In Deep

by Brenda Rothert

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was maddening. Nothing I did took my mind off the fact that she was with him right now.

  I got up and paced back and forth from kitchen to living room. Two of the girls were up in their rooms and two were out. I had no distractions. Nothing but my imagination to keep me company until April got home.

  What if she walked in with her clothes messed up? But April didn’t seem like the kind of woman who slept with a man on the first date. She was better than that.

  To keep from losing my mind, I decided to do push-ups. Physical exertion would be good for me. I got down on the living room rug and started, counting them out loud. I’d just finished number forty-seven when I heard a car engine in the driveway. I looked up at the window and saw headlights flashing through the cracks of the wood blinds.

  About fucking time.

  From my spot in the living room that overlooked the porch, I could see through the sidelights on the front door that she was coming in. Her clothes were all in place. She had her hand on the handle and she seemed to be saying goodbye to Danny.

  That’s right. Get the hell in here, April.

  And then he leaned in and kissed her, his mouth on hers before I even realized it was happening.

  Oh, hell no. She was not letting Danny Sanders kiss her. I wanted to pound on the window and make him stop. Or put my fist through it so I could wrap my hand around his throat.

  She turned and let her hair fall over her face, then opened the door handle and pushed the door open. I backed away.

  That wasn’t a kiss. What we’d shared a few days ago—a tangle of heat and hands and tongues and desire—that was a kiss. And if she didn’t realize the difference, I was damn well going to show her.

  I STEPPED IN THE house, closed the door and buried my face in my hands. That had been the most awkward kiss ever. I’d clamped my lips shut to avoid Dan’s tongue, which was surprisingly strong. We’d had an okay dinner, but I’d found my thoughts wandering to Mason far too much to think I’d want a second date with Dan.

  This was definitely an occasion for ice cream. I turned the corner to head into the kitchen but stopped when I saw Mason standing in the center of the living room, arms folded across his chest, a scowl lining his face.

  “Hi,” I said, setting my purse on a side table. “You’re up.”

  “How was your date?” His tone was measured, belying any frustration.

  “Fine.”

  “Why’d you let him kiss you? What the hell was that, anyway? He stuck his ass out and looked like a goddamned fish with his lips pursed like that.”

  “You were watching?” My cheeks warmed at the thought.

  “I was sitting in here and the porch light was on,” he practically growled. “How could I miss it?”

  I sighed and pulled off the scarf I wore loose around my neck. “Dan’s a nice guy.”

  Mason stalked toward me, his eyes dark. If I didn’t know him so well, I would’ve been scared by the intensity of his expression.

  “Does he get you going?” he asked in a low tone.

  I took a step back and felt the wall behind me. My heart was hammering. I was intimidated by Mason’s show of aggression, and surprisingly, I liked it. A lot.

  “Does he . . . ?” I fumbled for words as Mason pressed his palms to the wall on either side of me and leaned closer.

  “Get. You. Going. You know, make you hot? Turn you on? Soak your panties?”

  My lips parted and the exhale that escaped was a mix of shock and excitement. No man had ever spoken to me this way, or looked at me with the hunger that swirled in Mason’s dark brown eyes right now.

  “No,” I said, the word barely audible.

  He leaned so close I felt his warm breath on my lips. “But I do. And you get me going, too, April.”

  “Me?” The question was half disbelief, half desire to hear more.

  He closed the last inch between us and kissed me, his warm lips brushing over mine tenderly for a few seconds before he tugged my lower lip between his teeth, groaning. I felt the kiss in every nerve ending, my body surging with sensation.

  Mason was strong and sure. Borderline cocky. Always in control.

  But not now. Now he was cupping my neck and kissing me deeply, his tongue a welcome invasion. When he took my hand and pressed it between his legs, I gasped as I felt his thick, hard erection pressing against the fabric of his jeans.

  “You,” he said against my lips. “You, April. You’re the one who does this to me.”

  His raspy tone made me dizzy. Me. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Me. I did this to him.

