“No, I really want you to stay.”
I haven’t been a part of this pregnancy as I should be. I’ve been emotionally checked out, dealing with my secret demons, but that changes here and now. “I would love to stay with you, baby.”
* * *
“Where do you want me?”
“On your side, a pillow between your knees and one under your head.”
Naked Lawrence. Fragrant candles burning. Relaxing music playing. Lavender oil ready to be warmed in my hands when she’s in position. Perfect recipe for a prenatal massage.
I dribble several drops of diluted lavender oil in my hands. I rub them together before placing my palms against the back of her neck. “Lavender oil is safe in second trimester. I checked.”
“I know.”
Of course she does. She’s the essential-oil expert and natural healer of the two of us.
I begin at her nape and slowly work my way down the muscles of her back, giving each one plenty of attention, until I reach her hips. I gently push and circle my fist into the base of her spine. “Feel good?”
“Very good. I’ve been hurting there this week.”
She hasn’t mentioned that she’s been experiencing pain.
“Maybe it’s time you stopped working.”
She’s on her feet all day at the cider brewery. That can’t be good for her or the baby.
“It’s just sciatica. Most pregnant women get it from time to time. It’s no reason to stop working.”
We forewent buying Savan Cider after we got engaged. As newlyweds, we didn’t need to tackle running a company in Birmingham and another in Savannah. Been there, done that, and it didn’t work. So we started our own cider brewery, a sister company to Iron City.
Oliver didn’t want Savan Cider anyway. He knew how miserable our separation was making both of us. The whole thing was a ploy to bring Lawrence and me back together. And I played right into his hands. Best scheme ever.
I tap Lawrence on the hip. “I’ll do your other side if you’ll roll.”
“Definitely if it means you’re going to keep this up.”
I move in the opposite direction this time, ending up at the back of her neck, before moving on to her calves and feet.
“That was so good. Thank you.”
I finish her massage and lie down behind her, spooning. My hand goes to her swollen abdomen. “How is our little one?”
“Very active. You must have stirred him up. There are lots of flutters going on in there.”
I hold my hand still and concentrate on trying to feel them. Nothing. I think it makes me a little jealous. “How long have you been feeling the baby move?”
“A couple of weeks.”
That long? “You haven’t said anything about it.”
“Because you withdraw every time I talk about the baby.”
I hear the hurt in her voice.
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forehead to her bare back, powerless to stop the tears. I’m such a selfish bastard. I made this about me and how to guard my heart against another devastating blow. I never stopped to consider how much disconnecting was hurting my wife.
“I allowed my heart to disengage from the baby and pregnancy in case we lost this one too. So it wouldn’t hurt so much. I haven’t been here for you or our little one, and I am truly sorry for that. You can’t begin to imagine how much.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Lawrence. I swear that I love this baby. He’s already in my heart and I can hardly wait until he’s in my arms.”
She puts her hand over mine and presses it against her lower belly. “I know. I’ve always known, even when you didn’t.”
Fear has held me back from embracing this precious life inside Lawrence as I should. But no more. I’m all in.
* * *
It’s the final countdown. Baby Broussard could hatch anytime now. “You should be resting, love. Not cleaning the house.”
“I can’t help it. I feel good for the first time in days. I don’t want to wallow on that couch another minute.”
If she won’t listen to me, maybe she’ll listen to another woman. “Tell her, Mom. It isn’t good for her to be running around the house like a madwoman.”
Lawrence says that I’m overprotective and worry too much. I disagree. It isn’t possible to be too concerned for the health and well-being of my wife and child.
“Leave her alone, Luc. She’s nesting. It’s her motherly instinct to clean and get the house in order before the baby comes.”
“You think it means the baby is coming because she’s dusting like a maniac?”
“Possibly.”
Wow. A pregnant woman’s body does some really weird things.
Lawrence nests all evening. My mom says that it’s normal behavior so I let her have at it. I’m hoping Mom is right and this is a sign the baby is coming soon. I’m ready to meet my son or daughter.
Her burst of energy isn’t even close to being over at bedtime. “These pregnancy hormones do crazy things to me. Wanting you hits me in waves. Right now, I’m drowning because I want you so bad.”
Whoa. She hasn’t been like this in a while. Lucky me.
She gets on all fours and then moves over to straddle me. “I’m big and slow these days.”
“No, baby. You’re perfect.”
I put my hands on her round belly and rub each side before gliding my hands to her hips. “No panties? Man, you came to bed ready.”
I love it.
“You have no idea just how ready I am.” A streak of white leaves her body and lands on the foot of the bed.
Damn. She stripped that gown off fast for a pregnant woman. “I’d say you’re the opposite of slow.”
Lawrence tugs my shirt upward. “Get this off. And your pants.”
She lifts, and I do too, so I can obey her orders. “Damn, I’m loving this nesting thing.”
I push my fingers into the hair at her nape and pull her face to mine. She sinks down until I’m all the way inside her. She moves up and down several times, sliding me in and out, but it isn’t like normal.
