’s also out of line.
I don’t know what her angle is, but I don’t like it. This isn’t my kind of game at all. Not only is she making it way too easy, but she’s married. I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but I don’t do married.
Although doing his sister would be an awesome way to get back at Eric.
“How exactly did you plan to make me feel better?”
A smile spreads across her face, feeding my annoyance. She must have missed it in my tone.
“Whatever you’d like.”
“What I’d like is for you to turn around and go back to the party. Maybe offer your services to your husband—John, isn’t it? He seems like a nice guy. Had a chat with him earlier. Wouldn’t want to have a chat with him after this, though. That might be awkward. For you.”
The smile is long gone, and a look of fear mixes with her standard scowl.
“Can I take a leak now?” I bark.
With a huff, she turns and stomps away, her hair flinging out behind her like a final fuck you.
Muffled laughter, followed by a snort of delight, echoes from the opposite direction. Peeking around the doorway, I see a tall, slender brunette, both hands covering her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she says, dropping her hands to reveal her gorgeous smile. “That was kind of embarrassing, wasn’t it?” Her French accent is light and sex
y, making her sound as sophisticated as she looks.
Who is this woman? How could I miss a face and a body like that?
“Embarrassing for who?” I ask.
“Well, obviously not you. You handled her like a pro. Kudos for not being a sleazebag.”
“Who says I’m not a sleazebag?”
“Oh, trust me, sweetheart. I’ve met plenty of them in my life. None would have turned down what she was offering.”
“That so? Maybe I was just waiting for a better offer to come along.”
“Ah, so, you’re a sleazebag with standards?” She laughs again, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Who are you?”
“You first. You’re the one slinking around corners playing spy. Who are you?”
“Well, you caught me, so I must be a shit spy. I’m the cousin. Chante.”
“Chante. Like enchanté?” I focus on her gorgeous name instead of her unfortunate relation.
“No, darling, nothing delightful or enchanting about me. Just Chante, or Chantal.”
“I thought enchanté meant pleased to meet you.”
“It could, but are you really all that pleased to meet me?”
“You have absolutely no idea how very pleased I am, Chantal. And you’re wrong about not being enchanting... I forgot what we were talking about. I got distracted by images of your sexy lips saying my name.”
“I’d have to know your name first, now, wouldn’t I?” she toys.
“I’m Dylan.”
“Dylan?” The way she says it is nothing like I’d imagined. Her sexy swagger drops, replaced with a straightened spine and a look of such discomfort you’d think she’d stepped in shit. “You’re Dylan?”
“So, you’ve heard of me.”
“Fuck d’ostie,” she swears in a sexy, French-English mix.
“Is that good or bad?”
“Well, I was warned to stay away from you... so probably not good.”
“What? You were warned? By who?”
“Eric told me you’re a player.”
“Did he now? ’Cause he’s the authority on that topic, right?”
There was a reason I was escaping, and this is a vivid reminder of why. I can’t handle these people’s perceptions and expectations of me. I barely know most of them, yet they’ve helped to give me a complex bigger than my ego. That’s saying a lot considering how big my ego can be at times.