  Instinctively, I wrapped my fingers around his erection. I wanted more, and I got it when he groaned deeply and wove his fingers up from my neckline into my hair and tugged.

  “I want you,” he said, sliding his other hand up the bottom of my shirt, not stopping until he was cupping one of my breasts. “I want you so fucking bad it scares me.”

  His words set my body on fire. But there was more. My heart reveled in this feeling, wanting it to be more than physical. Needing it to be more.

  But this felt so good. Was it so bad if it was just physical?

  I wrapped my arms around his back and hooked a leg around his hip, pressing myself against him.

  “This feels so good,” I said. “You feel so good, Mason.”

  “This is just the beginning.” He bent down and kissed my throat, the brush of his soft beard on my exposed skin making me moan. “Let me take you to bed and show you the rest.”

  He hiked me up and wrapped his arms around me, kissing me with a passion that had to mean something. It had to. Maybe Mason was a man who showed his feelings rather than talking about them.

  I wanted to know he felt something, but we could talk later. I wasn’t about to stop things now. We were wrapped together, and he was warm, and hard, and he wanted me. In this moment, I needed to just feel.

  “Yes,” I murmured. “Bed.”

  He kissed me tenderly, walking across the living room with me still wrapped around him. I ran my hands down the lines of his broad back, stopping suddenly when I heard a sound.

  “What’s that?” I whispered, pulling my face back.

  “Nothing, baby.”

  But I heard it again, and then again. It was the sound of feet coming down the stairs, and I scrambled off of Mason and ran my hands over my hair.

  At the sound of a moan of discomfort, I bolted through the living room to the bottom of the staircase that led to the second floor. Erica was there, hunched over and clutching the banister.

  “I’m right here,” I said softly. “Are you having contractions?”

  “It’s hurting really bad,” she said, her voice strained. “Am I in labor?”

  “You very well may be.” I wrapped an arm around her back and brushed back the hair that hung over her face. “Tell me when the pain stops.”

  “It’s not as bad now,” she said, standing up.

  “Everything okay?” Mason asked. His darkened silhouette was next to me, his hair sticking up and his clothes disheveled.

  “I need to take Erica to the hospital,” I said.

  “Let me drive you.”

  “No, you need to stay with the other girls. I’ve got this.” I looked at Erica, who was dressed in a nightgown. “Do you want to get dressed or just put my coat on?”

  “No coat,” she said. “Can I just go like this? When it hurts, it hurts so bad.”

  I looked up at Mason. “Can you help me get her to the car?”

  “Sure.” He bent and wrapped an arm around Erica’s waist, supporting her as she slowly walked toward the door. I grabbed my purse from the table and fumbled through it for my keys. Once we got outside, Mason held on until Erica had gingerly lowered herself into the passenger seat of my car.

  “Good to go,” she said, panting and cringing as another contraction hit.

  Mason squeezed my hand. “I’ll call Ivy,” he said. “She can come here and I’ll meet you at th
e hospital.”

  I squeezed his hand back and smiled. “She’ll want to meet me at the hospital.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  He opened my car door and I slid into the driver’s seat. He bent down next to me and looked at Erica.

  “You got this, Erica,” he said. “You’re gonna do great.”

  Then he laid a hand on my thigh and patted it. “Call me, okay? Whatever time. I’ll be waiting.”

  “I will.”

  He stood and closed my door. I glanced at Erica and gave her a reassuring smile.

  “We’ll be there in less than ten minutes, sweetie,” I said. “Hang in there.”

  She said nothing, her deep, rhythmic breathing the only sound in the car until I was slowing to make the turn by the lighted sign for the Lovely Hospital Emergency Room.

  “Oooohh, God that hurts!” Erica said, gritting her teeth.

  I pulled under the portico that sheltered the entrance to the ER, parking and scrambling around the car to help Erica out.

  “Miss Byerly?” a man in scrubs asked, pushing a wheelchair to the car.

  “That’s me,” I said, giving him a confused look.

