“Neither of us is going to give up on this until you’re pregnant,” Zach reassures her.
“That’s right, we won’t rest until your belly is out to here”—I hold my hand way out in front of her—“and you’ve got a perfect little baby growing in there. Got it?”
Tears brim over Kelly’s bottom lids and stream down her cheeks as she nods. “Got it.” She smiles. “I love you guys so much.” She snuggles between us.
“I love you too,” Zach answers.
“We both do,” I chime in. “I love you with all my heart.” I let my eyes slide closed as she nestles against my chest.
The truth is, I’m not worried about making a baby. I feel it in my heart that this is all going to work out for us. I have no way of knowing that, except this feeling inside. As I lie back and hold Kelly between me and my best friend, I realize we’re all so lucky we found each other. If you would have asked me if I thought a relationship like this could work before I met Kelly I would’ve told you that you were crazy. But now, it’s crazy to imagine anything except this perfection.
Epilogue
Kelly
I look over at my pottery wheel and sigh wistfully. Ever since I started my third trimester, my belly has been too big to work around. There’s no way I’ll be able to work the clay up, like magic, from a lump to a beautiful vase or cup or bowl. Not until this little one is born. I rub my hand over my belly and feel a big kick against my palm.
The baby has been so active the last little while. I guess we’re both getting excited to meet each other. With only a couple of weeks to go until my due date, I’m practically counting down the seconds until I get to hold my baby in my arms.
Pottery can wait. I’m sure I’m not going to have much energy for slinging mud when I’m up all night with feedings and diaper changes. Even with three of us here, it will be a big change. It’s a small price to pay for having a newborn of my own.
I flick off the light switch to my studio and close the door. Walking across my boutique, I have an overwhelming sense of pride hit me as I realize just how far I’ve come in the past year. Almost three hundred and sixty-five days ago today, I was packing the last of my earthly belongings onto a moving truck and driving off into the great wide unknown.
Sure, I had dreams and even plans about how I was hoping to make all of this work, but I had no clue my life was about to become the beautiful chaos it did. Moving here, it literally changed my life. Now I’ve got Zach and Desi, two of the most attentive and protective dads-to-be. Every night they take turns rubbing oil on my big belly and rubbing my swollen feet. Every day they tell me how beautiful I am, and I can see in their eyes that they mean it.
I’ve also got my business. It was a risk to believe I could be so bold as to make my living off my art. Yet, a year later, it’s clearly the right decision. Sales have never been better than the boom I’ve been having these past few months. I’ll definitely be taking some time off after the baby is born, but I won’t be shutting down the store for too long. Word of mouth seems to be bringing new customers into this shop every day and I don’t want to miss out on that.
And then there’s the baby. I tenderly press my fingers into my stomach and smile down at my unborn child. It’s literally a dream come true that I’m going to be a mommy soon. This moment, giving birth, it’s something I’ve dreamed about for so long. It’s almost surreal that this is all working out for me like this. I guess, when you grow up with a father who pretty much hates you and calls you ugly and fat in drunken stupors, you don’t really envision yourself finding true happiness.
But here I am.
Truly happy.
I’m waddling as I walk across the store and go through the door that leads into my house. Being so late in my third term of pregnancy has really thrown me off balance. I don’t walk the same. I can’t sleep the same. I even have to sit down and get up out of chairs differently. All the things I used to take for granted, like tying my shoelaces, have become impossible.
And I don’t mind one bit.
Every single time I’ve hit some kind of milestone that most women complain about, like needing a hand to stand up or my feet swelling up like balloons by the end of the day, I’ve taken it in stride. None of it matters. None of it is permanent. All I care about is giving birth to a happy, healthy baby.
Smiling, I make my way to the kitchen to make myself a little snack. Lately I’ve been really digging fried egg sandwiches with peanut butter. It’s basically just like if you made yourself some toast with peanut butter spread over it and then slapped a fried egg between the slices and ate it like a sandwich. The guys always look at me with crinkled noses and judgment when they see me cooking one up, but they don’t know what they’re missing.
I pull the frying pan out from under the cupboard when a ripple of pain trembles over the surface of my belly. It’s minor, but it makes me pause and take notice. All of a sudden, a deep, twisting pain, like my muscles are tearing inside makes me drop the pan on the floor and double over.
Gasping for breath, I fall to my hands and knees and become prisoner of an intense pain I’ve never felt before. It’s so fast and so overwhelming, I know right away I need to get help.
As soon as it subsides, I get my breathing back under control and quickly slide into my Crocs and walk over to the station. Desi and Zach are going to be on opposite shifts once the baby is born so I’ll always have one of them here with me to help me out. However, right now they’re still fire team partners.
I make it just out to the front step when another crippling, wrenching ache makes me cling onto the door handle for dear life and struggle to breathe. I thought contractions were supposed to creep up slowly. That they built up over time, each one becoming a bit more powerful than the last until it was time to push. These feel like someone has tied my stomach muscles around a pipe and they’re twisting it up until the fibers are so tight they might just shear off.
