Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)

by Layla Hagen

“Don’t say it back or I’ll think you’re saying it because I said it.”

  I feel his lips curl in a smile against my palm, and I drop my hand.

  “What’s the appropriate time to wait so you don’t think I’m saying it because you said it?”

  Nope, totally not imagining how our kids might look. Also not imagining how cute his dimple and rich hair would look on a boy. Keep your feet on the ground, Clara. Easier said than done when the rest of my body feels airborne.

  “I don’t know. A day? A week?”

  “Have I told you how amazing you are?”

  I swear my heart doubles in size. It will explode soon. “I believe you have, but feel free to tell me that again. You can add smart and cunning while you’re at it.”

  “How about chatterbox?”

  “Only if I can make free use of Blakealicious.”

  “Ouch. Fine, waving the white flag here. We’ll just be silent, and I’ll hold you until you fall asleep.”

  He nods, opening one arm, beckoning me to snuggle up to him.

  “You like to spoon. Admit it.”

  “Never.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Clara

  “Please take a seat, Ms. Abernathy. We’ll call your name when it’s your turn.”

  I drop in a plastic chair at my gynecologist’s practice, pulling out my phone and checking my e-mails. Job hunting is a stressful endeavor, and I honestly hadn’t thought it would last so long. I went to more interviews than I could count, and still have a ton scheduled. But the cherry on the top? I applied for the illustrator job Charlie talked about, and after reviewing my portfolio, they asked to meet me face-to-face next week, and as part of the process, I have to do a custom illustration for them. I am really trying not to get my hopes up, but I’m failing miserably. I’m also working tirelessly on said illustration. If I’m fighting for my dream, I’d better do it at full speed.

  “Ms. Abernathy, you can go in.”

  Right. It’s high time I switched to pills for birth control. Blake was absolutely enthusiastic when I told him. I stride into her office with a big smile. After all, today I’m here just for a prescription for birth control. I’m not up for my yearly checkup yet. It’s mid-August now, and I got my who-ha checked in April. Visits to the gynecologist are my least favorite. I mean, going to the doctor is never pleasant, but something about having someone look into my who-ha is unnerving.

  “Clara, nice to see you.” She shakes my hand, welcoming me into her practice, pointing to the seat in front of her desk. She’s a petite woman in her forties with a sweet and calming demeanor.

  The one thing I love about her practice is that it doesn’t smell like a hospital. I can imagine I’m in an office, right until I have to drop my panties and spread my legs, but with some luck, I won’t have to do that today.

  She sits behind the desk, looking at my file. “You were here four months ago. Anything wrong?”

  “Oh no. I just want some birth control. I’ve only been using condoms until now.”

  She smiles sweetly, closing the file. “Sure. Do you know what you want? Or should we go through all your options? There are pills, IUDs. I have to tell you right off the bat that none of them is one hundred percent certain, but then again, neither is the condom. You get about ninety-nine percent certainty.”

  I laugh nervously. “I think that’s enough. I want pills.”

  She nods, picking up a pen and pulling a small notebook from under a stack of papers. I make a mental fist pump. This will be a record short visit. Then she puts the pen back down. Damn it. So close.

  “We need to do a urine test before.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she looks at the results of the test and smiles.

  “Oh!” she exclaims, startling me. Crap. A surprised doctor is never a good thing.

  “Looks like you won’t need that birth control after all.”

  I frown, not quite understanding. “Why? Am I—am I sterile?” That couldn’t be, right? It would have come up sometime in the past twelve years or so of controls.

  “No, of course not. You’re pregnant.”

  My mouth goes dry, and my vision clouds for just a split second. I must have misheard her. “Pregnant? With...a baby?”

  She laughs softly. “Yes.”

  “But I don’t understand. We’ve used condoms every time. I mean, we’ve been at it like bunnies because that man can fuck me silly on a daily basis. He has quite the stamina—” Shit. Here comes my verbal diarrhea again. The good doctor doesn’t need to know so much. “But that shouldn’t matter as long as we used protection, right? We used a condom every time. And it didn’t break. Not once.”

