The Baby: The Bride Series

by Doyle, S

  No, Ellie would never do that. She might have thought I would be pissed. She wouldn’t have known how much it would hurt me. How much of a betrayal it felt like. Not just of me, but of us. If she’d known that, she wouldn’t have done it.

  “I yelled at her. Pretty hard,” I admitted. I hated getting mad like that. I hated seeing her crying and shaking. I was just so gutted. My mother? She thought she could reach out to my mother. I never wanted to see or have anything to do with that woman again.

  “Dude, you yelled at a pregnant chick? That’s harsh.”

  I winced. I had been harsh.

  “Guess it’s time to go man up.” I sighed, but even as I stood I could feel the anger waning. The hurt, sure it was still there, but next time when she said she was sorry, I might be able to hear it. Take it in. Believe it.

  “Good luck.”

  “I’m the victim here,” I reminded him.

  Cody laughed. “Please, your wife is carrying your kid. I have a feeling by the time all is said and done you’ll be apologizing to her.”

  I scowled at him, but he was probably right.

  7

  Ellie

  I basically cried myself into exhaustion but I still couldn’t sleep. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. I didn’t know if Jake was going to come back to the house tonight, and I wasn’t sure he would want to see me if he did, so I decided to crash in my room. Or my old room. We had painted it and taken down all my stuff from when I was a kid and packed it all away. So it was less ode to Ellie’s old room and more neutral.

  We basically packed up everything but the picture Jake had given me for my birthday—of my parents when they were pregnant with me—and my vibrator. One sat on top of the nightstand on my side of the bed in our room, the other was tucked inside the second drawer.

  Because while I like to call Jake a prude and say how he was afraid of anal (which he was) he still liked to play every once in a while.

  I squirmed in my cold and lonely bed just thinking about it.

  Other than that, all my girly stuffed animals and posters of actors—I was partial to Ryan Reynolds—it was all gone. Now it was just a guest room, but I supposed it would eventually be the nursery.

  Wow. How crazy was that? My baby was going to grow up in my old room. I hadn’t let myself get that far in the pregnancy, but now I supposed it was time to let all of that go and start thinking ahead. For Jake.

  Because Jake didn’t deserve any of the things I had done to him. Pushing him away emotionally and physically. I told myself it was for him, not to get too attached in case something went wrong, but the reality was I was hurting inside and so I turned that hurt toward him.

  Which he stoically took for five months. Until I did the unthinkable.

  He thought I had betrayed him. Hell, I thought I had betrayed him. Isn’t that why I had to drive to Jefferson to mail the damn thing?

  The letter.

  He said no reaching out, but he had to know I already did it. It had been less than a week. I hadn’t expected to hear anything so soon. I didn’t give her a phone number or anything like that, but she obviously knew who I was and where Long Valley Ranch was. She had lived here for eleven years. There was no getting around that.

  I groaned in the empty room. He was going to be pissed all over again. Once he knew about the letter, if she didn’t contact us at all, then my worst fear would be realized and he would feel rejected by her. Be hurt all over again by her. By me.

  Hey Jake, can you just sit still while I kick you in the nuts over and over.

  That was assuming he was ever going to speak to me.

  He had to eventually, right? We had fought before, mostly about stupid stuff, but it never lasted. Neither one of us was the type to hold a grudge. I could only keep the silent treatment going for a max of a few hours. Jake… he usually got mad, but then cooled off pretty quickly.

  Tonight he’d been gone for hours.

  Then again, I had never hurt him this much, not even when I told him I wanted a divorce so many years ago. Who knew how long it would be before he would speak to me… longer still until he actually listened to me.

  He would listen to me eventually though. He was going to have to know how sorry I was. How I truly thought I was doing something that needed to be done even if it was totally inconsiderate of his feelings. I had only been thinking about my baggage. Reliving that feeling of abandonment over and over again.

  It was something I never told anyone. Never said aloud anyway. How angry I had been at my dad for dying. For leaving me.

  The thought of doing that to my child… of having my child be that angry with me. I couldn’t bear it.

  I thought the only way to change that was to change something tangible in our lives. Like I could create this safety net, and once I was sure it was in place then I could let myself be happy about the baby.

  As if Jake and his happiness weren’t supposed to be as important as mine.

  Another groan. Suddenly it was all so completely clear how selfish I had been. Three years into this marriage and I was still learning on the job.

  I heard the downstairs door open and close. Instantly, I tensed. He was back, so that was a good thing. I thought he might have pulled a me and headed for the cabin as an escape. Then I heard his footsteps on the stairs.

  I had closed my door. I figured if he passed it, then he would realize where I was sleeping. Would that make him more upset or relieved? It was hard to know.

  Except then I heard him pass the door without stopping. Not a knock. Not a check up on me. Nothing. Just right past me as if he was fine with me sleeping in another room. It hurt and tweaked my heart, but I couldn’t be upset it about because I pushed him to that.

  God, I had so fucked this up.

  Then not five minutes later, I heard footsteps coming down the hall again. The door opened, no knock, and I cringed, worried there was going to be more yelling. Because truly I deserved more yelling, but I really super hated it when Jake yelled at me.

