by Shauna Allen
My name was a prayer on her lips when she began to convulse wildly around me, her legs clamping my head.
I pressed soft kisses all around until she calmed and her panting was gone. I crawled my way up her body like a panther until we were eye to eye. Her gaze was glazed and lusty and I wanted her so much I thought I’d burst.
She gave me one of her secret little smiles, then gripped my head and dragged me down for a kiss, sliding her tongue along mine, tasting herself. I groaned.
Her legs spread under me and she urged me on with a hand to my ass. Unable to deny either of us, I slid home, our heady moans filling the air around us.
She kept her hands on my waist, her gaze locked with mine as I began to move. Slowly, deliciously, at first, until my body took over my mind and I was pounding into her. She seemed to love it, her cries spurring me on, her legs wrapped around my thighs so I was as deep inside as I could be. And it was perfect. Like coming home.
When I felt her body tighten around me, her groaning pleas hot in my ear, I let it go. Pistoning in, out, in, out . . . fierce as an animal, I let my body take me over the edge with her.
I spooned Delilah as she slept curled up on her side, my hand cupping her belly. I could hardly believe my baby was growing inside of her. Again. What if she lost this one, too?
No.
I couldn’t think like that. She was doing what the doctor said, and she told me it was all good so far.
I tucked my head into her shoulder and inhaled. Love for this woman filled me. I could not live without her. I just couldn’t. I had to find a way to fight the darkness trying to pull us apart. There had to be a way.
As my thoughts pounded my brain, she rolled over to face me, her sleepy eyes pinning mine. “What are you thinking about so loud?”
I huffed out a laugh. She knew me so well. “Nothing.” I kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep, it’s late.”
“Blake. If we’re going to work through this, really work through it this time, you have to talk to me. What’s wrong?”
I grazed her hip with my fingertips. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking about how much I love you and how I wish I knew how to fix our shit. If I could magically wipe it all away, I would. It feels hopeless sometimes, then other times, like tonight, it feels perfect.”
Her hand ran down my neck, through my chest hair, to rest on my side. “Yeah. I know.”
“So, what do we do, Princess?”
She lifted her shoulder in a gentle shrug. “I have no idea. We can only take things one day at a time.”
Right. One day at a time. It’s just that it seemed impossible when all I could see were the thousand days behind us coloring our future.
I woke up Christmas Eve morning feeling the coolness of the bed where Delilah had slept wrapped around me like a pretzel all night. Guess she’d missed me too.
But where was she? She always slept later than me.
I rolled from bed and slid on some flannel pajama pants. Stretching, I scratched my chest and my eyes tracked to the dresser. Delilah’s wedding ring was lying next to a framed photo from our honeymoon. And I used that term loosely. We were too broke at eighteen to be able to afford much, so our honeymoon had consisted of a weekend in San Antonio with a trip to Sea World, lots of junk food, and tons of hotel sex. Pretty perfect in my book, but I know Dee has always dreamed of more.
Twirling my own ring on my finger, I picked up her golden band and padded to find her. She was tucked into the sofa with a blanket across her lap and the phone to her ear.
“Ah, Rachel,” she murmured, sympathy heavy in her eyes. “I’m so sorry . . .” She glanced up and saw me, a little secret smile briefly flitting across her lips. Her eyes stayed glued to mine as I approached, her attention split between me and whatever Rachel was saying.
I lifted her left hand from her lap and kissed her knuckles. Then I slid her wedding ring back on.
Delilah
I watched Blake turn and head to the kitchen, his back bare and incredibly strong as he moved. Once he was out of sight, I glanced down to my left hand and the ring he’d put back on me. Butterflies began to swarm my belly.
“Delilah?” Rachel’s sad voice cut into my thoughts, making me feel guilty.
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry the funeral was so rough, but at least you got to see Weston. How is your brother, anyway?”
“Torn up about Dad, but he’s fine.”