  “Sometimes a break isn’t obvious.”

  My mouth goes dry as I breathe in and out, euphoria and panic warring inside me. There is a baby growing inside me. A baby! I place my hand on my belly, not quite ready to believe there is a tiny human there. The panic pushes away the euphoria for the moment.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Let’s do a transvaginal ultrasound, and I’ll tell you exactly how far along you are.”

  A few short minutes later, I climb on the examination bed, and she proceeds with the ultrasound.

  “We have a heartbeat,” she says triumphantly, pointing to the screen next to the bed and emotion clogs my throat as I watch the tiny blip. “By the looks of it, you’ve been pregnant for about six weeks.”

  “But six weeks...I drank coffee every day.”

  “Just make sure you adhere to the restrictions from now on, and you’ll be just fine. I’ll give you a full list.”

  “Okay.” I draw in another deep breath. “Okay.”

  “Since you came in here for birth control, I’m assuming this was unplanned. You have options if this isn’t what you want. Abortion, adoption.”

  It takes me a second to register what she means.

  “No, I want it. Of course I want it. I’m just...I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “Sometimes the best things in life happen unexpectedly.”

  I’d agree with her, but almost everything in my life so far has been unplanned. I was hoping to do better than that for my baby, at least be married or employed.

  My mind spins while the doctor gives me instructions, recommends vitamins, and whatnot. Still, I’m overcome with joy, and I place both hands on my belly. It’s silly, I know. There’s nothing to feel. It’ll be months before he or she starts to kick. But it’s growing inside me. Someone tiny to take care of and shower with love.

  I can already picture it: the nursery, the adorable clothes. Me sitting in a rocking chair, singing a lullaby until the baby falls asleep. I can practically smell that sweet and sugary scent of a newborn.

  There is just one question mark. How will Blake take this?

  My heart begins to thrum faster again, the panic barreling back in as I leave the building. I’m happy I didn’t come by car because I couldn’t concentrate on driving. The walk will do me good. Maybe by the time I get home I’ll have my thoughts together.

  Except I want to keep thinking about the baby because that seems safer. With Blake, this could play out too many ways. I distinctly remember him telling me that starting a family right now is the last thing he wants. We’ve been growing close, but a baby is a huge and permanent thing, and I am starting to panic for real.

  Sweat breaks out of my forehead, and I stop at a kiosk to buy a bottle of water. I gurgle down the ice-cold liquid, and it helps me calm down somewhat. Blake is a good man through and through. Still, the prospect of talking to him sends my mind into a tailspin, again.

  What if he won’t want me for good...or the baby? My eyes sting at the mere thought that he’d push me—us—away. One would think that at this point in my life, I’d be a pro at dealing with rejection, but I am far from it. Every time I deal with it, I feel like that eleven-year-old again, who was dropped at the orphanage with a pink slip of paper in her hand. I guess some wounds never really
heal.

  I’m ridiculous. I’ve seen Blake with his nieces and nephews. He adores them. I don’t doubt that. He plays with them, spoils them, never ever loses his patience. Whether he wants me for good or not, he’ll do right by the baby. I know he will.

  But I really hope he’ll want me too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Clara

  “Thank God they’re feeding us at least,” Theresa exclaims. She’s a fellow candidate for the illustrator position. They called in thirty candidates from the pool of two hundred who applied, and we were all asked to come here at eight o’clock this morning. We’re interviewing with different people. So far, I’ve had six interviews and my head is spinning. The whole thing will last until five o’clock.

  “Amen!” I say as we head toward the buffet lined up in the entrance area of the waiting room. “But I have to be quick because my next interview starts in ten minutes.”

  “Mine in twenty. No matter the outcome today, I’m going to have a bubble bath tonight.”

