Wrecking Ball (Hard To Love Book 1)

by P. Dangelico

  Chuckling, I wipe the tear that’s escaped down my cheek. I turn to get an eyeful of my little blond friend and find her cheeks stuffed with food.

  “I don’t get why you’re still single.”

  “Because I’m smart, that’s why,” she says, still chewing her pizza. “Who needs this drama?” I can’t argue with her there. I’m no fan of drama myself. As a matter of fact, I’ve already had more than I can bear in a lifetime. “I predict that turkey––” she points a greasy finger at the television screen, “will be banging down my door three days hence.”

  Such a smart mouth. I laugh, of course. “I hope you’re right…I just hope he does it for the right reason.”

  Amber drops the cynical mask. “I get it,” she says, the mood serious all of a sudden.

  If I know one thing, it’s that we all learn at our own pace. You can show someone the way, though ultimately they have to figure it out for themselves. It may be wishful thinking, however, it seems that Cal is starting to figure it out.

  “For realz? That’s what you’re wearing?” Amber says, throwing herself down on the bed with a script in hand.

  “All the teachers are dressing up. What else am I supposed to go as? Sexy maid? Sexy kitten? Or beached whale?” I finish painting the square pink nose and the white stripe down my face. “What time is your audition?”

  Stella, Mercedes’ daughter, did me a favor and got Amber an audition for a hot new television series that’s about time travel. Turns out, her best friend is Delia Law, the best selling romance author whose books the show has been adapted from, so she was able to pull some strings.

  “Ten…I’m nervous. And I’m never nervous for these things.”

  “Could be a good omen if this feels different.” She looks up at me, vulnerable and unsure––something Amber rarely is. “Ambs, you deserve it. You deserve something really wonderful to happen to you. It’s just a matter of time.” Just then the pressure that’s been steadily growing in my gut since I had breakfast spikes. I rub my tiny bulge in slow circles and measure my breathing.

  Her delicate features twist into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s probably nothing, but I’ve had this ache growing since breakfast. And I feel a lot of pressure…probably nothing.”

  Twenty minutes later, as I’m about to leave for work, I can no longer ignore the pain. “Amber, I have to go to the hospital. Call the school and tell them I can’t make it in. And call Ange.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No. Just make the calls. You have to go over your lines and get ready for the audition. Besides, the hospital is only five blocks away.”

  Grabbing my purse and keys, I make my way outside and hail a cab.

  “NYU Medical Center.” The cab driver cranes his neck and gives me a bright grin.

  “Nice costume.”

  “Thanks,” I squeak out because the pain and pressure have been growing exponentially since I left the apartment.

  “Are you okay, lady?”

  “Of course, not! Why do you think I’m headed to the hospital?” I shout while I’m doubled over, sweating bullets and scared out of my mind. That prompts him to drive at warp speed. Two minutes later, we pull up in front of the emergency room. Needless to say, it’s a miracle I’m still in one piece. Today is my lucky day apparently because the emergency room is empty––something that never ever happens in New York City. Let’s hope the winning streak continues.

  After I check in and tell them who my OBGYN is, I’m whisked off for tests. For the first time since I left the apartment, I entertain the thought that I may be losing this baby and a terror, the dimensions of which I can’t even begin to measure, gets a hold of me.

  Breathe in, breathe out, breath in, breathe out. God, please, I’ll be good. I promise. Just don’t take this baby away from me.

  “Abdominal distention, excessive flatus volume and smell…symptoms were clear,” says Dr. Levine, my OBGYN, a lovely man in his late sixties. He’s standing next to the emergency room doctor, who happens to be crazy hot. Holy Moses. Sharp cheekbones and sharper jaw, a mess of disheveled brown hair and sleeves of tattoos that travel up both his arms and disappear under his scrubs. Great. Why couldn’t I get some old toothless dude seeing me at my worst.

  They’re both smirking. I’m feeling a ton better since they administered the medication.

  “What did you eat this morning?” says Doctor Hotness.

  “Cantaloupe and whole wheat toast.”

  “How much cantaloupe?”

  “A lot.”

  He smirks again, his bright green eyes turning into crescents. “Cool costume.”

