Knocked Up

by Stacey Lynn

  Like crazy cranky. The fact she still has her sense of humor is miraculous at this point.

  “He’ll come when he’s ready.”

  “I hate it when you say that. What if he never wants to come?”

  “He will. Soon.” I slowly slide out of her, helping her roll to her left side, and trail my lips down the side of her body, kissing everywhere I can reach down to the curve of her hips before I move off the bed. “Stay here. I’ll clean you up.”

  She hums a satisfied sound and I move to the bathroom. After a quick cleanup of myself, I come back with a warm washcloth and clean Cara up before I climb into the bed behind her.

  Her hand is on her stomach, and as she turns to me to kiss me, her lips are twisted in a slight grimace.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she says. But her features tighten. “That must have just brought on another contraction. My stomach is as hard as a ball.”

  I feel it for myself, her entire stomach tight and hard. Another Braxton-Hicks. They’re driving us both insane. Every time she gets one I think it’s time to go and grab the bag. To which Cara slaps my hand and tells me to chill out.

  “We have the Halloween party tonight with Dan and Jenna. Do you want to skip it?”

  “No. I’ll be more miserable sitting around here doing nothing.”

  Her call. These days she’s pretty miserable out and about just as much as she is at home. Luca got so tired of her snapping at customers he told her last week to start her maternity leave early and not return until she’s normal again.

  It took everything I had not to laugh in her face when she demanded, “Can you believe he said that to me?”

  “Whatever you want, honey.”

  I kiss her cheek again and move to roll away from her but she grabs my arm and holds on tight. “Braxton?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know I love you, right? Even when I’m losing my mind and being bitchy, you know I love you, don’t you?”

  Her eyes hold a hint of fear, something I haven’t seen in her. Cara’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. It undoes me as much as it helps me.

  It’s nice to know I’m not the only one losing my mind these days.

  “Of course I do. And I love you just as much.”

  “Good. I should shower.”

  “Want help?” I’ve used the excuse it’s hard for her to bend over more than once to help her in the shower. Which usually leads to more pleasurable activities than washing her back.

  She smiles at me, that soft, serene look in her eyes appearing that’s been there pretty much since we found out we’re having a boy. It was as if the reassurance on the ultrasound that the baby isn’t only real but is completely healthy transformed her into a woman completely at peace with her life.

  “Yeah.”

  I get her up, biting my lip as she groans as she stands, her hand clasped in mine and one hand holding up her belly, and then we head to the shower, where we go for a second round of our midwife’s helpful instructions.

  I’m in the closet afterward, throwing on a thermal long-sleeved shirt, my hair still wet from the shower, when Cara walks in behind me.

  “Braxton?”

  Her tone catches me off guard and I turn to look at her, still naked from the shower, but her makeup is done and her hair is dried, hanging down and covering her breasts.

  Her hands on her stomach, her face scrunched.

  “What is it?” I’m already moving toward her.

  “I don’t think we can go to the party anymore.”

  “Why?” I cup her cheek. “Not feeling well?”

  “No. But.” Her chin wobbles and I glance down at her stomach. “It’s more than that. I think my water just broke. “

  Then she smiles. Broad and happy and a little bit dopey and she shrugs. “I think we’re having a baby.”

  * * *

  —

  “Holy shit,” I murmur. I can’t peel my eyes off him.

  So damn tiny, the weight of him in my arms so damn huge even if he’s only eight pounds and one ounce. Once Cara’s water broke, her contractions started quickly after. We called Pam, who met us at the hospital a mere six hours ago.

  We were settled in a room, strapped up to a heart monitor, and once her contractions became more difficult, Cara was given an epidural.

  Two hours later she was pushing, and four pushes later, James Irvin Henley was born.

  Nothing has prepared me for the heavy sensation in my chest and gut and the weight of the world and responsibility on my shoulders while I hold my little guy in my arms for the first time.

  Cara’s voice is tired but content as she brushes her finger over his hairline on his scrunched-up and wrinkly forehead. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he? I can’t stop staring at him.”

  Neither of us has taken our eyes off him, except for when we lost ourselves, kissing each other like crazy as soon as he came out and Pam and the nurses were doing what they needed to do. But as soon as they placed him in my arms and I settled right next to Cara in the bed, we’ve only had eyes for our son.

  “He’s perfect.”

  A knock comes on our door and a nurse, Becky, peeks her head around the curtain. “You have visitors. Want me to send them back?”

  “I’m not sure Jenna will stay away,” Cara says, smiling up at me. “We should let them in.”

  “I don’t want to share him.” She laughs, and I know I’m pouting. Calling Dan and Jenna was a mistake. They then called Stella and Graham, and everyone met us at the hospital, which means they’ve been here for hours, hanging out in the waiting room. For a while I thought Jenna would shove me out of the room just so she could be here when our baby was born instead of me, she’s so damn excited for us.

