by Karen Cimms
Rain smiled up at me, her eyes brimming. “What do you think, Daddy?”
“Can I touch him?”
Her laugh competed with the robust vocalizations of the baby she held tightly in her arms. “He’s yours. You can touch him whenever you want.”
I eyed the nurse to make sure. When she nodded, I trailed a finger from his shoulder to his tiny, flailing wrist. I’d never felt anything quite as soft, and I worried that my calloused, overworked hands would scratch him. My mind leaped back to high school English and reading Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. Maybe I should do like Curley, and wear gloves with Vaseline at night to soften my hands so that I wouldn’t hurt him.
“Do you want to cut the cord, Chase?” Dr. Hart asked, lifting the long white rope that connected my son to his mother.
I took a deep breath. I’d done my reading, paid attention in birthing class, but I still wanted to be one hundred percent sure it wouldn’t hurt him.
“He won’t feel this, right?”
Dr. Hart held out the surgical scissors. “Not a chance. Don’t worry.”
My knees and my hands were shaking, and it took two tries to get through the cord, but I did it.
“What do you think?” Rain asked.
My grin stretched so wide, it almost hurt. “I think I’m in love.” I kissed her. Then I kissed my son.
My son.
Fuck biology. As far as I was concerned, this was my son, whether we shared DNA or not. I was here when he took his first breath, and he’d be my son until I took my last. I swallowed the lump that had crept into my throat and blinked back tears.
He’d been here less than ten minutes, and not only had he grabbed hold of my heart with that tiny fist, he’d turned me into a wuss.
“Name?” the nurse asked.
We had discussed it, but Rain wanted me to have the final say. I’d give her one last chance to change her mind, but without me even opening my mouth, she shook her head and gave me a tired smile. I didn’t even have to think about it.
“Zachary Storm Holgate.”
My son.
Chapter Fifty-Two
As far as deliveries go, Dr. Hart said everything went great. Even Rain said it was a lot easier than Izzy’s birth. But seeing her in so much pain and then pushing a tiny human out of her body nearly did me in.
It was still fucking amazing. I was officially a father, as of 3:12 that morning. I had a son, Zachery Storm Holgate. No hyphen. I chose Storm to be his middle name to honor her parents. I had no desire to honor my father, and despite how my mother had seemed to accept Rain and the pregnancy after a disastrous start at Christmas, she thrived on sowing seeds of doubt whenever we’d speak, which was becoming less and less often. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to call her.
I was exhausted, but ecstatic, and I didn’t want anything to ruin this day for me.
I checked my shirt pocket to make sure Rain’s ring was there. She’d worn it for all of about four hours yesterday. By the time we packed up and checked out of the hotel, then drove to the hospital, she had to take it off in case they needed to put her under anesthesia. As long as she’d be putting it back on. That’s all that mattered.
After Rain was back in her room and resting, she sent me home. I took a shower and then slept for a few hours. When I woke, I made all the necessary phone calls. The only reason I called my brother was to tell him I’d be taking the day off and all of next week because Rain had delivered our son. He congratulated me and I thanked him, but there was still an awful lot of damage between us that needed to be repaired.
Today wasn’t the day to think about any of that.
I climbed out of my truck, grabbed the flowers I’d picked up from the market—the brightest mixed bunch they had—and jogged across the parking lot, excited to see my future wife and my new son.
I couldn’t stop grinning, my heart was so full. From Rain not only finally agreeing to marry me, but actually attempting to propose—I laughed out loud at the thought of yesterday’s sunrise debacle—to Zac’s arrival, I hadn’t stopped smiling for the last twenty-four hours. It wouldn’t have surprised me if I’d been smiling in my sleep.
When the elevator reached the third floor, I hurried down the hall so fast I nearly ran into one of the nurses exiting Rain’s room.
“How’s she doing?” I asked, wishing she’d step aside and let me in.
“She fell asleep a little while ago. I think she expected you earlier.”
Damn it. “Yeah, I overslept. I guess yesterday caught up with me. Is the baby back in the nursery?”
She nodded. “He was fussy and kept her awake most of the night, so she agreed to let us take him for a while to give her a little break. I can bring him back if you want. I was just dropping off a delivery of flowers for her.”
She looked at the supermarket bunch I carried in my hand.
“Those are nice too.”
“Do you have something I can put these in? I wasn’t thinking when I picked them up.”
“I’m sure I can find something.”
When she finally moved out of the way, I entered the room. Rain was curled on her side, one hand tucked under her chin. It was amazing how much I’d missed her in such a short amount of time. With her and Izzy both out of the house, it had been too quiet.
The flowers the nurse had been talking about were sitting on a low shelf in front of the window. Roses. At least three dozen red roses, arranged in a deep red vase.
I set my paltry flowers on the tray table next to the bed, and although it was wrong, I tore the card from the arrangement and opened the envelope.
Congratulations. Can’t wait to meet him. Love you xxx ooo.
It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t matter. I knew who had sent them. I crushed the card in my hand and lifted the arrangement off the shelf. On my way out, I dropped my flowers into the water pitcher on the tray.
“Mr. Holgate,” the nurse called after me. “I found you a vase.”