“This isn’t working. I can’t get going. I’m too big and unbalanced.”
“You’re not too big.”
“Well, I’m too… something.”
“Tell me how you want it.” I will stand on my head and give it to her if that’s what she wants.
“Side lying, from the back.”
“From the back is not a problem.” It’s my favorite position.
I ease inside her and it’s so good that it’s impossible to suppress my groan. I pull back and thrust slowly, savoring the squeeze of her body around mine. “Fuck! I can’t believe how tight you feel. It’s sending tingles all over me.”
I thrust a few more times. “Is this position good for you, babe?”
She’s tilting her hips backward, rocking, to meet me with every stroke. “Mm-hmm.”
I reach around her pregnant belly to that sensitive place between her legs. “Tell me when I find the spot.”
She moans, and without a word, I know I’ve hit it. “Oh, right there. Right there.”
I circle the whole area fast and hard. Slow and soft. Back and forth. Side to side. It’s anybody’s guess what will come next. “I’m almost there.”
I move faster. My cock and fingers. “Do it. Come. I want to feel your body quiver and contract around me.”
“Ohh… I’m coming.”
Yes, she is. And so am I.
I bury my face in the back of her hair. “I love you, baby.”
She reaches over her shoulder and grabs the back of my head. “I love you, too.”
Our arms, our legs, our entwined bodies collapse like rag dolls. “That was fucking awesome.”
She giggles. “Our baby’s first word is going to be fuck if you don’t find an alternative soon.”
“I think we have a little time until he says his first word.”
“You always say he and him. Do you wa
nt a boy?”
“I don’t care what we get as long as he or she is healthy.” That’s it. The only thing I care about.
I pull out and reach for a pillow to place under her head. “Need one between your knees too?”
“Yes, please.”
I spoon behind Lawrence, wrapping my arm around her waist and rubbing her tummy. The movement beneath my hand is like a restless sea. “Feels like he’s awake.”
“Yeah. That stirred him up.”
“He’ll be stirring in our arms before too much longer. And keeping us up half the night. Mom thinks it’ll be soon.”
“I would be completely okay with that.” She places a hand on her belly next to mine. “I’m ready to get my hands on our little snuggle bug. This has been a long wait.”
It has indeed. But even miracles take a little time. I see that now.
* * *
Granola earth birth. Hippie style. All natural. Nothing for pain. That’s how Lawrence wants to labor and give birth to our child. I admire her for that. But damn. I can hardly stand seeing her in this much pain.
“I didn’t know it was gonna hurt like this.” Her breathing is no longer slow and deep. She’s panting. “Uhh… it’s… baadd.”
She’s writhing all over the bed. “Get the epidural, baby.”
“No, no, no. I’ve come this far without it.”
Lawrence was dilated seven centimeters last time she was checked. The nurse said she didn’t feel like the last three would take long. God, I hope not. This is horrible to watch.
“Hold my hand.” She squeezes it. Hard. “I don’t think I can do this. It hurts too bad.”
I move lower so we’re face-to-face. “Look at me, Lawrence.”
Her eyes meet mine and I see the agony there. “Will it be easy? No. Will it be worth it when you hold our baby in your arms? Absolutely. Remember that little face we saw on the ultrasound. The one with your nose and chin. You can do this for him.”
She squeezes her lids tightly. “Get the nurse. I’ve… gotta… push.”
“Don’t push yet, Lawrence.”
“I… can’t… stop.”
What the fuck is happening?
I release her hand and dash for the door. “My wife says she has to push.”
Lawrence’s nurse rushes in and does an exam. “She’s right. It’s baby time.”
The moment has arrived. Almost four years of wishing, longing, praying, and waiting for this child. We finally get to meet our son or daughter.
Lawrence reaches for my hand and squeezes, her teeth clenched. “Ohh… this one hurts really bad! It’s all the way down… in my butt!”
The nurse stops what she’s doing and pats Lawrence on the leg. “It’s okay. That means the baby is moving down. You’re getting closer.”
Oh fuck. The heaviness of the reality hits me—I’m about to become a father. And very soon from the looks of things.
I bring her hand to my lips for a kiss. “Almost time to hold our snuggle bug.”
Lawrence’s nurse coaches her through a series of contractions and she’s in so much pain. Suffering.
“How much longer?”
“Close. We’re almost ready for the doctor.”
Almost ready isn’t close enough.
I’m supposed to take care of Lawrence and this baby, but I can’t do a fucking thing to help her except push her sweat-soaked hair away from her forehead. “Not much longer, baby. Don’t stop. You’re almost done.”
“Pressure’s… coming. Oh… God. Gotta… push.”
The nurse motions for me to look between Wren’s legs. “Want to see the top of your baby’s head?”
I’m scared to look but I’m afraid not to as well. This may be the only child we ever have and I’d hate to miss this opportunity.
“I do.”
