by S. E. Hall
She lets me put an arm over her waist when we sleep, but she doesn’t scoot further back against me. I’m allowed to rest a hand on her tummy, but she doesn’t cover it with her own. She smiles when I read to the baby, but she doesn’t rub my head methodically while I do. I know she’s afraid that I’ll get scared again and bolt, but I don’t know what the ultimate grand gesture, the one that knocks down the whole wall all at once.
“Hey,” she smiles as she steps around the corner, hair damp and dressed in a short white robe, “when did you get home?”
“Not too long ago. You hungry? I got your favorite. And,” I hold up the box, “some ovaryfest for your viewing pleasure.”
“Sounds like the perfect night to me!” She beams, stretching up to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s eat on the couch and watch the movie. And thank you.”
—Emmett—
“Sawyer?” I whisper in his ear. “It’s morning. Merry Christmas.”
“Mhmm,” he grumbles as he rouses himself, firming his arm around my waist to pull me against his chest. “Merry Christmas.” He kisses my forehead blindly, eyes still closed. “What time is it?”
“Time to get up and open your presents!” I can’t help it, I’m excited to have someone I love to share the holiday morning with after so long without. “Last one to the tree makes breakfast!” I clamor out of bed and hurry down the hall, already waiting anxiously on my knees as he sleepily emerges. Mussed hair, five o’clock shadow, and wearing only navy pajama pants, he would make an excellent present…if I knew for sure.
“Do I have time for coffee?” He smirks at me.
“Yes, but hurry!”
While he’s dragging in the kitchen, I sort the presents into two neat little stacks, stopping short and covering my gasp with my hand. “Sawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“Why does Alex have presents? I don’t think babies get gifts until they’re actually born.” I’m still talking loudly as he ambles in the room, leaning down to kiss the top of my head.
“My baby, my rules.”
“You’re crazy.” I roll my eyes, merely feigning indifference when inside, my heart is bursting. I grab two of his presents and walk on my knees to where he sits on the couch, handing them to him. I can’t wait to see if he likes them. “Open that one first,” I direct, pointing to the one on top.
“Hold up, Shorty.” He places the gifts to the side and stands, picking me up effortlessly and setting me on the couch. He retrieves my pile and sets them in my lap, then retakes his seat beside me. “There ya go. We’ll open at the same time.”
He opens his henleys, one gray and one navy, and for me, a bag of Red body spray, bubble bath and lotion.
“Do you like them?” I ask. “You always look so nice in the ones you have.”
He snakes a hand around the back of my neck, pulling my face to his. “I love them. Thank you,” he husks out before kisses me passionately. Wow, he must really like shirts.
Next he opens his Usher cologne and aftershave package, thanking me with another forceful, but wonderful all the same, kiss, his tongue not having to ask for entrance. He tastes like coffee and all I’ve needed but resisted for far too many lonely days and nights and I moan into his mouth, eating back at him urgently. One hand runs up my neck, turning my head as he deepens the kiss momentarily, then pulls back too soon. “Open yours before I—” He shakes his head, visibly getting his heaving chest under control. “Just open yours.”
Hands still shaky from that kiss, I fumble with the wrapping until I’m looking at a silver heart locket, Mine engraved across the front.
“Open it,” his deep whisper slices into my trance.
I do, moisture springing to my eyes when I see a tiny picture of the two of us on one side and the first ultrasound photo on the other. “Sawyer,” I squeak, a tear rolling down the side of my nose.
“Turn it over.”
Yours is across the back.
Maybe because it’s Christmas, or perhaps because of the sweetest gift I’ve ever received, or quite possibly because he’s shirtless, in sexy pajama pants, smelling like Sawyer and kissing me all morning—pick a reason—but I throw myself on him. My lips, my hands, have no rhythm, no grace as I pour into his mouth and onto his body the frustrations of a very pregnant, very sentimental woman who can no longer pretend she doesn’t need him to live.
“Sawyer,” I mewl, clinging to his shoulders and letting my head fall back as he kisses up my neck.
“What, baby? Tell me.”