Somehow, I manage to keep my feet under me and I try so hard to breathe through it like I learned in prenatal class, but it’s next to impossible. When the pain passes, I hurry over to the firehouse, panicky that another contraction will hit and I’ll fall to the ground.
“What’s up, gorgeous?” Zach sees me first and gives me a boyish grin.
I can’t return his smile. Not when I know another wave of intolerable agony is going to hit soon.
“What’s wrong?” Desi stops cleaning the truck and jogs over to my side as soon as he lays eyes on my face.
“I think the baby is coming.” I grimace and another sensation assaults my body. My pants feel wet and I look down in horror as I realize I’ve pissed myself. No, wait, that darkening stain soaking into my pants isn’t urine, it’s my water breaking. It’s very warm and very wet. I look up at the guys. “We need to go. Now.”
Epilogue
Desmond
“Hit the siren. Let’s go,” I bark at Zach and he pulls the fire engine out of the parking lot.
I’m facing Kelly and trying to stay calm and help her through this. She’s got a tight grip on my hand as she’s hunched over and screaming in pain with her latest contraction. They’re coming so quickly now, I’m worried we won’t make it in time.
The siren slices through the air and Zach sails down the street as the other vehicles pull over and get out of the way. We’ll probably get shit for getting Kelly to the hospital this way, but so be it.
“Desi, the baby,” Kelly pants. Her eyes are squeezed into tiny slits as her face contorts. “There’s no time. It’s coming. It’s coming now,” she manages to puff out her sentence.
“We’re almost there, babe. You can do this. We’ll get to the hospital and they’ll rush you right in. Just be strong and hang on for me, okay? You’ll be meeting our child so soon now.” I try to keep her present and focused.
“We’re not going to make it to the hospital.” She grimaces. Kelly reaches down the front of her pants, between her legs. “Desi, I can feel the head. The baby, it’s
crowning now. I can’t stop it.” Her voice is a high-pitched squeal of panic.
“What? No. No, the baby can’t be crowning already.”
She grabs my hand and shoves it down her pants, guiding my fingertips to her mound. Sure enough, I can feel the lips have spread open and the top of the head is pushing through.
“Fuck!” My heart practically thumps out of my chest, but I’ve gotta keep my cool. There’s no way I can expect to keep Kelly calm if I’m spinning out of control. “Zach, you need to pull over right now, man. This baby is coming out!”
“We’re there, just hang on,” he yells back and I see he’s pulling into the hospital parking lot.
As soon as he throws the truck into park, Kelly slides down and I pull off her pants. What I was feeling is right. The baby’s head is almost out already. I need to act fast.
“Zach, go get help inside. I’ll stay with Kelly,” I bellow.
He jumps out of the truck and I try to lay Kelly’s pants under her so if the baby does come out it’s not going to end up on the dirty floor.
“Hold on, Kelly. Just breathe, sweetheart. You can do this. The nurses are on their way right now.”
Her face twists up and turns beet red. “I can’t. It’s coming now,” she yelps as her agony comes out as a long, painful yowl. Kelly is squatting and propping herself up by her elbows on one of the side facing seats. I see the baby’s head slide out and I cradle it. I’ve never held any baby before, let alone given birth to one. However, I’ve had plenty of first aid training and luckily this is one of the things we prepare for. Kelly pushes again and the shoulder slips free, then the other one. Before I know it, I’m holding a pale, bluish little girl in my hands and Kelly is sobbing uncontrollably.
“Where is she?” I can hear the commotion outside as Zach leads the medical staff to us. It takes a lot of maneuvering, but they manage to extract her from the truck with the baby still attached by the umbilical cord. They get her laid out on the stretcher with our girl, our newborn daughter on her breast and wheel her inside.
Zach and I rush inside with them, following them down the halls to the emergency room, but they stop us.
“You have to wait, guys. We’ll take it from here.” A nurse with dark circles under her eyes and age spots across her forehead points to the waiting room. “We’ll come get you when we’re done.”
I don’t want to listen to her. I want to bust into the room and be there as they check over Kelly and our child. However, I know what it’s like when people let their emotions get the better of them and they don’t listen. Suddenly you have brothers running into burning buildings to look for their siblings. Suddenly a bad situation becomes deadly.
“Let’s go.” I lead Zach down the hall.
“But she needs us. We can’t just sit in the fucking waiting room,” Zach complains.
“Then stand. I said let’s go.” I grab his arm and walk him down there.
We decide to call the guys at the station and have someone pick up the truck. It turns out the chief isn’t angry with us. He’s just worried.
We all are.
“Mr. Peterson? And Mr. Connors?”
We both hastily turn toward the voice calling us.
It’s the stern nurse who sent us down here.
“Yes?” Zach answers.
“She can see you now.” She nods at us.
I want to break out into a sprint and lunge down the hallway, but instead I follow the nurse to the room. Zach and I practically get stuck in the doorframe as we both try to step inside at the exact same time. We manage to get our wits about us and walk inside in an orderly manner.
The nurse pulls back the curtain surrounding the bed and relief floods my heart. Kelly smiles up at us, tears streaming down her face as our newborn baby feeds from her breast.
“It’s a girl,” she sobs happily.