  “Thanks…so you’re saying I had to fart?” No point in acting coy about it. Gotta face the embarrassment head on.

  “I prefer the clinical term, but yes. The cantaloupe is the culprit. It ferments and turns into gas. That’s not uncommon in pregnant women.”

  “Camilla!!!” The shout is so loud I can hear it over the chaos typical of emergency rooms. Then, a scuffling sound. “Get the fuck off of me!” More scuffling. Doctor Hotness scowls while my doctor pushes the curtain aside to see what the commotion is about. And that’s when I spot him.

  His eyes are huge in his face. Even the dark scruff can’t hide the pallor of his skin. Without once breaking eye contact, he rushes toward me, two security officers fast on his heels. I glance around. The entire emergency room is watching this play out.

  “I got here as soon as I could––” he rushes into. I can see that. He’s still wearing his entire practice uniform, cleats and all. He’s also soaked in sweat.

  “Sir, you can’t leave your car in front of the emergency room like that,” says officer number one.

  “Then tow it! Can’t you see my wife needs me!”

  Wife? The fuck?

  Calvin takes a step closer and Doctor Hotness steps in between us. “Whoa, buddy.”

  And then Calvin proceeds to give Doctor Hotness his most lethal Prince of Darkness glare.

  “It’s okay, doc. He’s tame––mostly.”

  Calvin slowly walks up to me. He looks like he might rip at the seams...like he’s about to cry. He cups my face gently.

  “I love you. I love you so much I can’t remember what it’s like not to love you. And I’m the biggest ass in the world for not telling you sooner, but I…” Looking over his shoulder, he scowls at the group congregating around us. “Can we have some privacy?”

  The crowd disperses at once.

  He gets down on his knees in front of the gurney I’m sitting on. “I was scared.” He bites his bottom lip and I want to soothe it for him with mine. “I was scared of the power you have over me. Because you do––” he says, nodding. “You do. I…I’ve never felt like this before. The thing is…you’re the best person I know. You give everything, and you never ask for anything in return and…”

  “Calvin––”

  “I’m not done,” he says and plants a quick kiss on me. “I thought I was an adult. I thought taking care of shit, being responsible made me a man––but I was wrong. You did…loving you made a man out me.” He blinks repeatedly, fighting the tears tracking down his cheeks, his jaw tight. For a moment, I fear it may shatter. “I’m sorry you lost the baby. We can try again as soon as you’re ready…if you still want me. Please say you still want me.”

  I wipe the tears away from his face and place a kiss on each cheek, his nose, his lips. He crushes me to his chest and holds me so tightly I have to push him away before he cuts off my oxygen supply.

  Looking into his glazed eyes, I say, “I didn’t lose the baby. How do you feel about that?”

  His expression morphs from shock, to wonder, to joy in a split second. “You’re not messing with me, right?”

  “It’s Halloween, not April Fool’s. No––I’m not messing with you,” I say, holding his face in my hands.

  “Thank God,” he mumbles, exhaling deeply. And it’s like the floodgates of love open all at once. I
’m assaulted with kisses. I’m hugged and squeezed, his hands sliding over every square inch of black and white fur. Then, hauling me onto his lap, he hides his face in the curve of my costume covered neck.

  “Nice costume,” he mumbles an eternity later.

  “You like it?”

  “I fucking love cows.”

  “Reginald?”

  “What, Honey?”

  “Why’d you think I lost the baby?”

  “Amber called. She said you were having a miscarriage and it was all my fault. Then she said she hopes I get gang raped in a dark alley by a heard of homosexual mules.”

  “She’s very creative.”

  “She’s never allowed to babysit.”

  I kiss the man I love more than life itself. “Are you mine now?”

  “I’ve been yours since the minute I laid eyes on you, my little wrecking ball.”

  “And you’re okay with being a father?”

  He pulls back and his solemn eyes meet mine. He nods twice. “Yes. Because I’m doing it with you. All my life, I’ve felt like something was dragging me down. But when I’m with you, that weight’s gone.” Cal stands us up and bends down to kiss my pink cow udders. “Marry me?”