Lawrence pushes and I watch our baby’s head come down until I can see the entire crown. I’ve never seen anything so amazing in all my life. So surreal. “There’s a ton of dark hair.”
She pushes three times and then falls back, breathing heavily. “I’m glad he’s taking after you because I didn’t have hair until I was almost two.”
“I think we’re ready for a doctor.”
“Hear that, babe? She’s calling the doctor to come for delivery.” I lean down and kiss her forehead. “I love you so much.”
She strokes my face with her hand. “I love you, too.”
Dr. Nichols arrives and the medical staff takes their places. “You’re starting a contraction so push hard and we’ll meet this little bundle of joy.”
Lawrence takes a deep breath and blows it out before taking another and holding it. I help her pull her legs back and her face turns beet red as she pushes with every bit of her remaining strength. She stops mid push and releases her legs as her back bows from the bed. “Omigod, get it out. Get it out.”
“Push, Lawrence. Push.”
Her legs are shaking and she reaches up to grab me. She pulls me down and squeezes me around the back of my neck. “I can’t do it, Lucas. It hurts too much.”
“Come on, Lawrence. Do it for our baby. Push him out.”
She releases her ironfisted hold on me. “Okay. I’m doing it.”
Lawrence rears up and pulls her legs back. Her eyes are squeezed tight, her brow wrinkled. Tears escape her eyes and it breaks my heart to see her suffering in silence. It’s worse than if she were screaming.
“Look down here and watch your baby come into the world.”
I lean over Lawrence’s leg and watch a perfect little head emerge from my wife’s body. That face. It’s the one we saw months ago. I’ve never seen anything more amazing in my life.
“Head’s out, Lawrence. Let’s see the rest of this baby and find out what you’ve been cooking in there all these months,” the doctor says.
“Push, baby. You can do it.”
I hear a gush of fluid and then a piercing cry—our baby’s first sound.
“It’s a boy.”
I kiss the top of her sweat-soaked head and attempt to tell this woman what I’m feeling, but I can’t find my voice.
I love you so much, Wren. Thank you for giving me a son.
Our crying son is placed on Lawrence’s chest where the nurses wipe him clean, cover his head with a blue beanie, and stuff him inside his mother’s gown. “Hello, my sweet Emeric.”
“He’s okay?”
“Looks healthy as can be.”
Thank God.
I look at my son and know that I owe every bit of this to Lawrence. Our happy life together. This healthy child we wished, hoped, and longed to hold in our arms. Without her, I would have been content to sail through my stagnant life and never know this kind of joy.
“Lucas Emeric Broussard II.” I lower my face so I can get a better look at him. I can’t believe how chubby he is, considering he has a vegan mama. “I can’t believe how much I already love him.”
“I know. Me too.”
When I met this beautiful woman, all I wanted from her was a dirty weekend… until that wasn’t enough and I wanted so much more. I had no idea that more would eventually translate into making her my wife and mother of our child. Or maybe even children. Who knows what the future holds? I only know one thing for sure. I’m no longer afraid of what life with Lawrence Thorn Broussard has to offer.
The End
Neighbor Girl
She'll give him more than her body. She'll give him her trust in this sizzling romance from New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal best-selling author Georgia Cates.
A beautiful stranger.
That’s all she was when I moved into the house beside her.
And then I discovered something.
My neighbor isn’t your typical girl next door.
She’s a preacher’s daughter.
She’s a business professional.
She’s a fiery vixen who desires a strong alpha in the bedroom.
And a firm grip around her throat.
; That’s what I give her.
But more than that, I want to leave my mark on the most intimate, untouched part of her body.
Her heart.
Things are perfect until that cruel twist of fate.
We learn that our paths aren’t crossing for the first time.
And we aren’t strangers at all.
Our history is painful.
Our love, fragile.
Our ending, inevitable… unless I can convince her that the past shouldn’t end our future.
1
Oliver Thorn
A house surrounded by a white picket fence, sitting in the middle of a perfectly manicured lawn, with the inviting brick steps leading up to the front door. A home where every member of the family living under the roof wears a true smile. Says please. Says thank you. Says I love you.
Not shut your bratty mouth before I give you something to cry about.
That is the kind of house my childlike mind envisioned when I dreamed of the place where happy people lived. The home every kid deserves—from the beginning, not after six years of torment.
And now that house is mine.
Lawry and I stand side by side looking at what I’ve repeatedly referred to as a sound financial investment but it’s more. So much more even if I don’t admit it.
“I hope you’re not having buyer’s remorse.”
“No buyer’s remorse. At least not until I have to fork over the payments.”
“Your first home, Ollie.”
My first home. I like the idea and sound of those words a little more than I thought I would.
Lawry puts her arm around my waist and leans in for a side hug with her head pressed against my shoulder. “I think you’re going to be very happy here.”
“I think so too.”
I fish the house key from my pocket and dangle it before us. “All those boxes aren’t going to move themselves.”
Southern Girl Series: Bohemain Girl, Neighbor Girl & Intern Girl Page 26