“Can we?” My hands move, up his neck, around the back of his head, pulling his head down against my neck.
“Can we what?” he pants, clenching both cheeks of my ass in his wanting hands. “What do you want, Em?”
“Ah…” It makes me crazy, senseless to all but his touch, when he uses his teeth to barely nip the tender skin of my neck and underside of my jaw. “Can we do this without forgetting we need time? Just make each other feel good? I need it so bad.”
His mouth disappears abruptly, hands sliding off my ass causing me to raise my head back up and meet eyes so dark blue, pupils so dilated they’re almost black. “Is that what you want? ‘Cause that’s far from what it will be for me.”
“I don’t…” I brush my hair back with both hands and blow out a confused, exasperated breath. “I don’t know. I’m not sure we’re ready for more, if you’re ready for more, but God, I want you, Sawyer. I need to feel you.” I take his hand and guide it to the heated, liquid place between my thighs. “Let’s just make each other feel good. H-have…” Fearful of the coming answer, I turn away before I ask. “Have you been with anybody else?”
He springs off the couch, glaring down at me with both hands on his hips. His face is red with fury; this situation just went way south, way fast. “How can you even ask me that? The last woman I was inside was the last woman I’ll ever be inside! You!” He points one stiff finger at me, his voice escalating. “I’m not gonna fuck you to feel better. My dick’s filed for disability and my heart’s half-broken, but a,” he air quotes with angry, flippant movements, “‘let’s feel better cause it’s Christmas romp’ isn’t gonna cut it for me, Emmett!” He turns, giving me his back, his muscles bulging angrily, hands now linked behind his neck. “I thought you meant we were finally fixed, that we could make love again,” he says softly.
“Oh,” is all I mutter.
“I’m going out now. I’m not running, I just need some time to cool off. I know I hurt you, Emmett, and I’m so fucking sorry, but Goddamn if you didn’t just hurt me too.”
I remain in place on the couch, dumbfounded and curled into myself under the blanket as he stomps around to gather clothes and whatever else he needs. The whole while he mumbles irritably to himself, a few times causing me to jolt when the mumbling turns to a harsher volume and ferocity. When his hand is on the doorknob, he takes one deep breath and turns back to me.
“This is not me running,” he says again.
“Okay,” I whisper and nod.
Chapter 31
Breakfast at Granny’s
—Sawyer—
I drive around on my bike aimlessly for a while, Christmas clearing the roads enough for me to gun it and avoid having to stop much. The briskness in the air whipping past me stings my exposed fingers, but does little to chill my temper. What a splendid fucking end to Christmas morning. I knew this holiday sucked. I thought she was back, exposed, that she’d finally realized we were meant to be and I never really “went” anywhere, but no. No, she wanted to come, missing the d, pregnant and horny.
Had I been with anyone else? Jesus, how far removed was I, putting that possibility in her head? Yeah, Emmett, I fucked other women and slept in bed with you every night…really?
My stomach’s growling, since breakfast was denied. What’s open on Christmas? I cruise through the streets of downtown until I find an open sign calling to me like a beacon and I pull over. Granny’s Kitchen—no fucking way. I’m not sure I believe in
signs, but I believe in this one. I walk in and chuckle at the “Please Wait to be Seated” stand—I’m the only person in here.
A smiling elderly woman, I’m guessing Granny in the flesh, greets me. “One?”
“In all my glory.”
“Follow me.” She shuffles, back bent with age, to a booth where she seats me. “What would you like to drink?”
“Coffee and a water please. You have a big breakfast special?” There’s no way I’m making her walk back and forth to me, poor little thing, so I take a stab at an easy order.
“We do.” She smiles and takes the menu I hold back out to her.
“I’ll take that.” When she scoots away, I rest my elbows on the table, cradling my sagging head in my hands. Maybe I should’ve gone with it, Lord knows I’ve been dying to sink into her again, but something snapped and I simply couldn’t. I refuse, with all the meaningless dick dips I’ve had in my life, to cheapen what I found when I found Emmett. I told her once if she wanted my cock, I wanted her heart. I meant it.