  My smile spreads from ear to ear. “Boobear––I thought you’d never ask.”

  Epilogue

  “What’s it gonna take,” he says, his voice low and sexy.

  My gaze slides over the traps I love to nibble on, across the broad chest that keeps me warm every night, down to the corrugated muscles of his stomach. How am I supposed to form a cohesive thought when I have his wonder for the senses distracting me? And let’s not forget that not much is covering the rest of him.

  No surprise, he’s parading around in a pair of tattered boxer briefs old enough to be considered a relic. Some things never change. I tried to throw them away one day and wound up getting spanked for it. Can’t say I won’t try that again very soon. His big hand strokes and pats my daughter’s back, who looks like a tiny beanbag snuggled between his shoulder and neck.

  “Babe, she’s asleep. Go put her down.”

  “In a little while.”

  “What’s it going to take for you to give me another one?” The wicked smile curving those sensual lips does not bode well for me.

  “Something you don’t posses––the ability to breastfeed.” Bending down, he plants a sweet kiss on my lips and starts to pull away. I can’t resist threading my fingers through his hair and keeping him in place for one more. When my daughter stirs awake, we break apart. Gently, he pets the silky black hair that’s standing up straight, her fine features and coloring an exact replica of her daddy’s.

  Of all the ways this man has managed to surprise me, the way he took on fatherhood was by far the most shocking. He didn’t miss a single beat. As soon as our son came into this world, he took one look at that baby, shed two tears, and took charge. For the first few months, I had to threaten him to hand the baby over so I could breastfeed. Then he went and reversed the vasectomy.

  He has one more year left on his contract with the Titans. Retirement soon to follow. Is it terrible to admit how relieved I am? At first, I was worried about how much he’d miss the work, the camaraderie with the guys. However, when he told me he wanted to go into coaching, I knew he was going to be fine. That Team Shaw would be fine.

  When I asked him if he regrets not winning another championship, he told me he was done wanting anything for himself, said he was looking forward to helping other people make their dreams come true. He says life has a funny way of showing you what you want before you even know you want it. I have to agree.

  “We just had this one.”

  His pushiness used to make me crazy. Now I think it’s cute. Insert eye roll. But that’s love for you. It’ll take your world, turn it upside down, and have you smiling while the g-force takes your breath away.

  “We haven’t done it in the hammock in a while,” he murmurs in that ridiculously sexy voice that’s gotten me into trouble more than once. A slight lift of a black eyebrow follows. “Kids are asleep.”

  “You and I both know you’re no good in a hammock. It got dangerous last time.”

  “That’s because we were trying to give Connor and Christian a little brother––”

  “Sister. Sister. And just so we’re clear, no more penises in this house, EVER again. Got it?” Needless to say, the boys are more than a handful.

  “Point is, I needed better leverage.”

  “You almost gave yourself a concussion.”

  “Are you questioning my abilities, woman? ‘Cause I’m ready to provide a demonstration.”

  “No one is disputing your ability to make babies, my love.” I can’t help the giggle that bubbles up when he begins a stealthy crawl toward our bed. “Reginald––don’t you dare wake that baby.”

  “You’re payin’ for that.” Ten minutes later, after he’s put Caroline in her crib, he returns wearing a look that warns me good things are coming. “Now where were we? Oh yeah, I was going to torture you with my tongue.”

  I giggle as he pounces on me. And then I breathe out a relaxed sigh as the weight of him settles between my thighs. “Just remember, no more penises,” I whisper in his ear.

  “I’ll do my best, Honey.”

  And I know he means it. This amazing man would never give anything other than his best.

  Thank You

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed Cam and Cal’s story. Us authors really count on you readers to let us know how we’re doing. If you could just take a minute to write a review, I’d really appreciate it!

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  About the Author

  P. Dangelico loves romance in all forms, shapes, and sizes, cuddly creatures (four legged and two), brick oven pizza, the NY Jets (although she may rethink that after this season), and to while away the day at the barn.

  What she’s not enamored with is referring to herself in the third person and social media. But in an attempt to get up to speed with the rest of the civilized world, you can now reach her at…

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  p.dangelico

  www.pdangelico.com