I had a vague recollection of Rachel’s older brother, his hair a deep, dark version of Rach’s red, tall, studious. I hated that they had to go through this.
“How are you?” she asked. “The baby? Blake?”
My gaze flitted to the kitchen where I could hear Blake puttering around and the hiss of the coffee pot. “We’re . . . good.”
“That didn’t sound enthusiastic.”
I lowered my voice. “We’re, uh, working things out. Or trying to. One day at a time, Rach, but for now, we’re doing okay.”
We went on to talk about the snowy Wyoming winter, the Porsche, and our holiday plans, including my cousin, Jewel, moving to town. Rachel listened like a good friend, but I could tell she was still reeling from her own grief.
Blake peeked around the corner, miming eating to let me know breakfast was ready.
“When will you be home?” I asked before we hung up.
“I’ve gotta get back to work next week. We can get together then. I’d love to see Jewel again, too.”
“It’s a date.”
We said our goodbyes and a melancholy part of me wondered what it would feel like when I lost my own father. We weren’t close, never had been, but I’d always yearned. Always wished for what Rachel had with her dad.
“You okay?” Blake asked after I hung up.
I glanced up from my lap, where I held the phone limply. “Yeah. I’m good. Just sad for Rach. I wish I could be there for her.” Why did Wyoming have to be so freakin’ far?
He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Me, too.” He indicated over his shoulder. “You ready to eat?”
I stood, shoving the blanket off my legs and leaving my phone on the coffee table. “Starving.”
He grinned his sexy, distinctly Blake smile, showcasing his dimples through the stubble. God, I loved that. As I passed, he pivoted and put a hand to the small of my back, leading me to the table. Red and green colored pancakes shaped like Christmas trees and candy canes laid on my plate next to a glass of orange juice and my prenatal vitamin.
I laughed. “Wow.”
He sat across from me at his own heaping plate. “It’s tradition.”
“Yes, it is.” My heart softened a bit that he’d made our traditional Christmas Eve breakfast that we’d had every year since we married. Tomorrow would be my turn and it would be omelets . . . his favorite. Stupid tears clogged my vision as I drowned in nostalgia. This was the life we’d created. This was the life I loved. The life I feared might be slipping through my fingers, no matter what we did.
“Hey.” He clasped my hand across the table. “What’s up?”
I shook my head and drew my hand away to pick up my juice. “Nothing.”
“You wanna go see your family today?”
“What? No.” It was sweet of him to offer, but they were honestly the last people I wanted to see today.
He studied me with his dark, serious eyes, not saying a word. His gaze darted down to my ring finger then back to my face. Whatever he saw must’ve appeased him because he went back to his breakfast.
After we ate and washed the dishes, I grabbed a quick shower. As I towel dried my hair, I found a very serious Blake watching me. “What?”
“You’re beautiful. That’s what.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to my reflection. Next thing I knew, his hands were squeezing my shoulders from behind as our eyes locked in the mirror. “You’re beautiful, Delilah. And you’re all mine. Don’t ever forget that.”
I swallowed, his words leaving a lump of longing in my throat.
“So . . .” He smiled at me as if he knew the feeling. “You gonna help me into my Santa suit?”
After we ate our delivered pizza, another tradition, I dressed in clean jeans and an ivory cashmere sweater, then helped Blake into his costume. I think he’d been dressing up as Santa for Ryder since he was born and I wasn’t sure who loved it more, the kid or my husband.
As usual, I knocked on Trace’s door with dessert in hand, prepped with fake excuses why Uncle Blake would be late.
“Hey, Delilah,” Trace said when he swung open the door, Jingle Bells pouring out behind him from the speakers.
I smiled at his Santa hat and hugged him. “Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you.” When Ryder moved to his side, his earnest gaze glued to me, Trace gave me a secret eyebrow lift. “Where’s Blake?”
I peeked at his son. “Uh . . . he had to finish up something at the shop. He’ll be here soon.” I knelt and drew a small wrapped box from my purse. “For you.”