  “We’ll have him forever, you know,” Cara says, and her eyes are glistening with a happiness I can’t even describe, it’s simply otherworldly.

  “We will,” I assure her. Because we have us. The three of us, and hopefully more, forever. “We’re getting married as soon as we can. I don’t care where or how, but you’re taking my name.”

  She nods. We haven’t talked much about wedding planning mostly because Cara insisted she didn’t want wedding photos of her while she was pregnant. I haven’t pushed it, but I want us to all have the same name. My name. Our family’s name.

  Reluctantly, I hand James back to Cara and kiss her slowly. “I’ll go get everyone. Do you want me to call anyone else?”

  She presses her lips together and shakes her head. She hasn’t spoken to her parents for months. She made one phone call to them after they tried to force her into a marriage with Graham, letting them know they’d gone too far. That they’re welcome to be a part of her life when they can accept her for who she is, and want to know their grandchild, but since then we’ve heard nothing.

  “Only Luca. He’ll want to know.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. James doesn’t need them until they can be decent.”

  I hate that she still looks conflicted, something she tries to hide from me, but it’s her call. “Okay, honey. I’ll go get the rest of the family then.”

  Our friends have become our family. Graham and Luca come over frequently for dinners. Graham has passed his bar exam and started working at his dad’s law firm and is currently single. Luca goes through men like water, and while there’s nothing between them other than friendship, they’ve become quite close. It’s helped Graham to be more comfortable after coming out to be introduced to Luca and many of his friends in the gay community, especially since his parents still refuse to believe him. Jenna and Dan have declared themselves our son’s aunt and uncle, as well as Stella and Robbie. The four of them are fighting for recognition as godparents, seeming to forget they’
ll all help us with raising James.

  It’s a mishmash of people and personalities and lifestyles, and it’s wild and crazy and more than a bit bonkers sometimes, but it’s also perfect.

  Until today—which takes happiness to inexplicable heights—I’ve never been happier, and Cara isn’t shy in sharing the same.

  She grins then, wide and soft, and kisses James’s forehead. “I’ll be here.”

  “I will too.” I kiss her, then James, and smile back at Cara. “I will always be here.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a moment, Braxton. It’s one of the many reasons why I love you so much.”

  “I love you too. Forever.”

  I head out to the waiting room, practically trampled by the rush of our friends to get to Cara and James, and while they all crowd into our room, me pushed to the side for a moment, I take another look around at the life we’ve created.

  It’s perfect. It’s beautiful. And it will only continue to get better because we’re just getting started.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you so much for purchasing and reading Knocked Up.

  If you’d like to be notified whenever I have something important to share, like a new release, sale, or cover reveal for my upcoming books, please visit my website, staceylynnbooks.com and subscribe to my newsletter.

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  Thank you again, and please don’t forget the value of leaving a review on the retailer you purchased this book from or Goodreads.

  Acknowledgments

  First, thank you to all my readers who have supported my work for over four years now. I couldn’t continue to chase my dreams without your encouragement. I’m so thankful for each and every one of you who have contacted me through the years, letting me know how much my words mean to you.

  I have the best team behind me, helping me with every project, and I’m so grateful to all of you.

  Thank you, Sue and Michelle, for always being so excited and helpful with my ideas and early drafts.

  To Shannon and Hilary, I love you both tremendously. Your work and assistance and hand-holding keep me sane and focused. To Lisa and Heather, who read early copies—as always I love your willingness to rip apart my books only to help make them better. Your input is invaluable.

  To all the bloggers who review and promote: Thank you!

  And finally, to my family. You’ve been so full of love and support ever since the first day I said, “I think I want to write a book.” You have faith when I’m lacking, encouragement when I need it the most, and a listening ear that is always available for brainstorming help. I love you, forever, and to the moon and back.

  BY STACEY LYNN

  Crazy Love

  Fake Wife

  Knocked Up

  Fireside

  His to Love

  His to Protect

  His to Cherish

  His to Seduce

  PHOTO: MAE I DESIGN AND PHOTOGRAPHY

  STACEY LYNN was raised in the Midwest. Over the long, frigid winters, she would read every book she could get her hands on, from John Grisham and Danielle Steel to Ann M. Martin and C. S. Lewis. She began writing poems and short stories long before she reached high school, and now, as a wife and mother to four children, she finds solace from the craziness of her life by creating steamy, sexy stories. After publishing her first book, what began as a hobby has now turned into an unending passion.

  For more information on Stacey Lynn and her books, follow her here:

  staceylynnbooks.com

  Facebook.com/​staceylynnbooks

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  Read on for an excerpt from

  Fake Wife

  by Stacey Lynn

  Available from Loveswept

  Chapter 1

  EARLIER THAT DAY

  Teagan

  I brush my hand down Drake’s cheek and kiss his temple. “Good morning, did you get in late?”