  “Mr. Lockhart called. This wheelchair is for the patient. I’m a nurse.”

  “Oh . . . that’s good. Thank you.”

  I opened the car door and stood by as the nurse helped Erica into the chair.

  “I’ll just park and be right in,” I said, squeezing Erica’s hand.

  “No.” She gripped my fingers hard. “Please don’t leave me, April.”

  I looked over my shoulder at my car.

  “We’ll get it parked,” the nurse said. “You can stay with her.”

  I gave him a grateful look and kept hold of Erica’s hand as we walked through the huge, automatic double doors that opened into the brightly lit Emergency Room.

  “Remember what you learned in the videos we watched,” I said, glad I’d insisted all the girls learn about Lamaze. “Breathe in through—”

  “I’m scared!” She squeezed her eyes shut and tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Will you stay with me the whole time? Please? Until I tell you it’s okay to go?”

  “Yes. I’m here, Erica, and I won’t leave until you tell me you want me to.”

  We rode an elevator up to the OB floor, where nurses made quick work of getting Erica changed into a gown and moved into a delivery room. Her contractions were coming every two or three minutes and she was covered in sweat by the time her IV started delivering pain medication.

  A hand touched my shoulder and I turned to see Ivy, still beautiful with no makeup and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. I covered her hand with mine, grateful she was here.

  “Just tell me if there’s anything you need, Erica,” she said softly. “I’ll try not to pester you, but I’m here if you need me.”

  Erica smiled for a second before her face contorted with pain. “Ahhhh . . . it hurts.”

  “That medicine just takes the edge off,” a nurse said. “And it may not have kicked in yet. Doctor’s on her way in to check you, okay? She’s going to see how dilated your cervix is.”

  The doctor made her way in, greeted everyone, and put her hands on Erica’s knees. Erica’s eyes flew to mine and I saw her unspoken fear.

  “Just look at me,” I said, taking one of her hands in both of mine. “Everything’s okay, sweetie.”

  “I want my mom,” she cried. Her plea broke my heart.

  “Ivy can call her,” I said, brushing the sweat-soaked hair back from her forehead.

  “She won’t come. She kicked me out when I got pregnant.”

  “I bet she’ll want to know,” I said. “Sometimes once the dust settles, feelings change.”

  “Maybe . . . if Ivy could call,” she said weakly.

  “Of course,” Ivy said.

  “But her number isn’t here. It’s on my phone back at the house.”

  I turned to look at Ivy over my shoulder. “Call Mason. He’ll get it for you.”

  Ivy nodded and left, and the doctor patted Erica’s thigh reassuringly. “Doing great, Erica. You’re dilated to a six.”

  “It hurts,” Erica said, grimacing and crushing my hand with hers.

  “Soon you’ll have a beautiful baby in your arms,” the doctor said.

  I gave her a sharp look. “Is Erica’s regular OB on the way?”

  “He is. He’ll be here within a few minutes. I just came in to check on her.”

  “Erica is going through this so a couple can adopt this baby,” I said. “We have a specific plan in place, and it has to be respected.”

  The doctor’s face fell. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

  Erica gasped. “Matt and Sara! I was supposed to let them know if I went into labor early. They were coming to stay at a hotel next week since I’m due then.”

  I looked at the doctor. “I’m sorry to ask but would you mind getting my phone from my purse on that chair and calling Ivy and asking her to call Matt and Sara, too?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Hours passed. I wiped Erica’s brow and talked her through the contractions. Ivy returned and backed me up. Erica’s regular OB came and over the course of the night, told us she was progressing, but slowly.

  The sun’s earliest rays were visible around the edges of the blinds when the doctor told Erica it was time to push. Within ten minutes, a woman who looked like she was in her late twenties came into the room, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “Erica,” she said, going to the other side of the bed to take her other hand. “We’re here. How are you, honey?”

  Erica smiled weakly. “Sara.”

  The baby’s adoptive mother was a beautiful blond with a large round diamond solitaire wedding ring. She wore a t-shirt, jeans and no makeup.