Ryder’s grin split his face, showing his missing front teeth.
“What do you say?” Trace prompted, a silly grin on his face.
“Thank you!” Ryder shouted as he took off to put the gift under their big, gaudily-decorated tree.
“You’re welcome,” I answered to his back as he dodged the toys already strewn across the living room floor. I had a feeling he’d love the mini remote control truck Blake had picked out.
After Trace shut the door, we moved to the kitchen and I set down the rum cake I’d made before turning to greet everyone else. I hugged Leta and Jesse, then he made a beeline for my cake. Micah waved with a small tip of his beer bottle from his perch on a bar stool and I noticed he was alone. As usual.
“Help yourself to something to drink from the cooler. I have beer and wine coolers. Sodas.”
I thanked him and grabbed a Sprite before taking a seat next to Micah, giving him a smile. I remembered the younger Micah, still on the quiet side, but always ready with his quick wit for his friends. As I studied him, his head downturned, staring into his drink, I wondered what happened in Afghanistan to wound him so badly. He may have come back with his body intact, but his personality had never been the same.
“How’s Rachel doing?” Trace asked, interrupting my thoughts, as he pulled out a tray of deli meats and cheeses.
“She’s okay, I think.”
Trace’s face crinkled with sympathy. “She was close to her dad?”
I nodded. We both were.
Jesse and Leta murmured how sorry they were, but Ryder came skidding into the kitchen before things got too heavy. “I hear bells!”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
“You sure?” Trace said, his head cocked as if he was listening.
Jesse exchanged a grin with his sister and even Micah had a half-smile.
“Yes!” Ryder began bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. “Come on! It could be Santa!” He grabbed Trace’s hand and began yanking him toward the living room just as a giant knock came at the door.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” bellowed a loud voice.
Ryder bolted and threw open the door, revealing a well-padded Blake in a bright red suit. “Santa!”
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Hello, Ryder.” He stepped inside and closed the door, and I could tell he was grinning even through the big white beard. “Have you been a good boy this year?”
“Yes!”
“I thought so. I have you on my nice list.” Dark sparkling eyes caught mine above Ryder’s head and suddenly my belly erupted with a fierce emotion I couldn’t pinpoint. Hope? Love? If it was love, it was a newer, deeper, different kind than I’d ever felt before. I’d always thought Blake would be a good father, but in that moment, I knew it without a shadow of a doubt. He’d love his children with a protective ferocity that was never shown to him by his own father. I hoped I could do the same as a mother.
We moved toward the couch, where Blake sat and took Ryder on his knee. They talked a few minutes about what Ryder had been doing in school and how he’d even saved a cricket from getting squished in the driveway. Blake finally asked, “So, what should I bring a good boy like you for Christmas this year?”
Ryder’s little legs kicked back and forth with excitement. “I want a big set of Legos and a microscope. Please!” His little voice took on the high pitch only a child begging for what he wants can obtain.
Blake tipped his head and Trace and I exchanged a glance.
“A microscope?” Blake repeated.
“Yes. So I can look at bugs and boogers and stuff.”
“Ew, gross,” Leta murmured, earning a snicker from Micah.
“Ah.” Blake chuckled. “Alrighty then. I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
Ryder nodded and hopped off his lap, his puppy eyes nothing short of adoring. “I’ll leave you some milk and cookies tonight. I won’t forget. You like Oreos, right?”
Blake rubbed his rotund padded belly. “I sure do. I’ll see you later, I need to get to work if I’m going to get all my deliveries done on time tonight.” He patted Ryder’s head and ruffled his hair. “You have a Merry Christmas, Ryder.”
We all followed Blake as he made his way out with a few more ‘Ho, ho, hos’ and bell jingling. Once the door was closed, Ryder was a massive ball of energy, and it took some serious parenting on Trace’s part to get him settled down with some quiet toys and a snack.
“You’re a really good father,” I said as the adults got comfortable again in the kitchen. Part of me couldn’t wait to see Blake do the same. Maybe we’d share our news with all of our friends soon.