  But no, he just came over to the bed and pulled back the covers. Then next thing I felt were his arms slipping under me and him lifting me against his chest. Which was crazy, because take my normal size and add the baby weight on top of that, I was flat out heavy.

  Obviously not to Jake.

  “But you’re mad at me,” I wailed even as I put my arms around his neck. He was shirtless, which meant he’d realized what I was doing by sleeping in the other room, went back to our room to change before he came and got me.

  “Yep,” he said as he carried me to our room and laid me down on the bed.

  I looked up at him then. It was hard to look at him when I knew what I had done to him.

  “But you’re my wife. You sleep in my bed. Angry or not. Got it?”

  I nodded. I was not giving him any reason to be any angrier with me. He got into bed next to me but he didn’t try and bring me closer. He turned out the light on his side of the bed and we both lay on our backs, pretending there wasn’t a three-thousand-pound elephant sitting between us.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sleep on this and deal with it the morning. I turned on my side toward him and propped myself up on my elbow so I could see his face in the dark moonlit filled room.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  “Okay, but I get to say that I screwed up and I know it. But you also have to know I already sent a letter so you can be mad about everything at once. I didn’t tell her much about anything. Just that we were married and going to have a baby and she was the only grandparent still alive, and did that matter to her. It was facts and no emotion. I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait and see what she did first. I thought if she didn’t even bother to write back, I didn’t want you to know that and feel rejected all over again. Which of course now you will know, so I screwed that up too. I’m so freaking sorry.”

  Jake sighed and then turned on his side toward me. “It�
�s not going to hurt me if she doesn’t write back. I have no emotion left for her to be hurt by her. If she doesn’t communicate, it will be simpler. If she does…”

  “I will tell her I shouldn’t have contacted her and to never contact us again.”

  “Or ignore her and she’ll go away. She’s good at that. Trust me.”

  “Okay.” Tentatively I reached out to touch his chest. “You know I didn’t do this to hurt you. It was wrong and I was selfish and I see all of that now. I thought… I thought it would help me… with the fear.”

  He covered the hand resting on his chest and pulled it so that it was over his heart. “I know that. Once I cooled down, I realized how scared you must have been to have even thought about doing something like that.”

  “I don’t think I deserve a pass for this one.”

  “Oh trust me, you’re not getting one. I just haven’t thought of a creative way yet for you to repay me. What I’m saying is that I knew you were afraid, and I kept expecting you to get over it, and that wasn’t exactly fair of me either. I should have taken more care to understand why you were so scared. We could have talked about it more. I could have maybe assured you that I intend on planning for every contingency.”

  This time I moved forward and he brought me against his chest. I kissed him right above the nipple and felt the relief flood me. He didn’t hate me. I hadn’t hurt us beyond repair.

  “It is getting better,” I mumbled. “I told you I think I can ride Petunia now.”

  “You’re not riding Petunia. You’re too pregnant for that now. A fall could hurt the baby.”

  I bounced up, bracing my weight against his chest. “Jake, you can’t tell me I can’t ride Petunia.”

  “I just did.”

  “But that’s not right. That’s sexist. Thinking I can’t make the decision on my own to know when it might be too dangerous to ride Petunia.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’re afraid to ride her for five months in case something might happen, now I’m agreeing with you and you’re calling me a sexist. Do you see how unfair this whole sex debate is for men?”

  I glowered. “It’s not unfair. It’s…” I stopped myself. I was going to rail about choice and brains and logic and decision making. The truth was I still was sort of scared about riding Petunia. I figured if I needed to prove to Jake that I was going to get better with the whole being pregnant thing, I needed to overcome some of those fears.

  Jake essentially took that one away. Even if it was sort of sexist. It was also I’m your husband and sometimes I know you better than you know yourself. I wasn’t sure what the actual word for that was.

  So I plopped down on his chest. I let him put his arms around me, and I thought of what I could do to show him things were going to be different now. Things were going to be better.

  Before I could think of anything, all the crying and the worrying from before finally caught up with me and I fell asleep in his arms.

  * * *

  I woke up horny. This was not a new event. This had been happening now for weeks once the nausea went away. I turned over and saw that it was still early. Dawn wasn’t breaking yet. We didn’t bother with things like shutters or curtains on the upstairs windows, because it wasn’t as if there was anyone out there looking to see in, and Jake liked waking up with natural sunlight rather than some blaring alarm clock.

  He was still sleeping—I could tell by the steady up and down of his chest.

  You won’t let me fuck you.

  When did you stop believing in me?

  You, of all people in this world, you should have known that.

  All the angry words of last night came back to me in a rush. But he’d forgiven me. Which made him an even better man. He could have yelled more, he could have held a grudge. He could have stomped around and called me out for not respecting his wishes, for only thinking of myself.

  Instead he’d tried to understand my fear. Where it had come from. Why I would do something like this in the first place. Then he’d come home and brought me back to bed.

  Our bed.

  Because he loved me. Because he knew what I knew—that we were in this together. Forever. Instead of shutting him out, I should have been talking to him from the beginning. I should have been telling him every step of the way where my head was.