  My boyfriend grunts and rolls over, throwing one arm over his eyes. “Fifteen-hour shifts are killing me,” he mumbles. “Have to go back this afternoon.”

  “Okay, honey.” I kiss him again, wishing we had the time or the energy to take it further. It’s been so long since we’ve been intimate I’ve forgotten what sex with Drake feels like. It’s understandable, though. His residency at Portland General keeps him incredibly busy. “I have to go to work. Have a good day.”

  He mumbles again and rolls to his side, away from me.

  I stand from his side of the bed and pull my purse to my shoulder.

  Drake is the first long-term boyfriend I’ve had. We met our junior year of college, and for the last seven years, I’ve been following him all over the country while he completed medical school and now his internal medicine residency. I would have thought by now we’d be married and living the life he’s continually promised to give me. With each year that passes, I’m beginning to think his promises have been more of a carrot dangled in front of me.

  At some point, our plans and our dreams we used to whisper about, bodies entwined after a marathon lovemaking session, have been pushed to the back burner. At least on Drake’s. I still want all the things I always have. A husband, a family, and an equine therapy farm for special-needs children.

  “I love you,” I whisper to his back, sculpted and lean, and one I used to spend hours running my hands down. It’s been months since we came together. It’s more than the lack of sex putting distance between us. I’m starting to doubt if he still loves me.

  Before I can cry over our messed-up relationship again, I head toward the kitchen. I quickly shove my bagel into the toaster, grab a coffee pod, and pop it into the machine. While the coffee is brewing and the bagel browning, I dig through my purse and apply a fresh coat of lip balm. It’ll come off in minutes, but I’m addicted to the old-school, cherry-flavored stuff.

  A quick glance at the clocks tells me I need to get the lead out or I’m going to be late to the library where I work. It’s not much of a job, but I didn’t finish college, choosing instead to quit after my junior year and follow Drake to med school in Chicago, fourteen hours from my hometown in Tennessee. I’m not exactly qualified to do much other than stack shelves, issue new library cards, help visitors, and ride horses.

  The last one has nothing to do with the library, but it’s been years since I’ve been on a horse, and the more time that passes, the more I miss them. After my parents died, my grandma took me in. She wasn’t the most loving woman, but she lived on a horse ranch in western Tennessee. I spent the majority of my days riding horses and taking care of them, and ever since I moved away I’ve missed having horses be a part of my life.

  Shaking off my morose mood, I make a plan for the weekend. It’s Friday and I’ll be home from work just before five. If I hurry, I can throw on a sexy dress, grab takeout, and surprise Drake at the hospital for dinner and perhaps a quickie in the doctors’ break room like we used to do.

  Perhaps we’ve been together so long we’re in a rut. That’s all it is. His hours are long and exhausting and more stressful than anything I can imagine. Perhaps he needs some early night stress relief in a form only I can provide.

  A smile stretches my lips and I pour coffee into my travel mug.

  Yep. That’s what I’ll do. Work, hospital, a quickie where I please may man and show him we still got it, and then home to rest.

  * * *

  —

  My hands tremble and my chin quivers, but I can’t stop the emotions from threatening to overwhelm me.

  “Pardon me?” I ask William Tanner, Portland Central Library’s operati
onal director.

  “I hate having to say this to you, Teagan. It’s simply that funding has been cut and the last levy didn’t pass in the election. We no longer have the resources to employ four assistants, and unfortunately, you were the last person hired. It’s nothing personal. We all admire the work you’ve put in to the library over the last few years. And you know how much I adore you.”

  Nothing personal.

  Firing someone is absolutely personal—at least for the person who now faces the weekend with the stress of looking for a job.

  “William—” I start, but he covers my hand with his and stops me.

  “Please, Teagan. You’ve been given four weeks’ severance, more than one week for each year you’ve been with us. It’s generous, and it’s also all we have. We’ve tried fighting this, but our hands are tied. When Shelly from HR told me this was going to happen, I insisted I be the one to tell you. I’m truly sorry.”

  I know he is. William is more than a boss. He’s kind and generous and has a beautiful wife. Mary could never conceive and they decided against adoption, but they’d be the best parents in the world. He’s also been the director of this central location of Portland’s mass library system for fifteen years, and I know he cares about me.

  It doesn’t erase the sting any.

  “Okay,” I mumble, fighting back another chin quiver. “Thank you for everything.”

  He squeezes my hand. “Thank you, Teagan. Take care, and if you’d like, please keep in touch. Mary will miss you if you don’t.”

  I press my lips together and tug my hand from his grip. His wife is one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met and I have no doubt he’s being honest. In the three years since I’ve worked here, I’ve spent countless holiday meals with their family, Drake joining me when he hasn’t had to work. They’ve become more like parents to me since I’ve moved to Portland.