  “I love bubble baths too.” But I won’t be taking one tonight. I have a very important thing to do, namely tell Blake about the baby—yes, I’m that much of a coward. I’ve known for an entire week, and I haven’t worked up the courage to tell him. Not only that, but I kept to myself as much as possible, afraid that Blake would see right through me otherwise. I’ve been using the interview and the custom illustration I had to do for today as an excuse, but I’m not sure he’s buying it.

  Tonight is the night, though.

  I bought a pair of baby shoes, which I plan to use as an introduction. It’s a bit cheesy, but I’m feeling very cheesy these days. I’m blaming the hormones. I’ve been carrying the shoes in my purse since I bought them. Sometimes between interviews, I look through my bag so I can see them.

  I’ve prepared an entire speech. Actually, I’ve prepared quite a few variations, depending on how Blake will take the news. A big part of me hopes he’ll just take me in his arms, overcome with joy, and say we’ll figure this out together. The rational part of me is making contingency plans.

  “Sushi!” Theresa exclaims when we reach the buffet. I look at the selection wistfully. The food selection includes other goodies too, thank goodness, because I’m not allowed to eat sushi. So instead, I load my plate with everything else. This week has been a bit terrible. I’ve had to give up coffee, and I feel permanently jet-lagged. On the bright side, I have zero morning sickness.

  “Why aren’t you eating sushi? Not a fan?” Theresa asks as we walk away from the too-crowded buffet area and sit in the chairs in the waiting area by the elevators.

  “I love sushi, but sadly I can’t eat it right now.”

  “Pregnant?”

  I wince, and I can feel my eyes widening. Theresa’s eyes widen too. Crap. She was just stabbing in the dark, but I gave myself away.

  “Yeah, I’m pregnant.” The corners of my mouth lift up in a smile all by themselves as I say this. I realize I haven’t said it out loud since the doctor gave me the news. I haven’t told anyone. I couldn’t possibly tell any of the Bennetts before talking to Blake, and Penny has been buried in deadlines all week. “Six weeks.”

  “Wow, how will this work if you get the position?”

  I’m about to say I haven’t thought that far when a familiar voice booms from behind me.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  I literally leap to my feet, whirling around. Blake is standing just outside the elevator, feet planted wide, a bag of takeout in his left hand. My stomach rumbles at the smell. Something from Blue Moon, by the package. I don’t even care what it is. Everything from there is delicious. I cleared my plate, and I’m still hungry.

  “Clara?” Blake’s voice snaps me back to the matter at hand, which is far more important than my all-consuming hunger.

  “I’ll leave you two,” Theresa says, right before she scurries off with her plate.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Wanted to surprise you with lunch. Roast beef. Your favorite. Thought it would bring you luck.” He places the takeout bag on one of the chairs. “You’re pregnant?” he repeats, frowning now. My entire body tenses. I’ve seen Blake frown maybe a dozen times since I’ve known him. I was hoping this wouldn’t be an occasion for frowning.

  “Yes, I have...I mean I am....” Jesus, why can’t I whip two words together in a coherent sentence? Sweat dots my palms, and I wipe them both on my jeans. I wish he’d crack a joke. I wish I’d crack a joke, but my brain isn’t cooperating. The grim set of his mouth really isn’t helping. I could use a smile. I’d be grateful even for the hint of a smile.

  “Six weeks? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I haven’t known for six weeks. I went to the doctor like we talked about, so I could get birth control. And that’s when I discovered.”

  “You went to the doctor last week,” he points out. There’s still not a hint of smile on his face. “Is this why you’ve been so distant?”

  A knot lodges in my throat. “I didn’t know how you’d take the news.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t know how I’d take it? Why are you so nervous? You don’t want the baby?”

  “I’m—” My voice catches. I shake my head, closing my eyes. The image of the tiny shoes pops up in my mind. “I can’t believe you asked me that,” I finish weakly.

  “Clara Abernathy!” a voice resounds from deeper inside the waiting room. “Your interviewer is waiting.”

  “I have to go.”

  “I can wait until your next break.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Clara—” he tries again.