Trace leveled me with a serious expression. “I try. Though it’s not always easy.”
“Blake told me he’s been having some trouble in school?”
Micah ambled away to play with Ryder as Leta moved to the cooler for a drink and Jesse helped himself to a plate of snacks. I kept my eyes trained on Trace, who seemed to be troubled.
“Yeah,” he finally conceded. “He’s realized that all the other kids have mommies and he doesn’t. I tried explaining things so he’d understand, but he just doesn’t get it.” He shot a look to the living room and lowered his voice. “He’s started being disruptive in class, not doing his work, talking back to the teacher when he gets upset. They’re being as patient as they can, but something’s gotta give.”
“Aw, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded. “Even though we were never going to work, I hate that Kristi did our son so wrong. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“No. He doesn’t.” I moved to wrap an arm around him just as Micah returned with a regularly clothed Blake.
Trace let me hug him briefly then stepped away. “Hey,” he said to Blake. “Thanks, man.”
Blake studied me a moment then turned his attention to his friend. “No big deal. It’s fun.” He moved next to me and tucked me under his arm, pressing a kiss to my temple. His gaze raked over the Sprite in my hand, a knowing smile tilting his mouth. “Thanks for taking care of my girl.”
“No problem.”
Jesse tossed his empty plate in the trash then hurled himself at Blake. He wrapped him up in a chokehold, grinning, while he gave him a knuckle noogie. “What’d you get me, Santa? I’ve been a good boy.”
Blake threw him off with a matching grin. “Fuck off. You’ll be lucky to get coal this year, fool.”
“Then what’s Santa getting you?” Jesse asked, exchanging a fist bump with Micah.
Blake froze, his dark eyes on me. “Guess it’s up to Mrs. Claus to say.”
Blake
I studied Dee, wondering if she’d be pissed at me for putting her on the spot. I’d been respectful of her wishes to keep our personal life private as much as possible and I wouldn’t blow it now.
She blinked her big baby blues at me, a sweet flush rising on her cheeks.
“So, what’s Blake getting?” Trace prompted.
Silence fell in the kitchen. I tuned into the sounds of cartoons and Ryder playing noisily in the o
ther room.
She glanced around and her gaze dipped to her boots. “Well . . . Blake’s gift won’t get here for a few months.”
“What?” Jesse asked, confusion wrinkling his face. “You order him some kind of exotic car or something?”
I stifled a laugh.
Looked like Delilah did, too. “Uh, not exactly.”
“Why don’t you tell them when it’s coming, Dee,” I said softly, caressing her with my eyes. I loved that woman so fucking much right then, I thought I’d explode with it.
Her smile lit up the kitchen, chasing all my doubts away. “Well, the doctor says late June or early July.”
Dee and I maintained eye contact while everyone around us froze in confusion. Then, it clicked, and they all began chattering at once.
“A baby? You’re having a baby?” Leta squealed.
Micah simply smiled.
Trace clapped me on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man. That’s awesome.”
I nodded. “Thanks. I couldn’t be happier.”
Delilah’s face softened and tears filled her eyes. She quickly dabbed her face with a napkin as Leta, in a show of womanly support, collected her into a bear hug.
Jesse caught my eye, his expression stoic. I knew what he was thinking. He was the only one I’d told about all of Dee’s other pregnancies and losses. I guess it felt safe while he was locked up and I needed someone to talk to. He was obviously worried it would happen again. And what would happen to us if it did. Our marriage was already on thin ice.
I tipped my head in his direction, indicating I understood.
He finally broke through the crowd and hugged Delilah. “Congratulations.”
She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
We chatted and snacked for a while longer, the girls goo-gooing over baby stuff as the guys migrated to the farthest corner.
“So, what’s new on the Porsche?” Micah asked, his nearly black eyes concerned.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m working out all the paperwork and insurance bullshit.” I took a big swallow of my soda.