  Maybe if I had, the fear wouldn’t have seemed so big and awful.

  I reached out and touched his furred chest over his heart. He still didn’t wake up and I reveled in it. The up and down of is breath. The slow even beat of his heart. I had this crazy urge to lick his nipple.

  And you know, since we were married, I could do that. His body was my body. My body was his body. It’s how it had been since the moment we had both acknowledged that what was between us was more than friendship.

  More than history.

  Slowly I moved over him and did exactly what I had been imagining. A long slow swipe over his nipple, between where my fingers still rested over his heart. He grunted and shifted his hips, but his eyes didn’t open. It was probably an unconscious gesture. I had been waking him up with steady blow jobs for a few weeks now, so he was accustomed to being aroused when he woke.

  I let my hand drift down under the covers until my fingers wrapped around his thick, heavy morning erection. He’d started sleeping without his boxer briefs, and instead wore loose pajama pants, I think to give me easier access to his dick. So thoughtful, my husband.

  He grunted again and lifted his hips into my hand. His arm going up over his head. Still, he didn’t open his eyes. No doubt in that state between sleep and wakefulness where all he could register was how his body felt.

  Heavy, aroused, warm and comfortable. Safe.

  It’s always how I felt, when he would wake me up with sex.

  I sat up and pulled off my T-shirt. Something looser than the tank tops I usually wore to give my boobs room to breathe. Then I wiggled out of my bottoms. I pushed the covers back down his legs and took a second to admire this strong, amazing man. His cock was hard, tenting against the loose material. I freed it and I bent to swipe it with my tongue.

  “Hmmm,” he groaned.

  This was what he expected. For me to go down on him. To take him as deep as I could into my mouth. To lick and swipe and suck.

  All of which was always fun and exciting. The way he jumped in my mouth. Grew even harder than he was whenever I started. Except that wasn’t what I wanted this morning.

  This morning everything was different, and I knew the fear that had dogged me this entire pregnancy was, if not gone, not as overwhelming as it had been. At least not as overwhelming as my desire for my husband. I needed him inside me. Deep inside me. So he would understand that while I was scared, I wasn’t too scared.

  While I had fears, I was willing to work to overcome them.

  Most importantly that I believed and trusted in him to take care of me.

  To take care of us.

  I worked the pants down his thighs, then I straddled his hips. I took his dick in my hand and pushed him between my legs. I had woken up wet, but the idea of actually fucking him again had me so slick it didn’t matter that it had been months since we’d done this. He slid in easily and I threw my head back, relishing every inch of his penetration.

  I braced my hands on his chest, and this time when I looked down at him, his eyes were open. His hands at my waist.

  “Ellie?”

  I heard a million questions in just him saying my name. Was I comfortable with this? Was I okay? Was I sure I was ready for this?

  Every answer was yes. I swiveled my hips and sank down further, and together we were both groaning.

  He didn’t thrust, didn’t push, didn’t even try to flip me onto my back, which I knew he would eventually do when he was ready to come. Instead he just kept his hands light on my hips and let me do my thing.

  Up and down and around and down and down, down, down.

  “Jake,” I sighed. Because it felt so good. Because
I was so close. Because I was so damn happy. So much in love with him and our baby.

  Tears filled my eyes and I didn’t care. I cried and sobbed and rode him as hard as I could. I pulled his hand from my hip and brought it to my breasts. He pinched my nipples and I whimpered. Then both of his hands were cupping and rubbing my breasts. His callused thumbs brushing against my sensitive tips.

  I pushed harder, felt him go so deep, felt my clit mashed into his groin and then I was there. Coming and keening and crying all at the same time. I felt him pump, once and then again and then he was right there with me.

  “Fuck, Ellie. So fucking good.”

  I collapsed on top of him, but my baby bump didn’t quite fit between us so he rolled us on our side with him pressed against my back, his face in my neck.

  “You came with me on top,” I muttered.

  “Are you kidding? Waking up to the sight of you riding my cock, it’s a wonder I lasted as long as I did,” he muttered against my neck. “Does this mean you’re not afraid of sex anymore?”

  I tried to process how I felt. As I said, it wasn’t like the fear was completely gone. It just wasn’t as controlling. “Let’s just say we’re waiting a solid twenty-four hours before trying that again.”

  He kissed my ear. “Fair enough. I missed you.”

  “I missed you too,” I whispered even as I felt the tears coming back. I had done this. I had pulled myself away and it wasn’t fair to him. “I’m so sorry…”

  “No,” he said, giving me a squeeze. “No more sorry. That’s done and behind us. We only need to think about the future. Going forward, you talk to me. About everything. The good and the bad.”

  I nodded. “I promise.”

  He rubbed his hand over my belly, and suddenly I felt something from the inside. “Oh no.”

  “What?”

  “Something doesn’t feel right. It’s like, like… I don’t know. Some kind of fluttering. What if we did jar it loose?”

  “I don’t think…”

  It happened again, right on the side of my stomach. I brought his hand to the spot. “Can’t you feel that?”