“I know.” I run my hand over her hair.
“Well, you could’ve told me.” Zach huffs. With one look at our daughter, he deflates and lets it go. “She’s beautiful,” he whispers.
“Just like her mama.” I smile at Kelly.
“Have you decided on a name?” The nurse hovers around the edges of the bed, checking the vitals for Kelly and our new girl.
Kelly looks at me and then Zach and then over at the nurse. “Yes. Her name is Emma. After my mother.” She looks down and kisses Emma’s little head.
“Perfect.” Tears slide down my cheeks. I can’t help being so emotional. It’s not every day the woman of your dreams gives birth in the back of a firetruck to your little girl. As I look down at Kelly and Emma I know it doesn’t matter what happens in this world. Because Zach and I, we’re already the luckiest men alive.
*****
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*****
THE END
The Beauty’s Beast
Full Length Bonus Novel
Synopsis:
In Hollywood everyone dreams about the fairytale ending. But I’m not promising her happily ever after. Just one night with the beast.
Gabe
You know what’s f*@#ing ironic? They used to call me Gabe the Babe.
Of course, that was before an IED blew half my face off.
Now my scars are all anyone can see. Unless I’m prowling the floors of an LA sex club.
When I walk in there, barely dressed, women aren’t looking at my face. Not when I’m packing a python like this.
I thought I had it all figured out. Meaningless sex, no strings, no pitying looks…
But then I saw her. With her innocent doe eyes, her plump lips and her breakneck curves… I know one night could never be enough. Hell, one lifetime seems too short.
Vanessa
I can’t believe I just landed the role of a lifetime. Every actress dreams of her big break and my star is on the rise. It’s a dream come true.
I’ll be playing a nymphomaniac in the blockbuster of the year. There’s only one problem: I’ve never had an orgasm.
Ever.
Not even one.
So now I’m in a sex club trying to research my role when I run into the sexiest beast I’ve ever seen.
Literally.
All of a sudden I’m thinking of doing a different kind of research.
With him. Between the sheets. Naked.
1|Gabe
I know a lot of guys like to get pumped up before they come to places like this, and I don’t mean they give themselves a pep talk in the mirror. I mean, what do I know? They could be jerking their cocks in the mirror, that might be their thing.
I’m not judging.
When they come to a sex club, they want the goods to look as big, as eye-catching, and hopefully as mouth-watering as possible. After all, if we’re going to be walking around in our tighty-whities, they want to make sure they have something to fill them up with.
That’s not my game. I don’t need to give myself a painful set of blue balls before I show up. My confidence might have been shaken when they pieced me back together after our Humvee hit an improvised explosive device overseas, but no one is looking at my sewn together face when they see what I’m packing.
I walk past the familiar faces crowding the different parts of the club. As I strut by, I glaze over the usual bunch of women out tonight. My white, almost translucent, underwear reflects the lighting in each area as I walk through. They glow an eerie purple and the ridge of my cock’s helmet and all the veins seem to pop as I make my way through the seated section under black light where women are taking things slow, engaging in the art of seduction, dragging it all out. The walls flash in erratic shades of gray and white as I look like I’m choppily hopping over the floor under the strobe lights on the edge of the dance floor where some women are already completely naked and having their bodies sucked, licked, squeezed and teased by more than one guy.
I take a look as I p
ass them, but seeing them exposed like that, it just doesn’t have the same effect. I’ve been doing this circuit for over half a year now, and I’ve met all the women who come here. I’m not sure what I’m looking for anymore. When I first showed up, it was obvious, I just wanted to feel wanted again. I wanted someone to look at my body, at my fat cock, and give me a chance for the night. No conversations about the military. No pitying glances at my scars. No discussions about how many surgeries it took to put me back together. Just pure passion. It gave me nights where I could feel normal again. It took stripping off almost all of my clothes to feel less naked and less vulnerable than my deep scars down the side of my eye make me feel in the day.
I stop at the bar and Mitch nods at me. He finishes mixing some girly cocktails and hands them off to a couple of ladies wearing leather bodysuits with holes for their tits to peek out. They wrap their arms around each other and hold their pink drinks in their free hands, walking off toward the dance floor. I’ve met that duo before, they’re broken.
All the women I’ve met in places like this are. They might not have the same physical scars I do, but when I’ve gotten to know them, when they’ve spent the night here drinking and getting fucked, I’ve heard the sad stories. Sure, I’ve seen the girls who come out just because they’re in Los Angeles and they want to have a crazy story to tell their friends back in Wisconsin when they get back from their vacation. But the regulars, the ones I see every single time I’ve been here, they’re just as damaged as I am.
Mitch walks to my end of the bar, his eyes shamelessly travel over my body, just like he always does. I don’t mind that he flirts with me or checks me out. He knows that I’m here for the women and he’s always respected that. I’m putting my cock out on display, if he wants to soak it in, I don’t really care. Besides, he always mixes me doubles, on the house. It must be how chicks feel when they go out for the night and just have to suggestively smile and have ten guys falling all over themselves to buy their drinks.
Shared by the Firefighters: An MFM Firefighter Novella Page 10