  “How’s the pain?” she asked Erica.

  “Painful,” Erica cracked, managing a smile.

  Sara blinked and her tears spilled over. “I wish I could be the one hurting instead of you. You’re very brave, Erica.”

  “Time to push,” the doctor said.

  “Get Matt,” Erica said through clenched teeth. “You both wanted to be in here.”

  “Only if you want it,” Sara said. “He’d love to be here, but he understands if you’d rather not.”

  Erica nodded wildly as she pushed, bearing down with every ounce of her strength.

  Matt was a broad-shouldered, handsome man with light brown hair and a look so hopeful my heart shattered as I saw him. This couple was desperate to be parents.

  “Don’t leave me,” Erica said to me in a tiny voice.

  “Promise,” I said, looking at the delivery nurse. “Time to push again, sweetie.”

  “You can do it, Erica,” Matt said, standing behind his wife with his hands on her shoulders.

  She screamed and cried and I couldn’t help crying too, though I wiped the tears away as quickly as I could. It was heart-wrenching to watch her labor and wonder if all the tears were for the physical pain, or for the baby she was about to give up.

  Sara leaned down by Erica’s ear and spoke softly. “I love you, Erica. You’re so strong. Almost there.”

  Erica seemed to get renewed strength from the words. She leaned forward and let out a murderous scream as she pushed. Matt wrapped an arm around her back to support her and we all encouraged her.

  “Baby’s head is out,” the doctor said. “One more big push, Erica.”

  She gave it her all, sweat dripping from her chin. Then she dropped back against the pillow as the doctor turned, sweeping the baby away from her sight. She’d been specific about not wanting to see the baby.

  Sara and Matt went behind a curtain with the doctor. I looked down at Erica, who was limp with exhaustion.

  “You were amazing,” I said.

  “Is the baby okay?”

  “I think so.”

  Sara came out from behind the curtain, her face streaked with tears as she bent to kiss Erica’s forehead.

  “
Thank you,” she said.

  “Is the baby okay?”

  Sara choked back a sob. “Beautiful and healthy.”

  Erica smiled. “I know I said I didn’t want to know if it was a boy or a girl, but . . . I do.”

  “It’s a girl,” Sara said, wiping away more tears. “Do you want to hold her?”

  “I don’t think I should.” Erica’s voice shook as she spoke. “But I’d like to see her. Can I?”

  “Of course.”

  I was barely holding it together. I wanted to drop into a heap on the floor and sob. But I had to be here for Erica, so I kept hold of her hand as Sara came out from behind the curtain with a swaddled baby wearing a pink cap.

  “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Sara said through tears.

  “She is,” Erica agreed, sitting up to see her. “What’s her name?”

  “Brianna,” Sara said softly. “This is Brianna Erica Andersen.”

  “Hello, Brianna,” Erica said. She opened her mouth to speak again, but turned her head away instead. “Please, take her away.”

  Matt was nearby, and he stepped in and carefully took the bundled baby from his wife’s arms.

  Sara gave me a questioning look. I could see that she wanted to say the right thing to Erica, but she didn’t know what it was.

  “I’m April,” I said. “And this is Ivy.”

  Ivy waved from her seat in a nearby chair.

  “Erica’s told us about you,” Sara said. “Thank you for what you do. And for being here with her.”

  “We’re staying with her. She won’t be alone.”

  Sara nodded, accepting my silent offer to go spend time with her new daughter.

  “I’ll be back,” she said.

  The doctor finished his work and a nurse started cleaning Erica up. She cried quietly and I rubbed her hand with mine, wishing, like Sara, that I knew what to say. But something told me that no words could comfort her right now, and she just needed to cry.

  “Would you like some medicine to help you relax and sleep?” the doctor asked.

  Erica nodded and a nurse returned quickly and emptied a syringe into her IV. Within minutes, her eyes closed.

  “That was hard,” Ivy said softly.

  I sighed and turned to meet her gaze. “You can go home and rest.”