I waved her off and kept walking until I reached the elevator. Outside the hospital, I dumped the roses in the first trash bin I came to.
Then I climbed in my truck, and I drove.
To be continued
It’s normal for books to go through revisions and rewrites, some more than others, and Miss February is no exception. In fact, she kind of kicked my ass. I honestly don’t know how I could have gotten through it all without my PA, Jenn Holter. Jenn helped me focus on what I needed to do and stay focused. She became my cheerleader, my coach, a hard taskmaster, and an honest reader who wasn’t afraid to tell me she if didn’t like something. She even sent me little exercises to help me breathe when I had myself so wound up that I couldn’t think straight.
I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, Jenn. Don’t ever leave me!
Andrew Biernat, thank you for your positive messages. While I was struggling to finish the rewrite, I told Andrew I needed motivation, and boy, did he pick up the ball and run with it. Andrew, you are sweet, and smart, and you have a big, beautiful heart. I can’t wait to see you on the cover of my book later this year.
Lori Ryser, what would I do without you? Like my previous books, Lori has been the very last set of eyes to scan and correct any errors or inconsistencies. If anyone finds a mistake, I guarantee it’s something I did after she looked at it.
Thank you to my line editor, Lisa Poisso. My books shine because of you. I’m so lucky to have found you.
To my son, Garrett, thank you for another great cover. I know I drove you crazy, but I love it. And to Lisa Hopstock and Marissa Miller, thank you for the time you put into the original cover. Even though we didn’t end up going that way, you guys did a wonderful job.
Kerry Palumbo, thank you for your friendship, your love, and your support. And thank you again for helping make my back cover copy stand out.
Jade Eby, thank you for your beautiful formatting and interior design of my books. I’m always thrilled once you’ve worked your magic.
Den
nis Massone, thank you for your expertise on everything from what Chase would be doing in the pits before a race, to what he’d wash his hands with, to the excitement of driving a modified stock car. I named the driver of No. 57 after you. Stephanie Harris and Stacy Mendoza, thank you for your help with my other car questions. That part of the story will appear in Mrs. February.
My dear friend Diane Lane Stone—like Dennis, I’ve known you since junior high school. You read this book when it was nothing but ideas and scattered, random chapters. You encouraged me to keep writing, so I did. Thank you. And thank you for inspiring Rain’s feisty best friend.
To one of my dearest friends, Ione Connolly. Thank you for driving me around the old neighborhoods so I could visit and photograph some of my old haunts which are used as settings in this book. Every time we’re together, I feel like I’m sixteen again. We need to do it more often.
To my lovely daughter-in-law, Olka Cimms, thank you for translating Irena’s words into Polish and helping make her a far more interesting character.
Thank you to my beta readers, Ann Travis and Lydia Fasteland. I can always count on you both to give me clear, detailed, honest feedback. And thanks to the very earliest readers, Tyra Hattersley and Rhonda Donaldson. You helped me take a hard look at where Miss February was going and change that direction.
Sandy Barg, you are amazing. You read and reread, and then read again. Not only that, you have championed me on Facebook, sharing teasers and connecting me with other authors. If I thanked you a thousand times, it still wouldn’t be enough.
Whitney Barbetti, you laugh when I call you my mentor, but seriously, you are my guiding star. If it weren’t for you, very few people would know my name or have read my books. Someday I’m going to hug you—super hard. Thank you a zillion times over for all you’ve done for me.
Jena Camp at Indie Girl Promotions, thank you for the fabulous teasers and graphics, and everything you’ve done for me as well, through this book and my last ones. You’re the best.
Nick Denmon, thank you again for your beautiful words and for allowing me to use them as my epigraph for Miss February. You touch my heart, always.
To the members of my fan group, the VIP Room, I love you guys. You’ve lifted me up when I needed it, made me laugh, gave me support, and we can’t forget Sandy’s “Good Morning” posts, (which help us all wake up with a smile!)
Thank you to all of the bloggers who have shared my work. Where would we indie authors be without you?
And lastly, to my husband, Jim. You put up with so much so that I can lock myself away in the attic and write. Thank you for everything you do for me. I would be lost without you.
Turn the page for an exclusive sneak peek of
MRS. FEBRUARY
Book two in Karen Cimms’ Calendar Girl duet
Due for release this this spring
It had been a long, wonderful day. The best day.
We’d had to be on the beach in time to start the ceremony at six o’clock sharp so that we could be pronounced husband and wife at exactly 6:13 a.m., just as the sun rose. That had been my crazy idea, but even three years later, the memory of Chase sharing the sunrise with me was still one of my favorites. Our family and friends may not have liked getting up that early, but Chase had loved the idea. And I loved him.
I’d made him wait long enough to accept his marriage proposal, and then even longer to finally set a date. When he told me his mother was wondering what we were waiting for, I was shocked. Finally, his family had accepted me. When I told him I wanted to get married at sunrise on the beach in Cape May, he insisted on August 15. We only had two weeks to plan, but we pulled it off.
And although we’d been living together for three years, after everyone headed home after the breakfast reception, we spent almost the entire day in our suite at the Grand, behaving exactly as newlyweds should.