Granny’s back, so I’m forced to move my elbows for her to set down my drinks. “Alone on Christmas? Such a handsome young man?”
“Such a foolish young man is more like it.” I shake my head at myself, giving her my best attempt at a grin. “I can’t get it right, Granny.”
“You messed up with your young lady?”
“Something like that. Then we decided to work it out, but it’s taking a while.” Why I’m telling her all this beats the shit outta me, but Granny’s got kind eyes with wrinkles around them that somehow let me know there’s nothing I could tell her she hasn’t heard or lived through before. “And then today, she—” I cut myself off before I go too far, debating making love versus fucking with a ninety-year-old stranger. “Nothing, never mind.”
I can hear her sympathetic “tsk” as she goes to get my food. Back with my plate, which I have no idea who cooked, as I haven’t seen any trace of anyone else in this place, she doesn’t walk away. Drawn, I look up at her.
“How much time did you waste messing up?” she asks pointedly.
“A while,” I answer quickly. “Too long.”
“And how much time have you spent making it right?”
“Not as long I guess.”
“Which do you think should take more time, bad acts or good ones? Earning trust seems more time-worthy than breaking it to me. What’s that they say, love is patient?”
Damn right. Everybody needs a Granny so wise.
—Emmett—
The grumble of his bike pulling in the driveway wakes me from a nap; I take a lot of them these days. I’m surprised he’s back so soon. My proposition before had been stupid and hurtful. I wouldn’t have blamed him if it took a while to want to look at me again. I’m still sorting through the wake of feelings brought about by his rejection, never mind the fact that he turned down my baser need for something real. Right after I finished feeling like a shunned fool, my insides fluttered at the romanticism of it. He doesn’t want me unless he gets all of me—and from a sexual man like Sawyer, that speaks heavily on his intentions for our forever. A step in the right direction for sure. Doesn’t mean my body’s happy about it though.
He’s at the bedroom door now. I don’t have to roll over to know, my heart rate accelerates and the backs of my knees get clammy anytime he’s near.
“Dane and Laney are headed back,” he says evenly. “You up for going over there tonight?”
“Sure.” I face him now, giving him a smile. I’m way ahead of him—Laney and I are very sneaky when we want to be.
“You wanna talk?”
I sit up, eager to hear what’s on his mind now that he’s calmed down. “Of course, if you do.”
Taking a seat on the bed says that he does. He slouches, his forearms on his knees, hands clasped in between them. “Here’s where I think we’re at. You tell me if I’m wrong.” He takes a minute, tapping his thumbs together. “I love you. You love me…” He angles his head to me and pauses again.
“Very much,” I confirm.
The reassurance earns a brief, but unmistakable, lip quirk and relaxing of his shoulders. “We’re together, having a baby, but you’re afraid to go back to what we were until you’re positive I’m in it for the long haul.” Another glimpse to me for confirmation, at which I nod. “All right then. I’m moving in, officially.”
He’s so cute, firm lip and challenging eyes at his “proclamation.” He already lives here, it’s really just semantics, but I go with it for him.
“That makes sense,” I reply, keeping my face serious.
“We’ll tell Laney tonight, or I can tell her, whichever. Not like she has to make up the rent,” he chuckles, “but still. I know Dane will worry about her being alone.”
These domineering men of ours truly live under some cloud; Dane’s at Laney’s place more than he’s at his own. It’s laughable, but I don’t say anything. “Right,” I agree.
“Now, about the lovin’.” He sighs, taking my hand and rubbing his thumb in my palm. “If you ever question my fidelity again, I’m gonna spank your ass, pregnant or not. You are mine and I am yours. I hope you like my cock, babe, ‘cause it’s the only one you’re ever getting for the rest of your life. And that sweet pussy of yours is the only one I want for as long as I live. But,” his grip on my hand tightens, “you can’t be thinking one thing while you’re with me and showing me another, Em. You wanna tell yourself you’re holding out, testing me or what the fuck ever is going on in that head of yours, fine, you do that. But you know as well as I do that it’s more than just scratching your itch. You want me because you love me and miss me, just like I do you, so when we’re together, be there with me, Emmy. Don’t let fear or ultimatums or girly stipulations get in between us when we make love.”