  “Please don’t. I have a gazillion more interviews, and I want to have a clear head.”

  Without waiting for his reply, I turn my back to him and head straight to my interview room.

  ***

  They start triaging us in the afternoon. By four o’clock, just six of us are left from the thirty. Theresa didn’t make the cut, which is a pity. I liked her. They’ll only hire three though, so the game is still on. I’m dizzy and hungry by the time they call me in for the last interview. A woman with a short, graying bob welcomes me inside. My portfolio is to her right, my custom illustration for them on the left.

  “I’m Sheila Radcliffe. Take a seat, Ms. Abernathy. You’re pale. Are you feeling all right?”

  Yep, just confused and broken-hearted. And what with the lack of caffeine in my system and the general drowsiness the doctor warned might hit me in the first trimester, I feel like I’m wading through a particularly thick cobweb of thoughts.

  “Just been a long day, but I’m excited to be here.”

  She scoffs. “Please, between the two of us, I can be honest. This process has been a nightmare. Our HR really needs to get their act together. Who’s got time for ten interviews?”

  I smile weakly. “This is my twelfth.”

  “Pffft, see what I mean? I wanted you on my team since I saw this.”

  She holds up an illustration from my portfolio. It’s two years old, and I did it on a whim, in one crazy night. It’s a little strange and a lot colorful.

  “Wow, really?”

  She nods. “Really. This tells me you have creativity. Technique can be learned, but creativity comes from within. So yeah, that’s what convinced me. But HR insisted on a million interviews to see if we’re a good fit and whatnot.” Ah yes, that does sound like HR bullshit. “I told them the only thing I care about is the illustrator’s work, not which personality type they are, but alas, I don’t make all the rules. So, Clara—can I call you that?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Brilliant! You’re available to start immediately, right?”

  I can barely believe this is happening. “I am.”

  “Good. Because I want to change the plans. I do get to make some rules, thank goodness. All of the remaining six candidates are my favorites, and I don’t want to narrow it down yet. What I do want is for all of you to go through with the two weeks
of training, and at the end of it, we’ll see who we’re keeping.”

  I nod, a little disappointed that the process will stretch out even more.

  “Would you be able to start the training tomorrow instead of next week? There’s a plane flying out this evening—we’re paying for all expenses, of course—and I really want to get the ball rolling.”

  Oh snap. The training is at their headquarters, which is in Boston. If I take off this evening, it means I get a very short time to talk to Blake, and I was hoping to at least get a good night’s sleep before tackling that. But there’s no way I can say no. Friendly as Sheila is, it’s clear that saying no is an exclusion criteria.

  “Sure, no problem. I’m your girl.”

  She claps her hands, smiling brightly. “Excellent. I think you’ll like it at Ayaks Publishing, Clara.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Blake

  Hi, Blake. I got to the next level!!! Which is not being hired. They’ll decide which of us they keep after the two-weeks training. They changed the schedule and want to start the training tomorrow, so I have to fly out to Boston tonight. I’m home now, packing, but you’re not here, and I can’t wait any longer or I’ll miss the plane. Maybe this is for the bes,t though! You’ll have two weeks to think about everything. We’ll talk when I get back. I understand this was a shock to you, but I hope you’ll do right by the baby, even if you don’t want me. Please don’t call. I don’t want to talk about this on the phone.

  I read the message for the twentieth time. She thinks I don’t want her. Jesus, out of all the mistakes I’ve done in my life, this takes the cake, by far. Yeah, it was a shock, but that was a knee-jerk reaction.

  I planned to apologize last night, but that went nowhere. While she was here, packing, I was running around setting up our big dinner. I’d planned on this being a big dinner even before I screwed up. This was going to be the night when I told her I loved her and officially asked her to move in. I wanted to wait until after the whole Ayaks business was over because she spent the week before in a frenzy working on their custom illustration. It was my “go big or go home” moment. I thought she’d love a great, romantic gesture. Screw great gestures. This is what you get for waiting for the right moment. There is no right moment. There is just right now.