I was exhausted—happy, but exhausted. We had an early dinner, and by the time we got back to our room, we could barely keep our eyes open.
So why was Chase waking me when it was still dark outside?
I growled and pulled the covers over my head.
“C’mon, babe. Wake up. It’s still our wedding day, and there’s one more thing we need to do.”
I forced an eye open. “Are you kidding me? We did that. A lot.”
Tugging at the covers, he laughed. “Not that. Something else. You need to get up and put your dress on.”
The bastard flicked the light on next to my head. The clock read 11:25.
“I’m tired. Can’t we do it in the morning?”
“No. It has to be tonight.”
I rolled onto my back and squinted up at him. He was already dressed and holding up my wedding gown.
“It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
“Cute? That’s all? Earlier you said I was handsome and sexy.” He pulled the covers off the rest of the way and lay my dress across the bed. “Now all I am is cute?”
“When I’ve been up since four in the morning, there are plenty of other names I’d like to call you, and none of them are ‘cute.’”
He chuckled. “Now, now.”
Grudgingly, I pushed myself up, wriggled to the edge of the bed, and held my arms up over my head. If he wanted me to get dressed, then he was going to have to get me there himself.
After dropping the dress over my head, he tugged me to my feet, spun me gently, and raised the zipper on the strapless gown.
I yawned loudly. “Where are we going?” If he expected me to put on makeup at this hour, he was going to be woefully disappointed.
“Not far.”
I located my strappy silver sandals in the corner of the room.
“Nope. Flip-flops are fine.”
Too tired to argue, I slipped my feet into the white rubber thongs I’d worn to the beach earlier.
We stepped off the elevator a few minutes later into a near-empty lobby. “I should just make you carry me. Then I could go back to sleep.”
“If you insist.” He scooped me up as if I weighed nothing and set out across the lobby toward the front doors.
“The parking lot is that way,” I said, pointing to the right, but he kept on walking.
We crossed Beach Avenue heading toward the ocean. The farther we got from the hotel, the darker it became. There was no moon, and the stars above us seemed endless. When we were as close to the surf as we could get, Chase set me down. He pulled a large beach towel from the tote he’d slung over his shoulder before we left, spread it out on the sand, and pulled his iPhone from the pocket of his chinos.
Moments later, the piano intro to “My Future Days” by Pearl Jam, his favorite band, filled the space around us.
Goosebumps sprang up along my arms. It could’ve been from the breeze blowing off the ocean, but I’d bet anything it was the romantic mood my new husband was creating in front of me. “What are you doing?”
“Shh.” He held out his arms, and I stepped into them. “I loved everything about today except one thing—we didn’t have a first dance. I didn’t want us to miss that.”
The air was cool against my skin, but inside, I was soft and warm and gooey as a toasted marshmallow. I circled my arms around his neck, and he pressed a palm against my lower back. I’d never felt happier or more content.
There on the beach of Cape May where we’d been married eighteen hours earlier, we danced in the dark—me in my wedding gown and Chase in his white shirt and chinos, serenaded by Eddie Vedder.
Life was perfect.
The song ended but we still moved together to the rhythm of the pounding surf, invisible to all but the stars winking at us overhead.
I lifted my head, wanting to tell Chase for at least the twentieth time that day how much I loved him, when a star shot across the sky.
“Oh my god! Did you see that?”
His low chuckle told me that in fact, he had.
Moments later, I saw another.
He led me to the towel he’d set out ear
lier and pulled me down beside him. When he lay down, I did the same, resting my head against his shoulder just as another star tracked across the heavens.
“When you said you wanted to be married here, I remembered an article I’d read about how bright the Perseids meteor shower would be this year because of the new moon,” he said. “I couldn’t control the weather, but at least I could set the stage. I wanted you to feel close to your father today, even though he wasn’t here to give you away.”
The sky above turned watery, and I blinked back the burn of the tears filling my eyes. I rolled over so I could see his face.
“My dad didn’t have to give me away, Chase. You already have my heart. I gave my whole self to you long ago. Today just made it official.” I pressed my hand into his. “But thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”
Another flash of light streaked across the sky.
My father had taught me all about the Perseids when I was a little girl. They got their name because they look like they’re flying out of the constellation Perseus, an ancient hero from Greek mythology. I knew we weren’t really seeing stars but bits of comet dust disintegrating in the earth’s atmosphere. I may not have been the best student, especially after Dad died, but I’ve never forgotten lying in the back yard with him, studying the constellations. And tonight, thanks to the wonderful man lying beside me, I felt closer to him than I had since he’d left us.
My eyes followed a speck of comet dust across the sky. I’d never seen so many shooting stars at one time. And that just confirmed it: I believed with all my heart that my father would have approved of my husband.
“I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but you’ve made this day even more special.” I waved my arm in a wide arc. “You’ve given me everything, from the sunrise to the all the stars in the heavens.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, his face hovering over mine. His hand skirted across my hips until he found my hand on the other side.
“Thank you for becoming my wife.” Soft, warm lips touched my forehead. “Just promise to love me forever, because that’s what I plan to do, Rain. Love you until the end of time.”