It’s frightening how well he knows me; and he’s right. There is no way to be with him physically and still hold out mentally. I’m kidding myself and he just called a spade a spade. He sure can give a speech, and of course, I’m crying…cause that’s all I seem to do these days.
“Hey now,” he scoots closer and lifts me into his lap, “no tears, Shorty, I wasn’t trying to be mean.” He lifts my chin and kisses my tears. “I love you, Emmett. I love that you challenge me and make me work for it. I love that you’re strong and capable, and that you always weigh the impact of your decisions against our baby’s future. But the absolute best thing you can give a child, I think, is two parents who love and respect each other and always work things out. I want Alex to know, hell, I want to know, that we’ll always be able to find our way back.”
He talks so eloquently, every single word sincere and thought out. I want so badly to throw up my hands and surrender completely, turn off the intermingling voices in my head and free fall again. If we were just dating, I would, without a second thought. If it were just us, I would, right here and now. A torrid, spontaneous love affair with no sure ending, the heat felt by anyone near.
But that’s not my story.
Chapter 32
Walk My Line
—Sawyer—
“Merry Christmas! We missed you guys!” Laney plows into us with a gripping embrace as we walk through the door at Dane’s house.
“You too,” Emmett hugs her while I scoot around them, arms filled with packages. “How was your trip home? Your family?”
I tune out the rest of their babbling, going in search of Dane and a beer, in either order, finding both in the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, brother.” I clap him on the shoulder and steal the fresh bottle out of his hand.
“Merry Christmas, you have a good one?” he asks, going to the fridge to replace his beer.
“Not bad.” I shrug. “Where’s everybody else?”
“I don’t think any of them are back yet, but you’d have to ask the social director.”
“Ask me what?” Gidge walks in, her arm laced through Emmett’s.
“Anyone else coming tonight?” I ask her, but focus on Emmett, a s
weet smile on her face, but her coloring a bit off.
“No, they’re all still back home. Just us four tonight.” She shoots Emmett a knowing smirk.
I pull out one of the barstools and pat it. “Come sit down, Shorty. You want something to drink, eat?”
“Maybe a bite of something wouldn’t hurt,” she mumbles passively, taking the offered seat.
“Emmett!” Laney buzzes to the fridge, slinging out trays to the island hurriedly. “You should have said something. We brought back food! Dear Lord, Dane, get her a drink. Some hosts we are, depriving the pregnant girl. Emmett. What do you want? We have juice, champagne, oh wait, never mind.”
Oh yeah, Laney’s gonna need some work before she’s ever allowed to babysit. She gets flustered and it’s all out havoc—a complete one-woman circus.
“Laney, I got it,” I step in, suppressing a laugh, “go sit down before you hurt somebody.”
Emmett pats her hand, grinning. “Thank you, I’m fine really. A few bites of something to settle my stomach is all I need.”
“Can I, uh, feel it?” Laney asks her in the most timid voice I think she’s capable of.
“Of course.” Emmett sits forward, offering out her belly more. “I can’t promise you’ll get any action, though.” She giggles. “Usually if I eat some sugar and lie flat on my back, things get busy.”
“Oh wait! I think I felt something!” Laney’s face lights up.
“Trust me, Gidge, you’ll know it if you do.” I slide Emmett’s juice in front of her. “There ya go, babe.” I start removing tinfoil off platters. “Have a snack.”
“Thank you,” she takes a sip then snags a cheese cracker.
Dane’s silence is actually deafening, catching my attention. He’s watching Laney, like an eagle spots a rabbit, as she rubs Emmett’s belly, trying to coerce the baby to move.
“I can’t believe we don’t know what we’re having. Do you know all the stuff we can’t buy because of that? Kick me once if you’re a girl,” Laney barters with the belly. “I really hope you’re a girl.”
