The O'Conners: A Made for Love Novella

by Martin, R. C.

  If only I knew what…

  Instead of trying to figure it out, I just enjoy the feel of the gorgeous woman beneath me.

  “Oh, Grayson—I’m sorry…”

  “Sweetheart—”

  “No! Don’t stop—please don’t stop! I’m so close. Are you? I need you to be close—we have to do this together. Okay? Together. Everything’s better when we’re together, right? We can do anything together.”

  “Avery—” Her panic causes me to thrust harder, my way of reminding her that I’m here.

  I’m right here.

  “I’m going to come, Sonny—come with me!”

  I pick up the pace, needing just a little push to get me to where she is. As she squeezes me with her orgasm, calling out my name, I fall over the edge right along with her. I whisper against the soft, fragrant skin of her neck, each utterance a question.

  When I’ve ridden out my release, I allow my body to collapse on top of hers as I take a moment to breathe. She holds me close, stroking her fingers through my hair. Then, without any further prompting, she speaks.

  “I’m late, Sonny. My period…I’m late.” My head shoots up, my eyes seeking hers. Her big, brown irises are glossy with unshed tears. “I’m sorry I’ve been keeping it from you. I was just hoping…”

  My heart is beating so fast, it almost hurts. “How—how—” It’s suddenly difficult to breathe. “How late?”

  “Three…” Her lips tremble as she draws in a shaky breath. “Three weeks.”

  “So—” I shake my head, unsure whether or not my mind is chaotic with too many thoughts, or buzzing with the emptiness of not a single one. “So—”

  Barely above a whisper, she finishes my incomplete thought. “I think I’m pregnant.”

  He rolls away from me and he’s on his feet before I have the chance to mourn the loss of him inside of me. I watch as he frantically searches for his essential items of clothing, discarded carelessly only a few minutes ago. I sit up as he puts on his boxers, his dress pants and shoes. He skips donning socks and grabs the tank top he was wearing as he heads for the bedroom door.

  “Sonny?” I’m barely aware of the tears streaming down my face, too concerned with the actions of my husband. He turns back at the sound of my voice and makes his way to the bed without a second’s hesitation. He kisses me. It’s not a long kiss or a passionate one. It’s hard, unforgiving, and over before I can get a breath. When he pulls away, he doesn’t say a word before he leaves the apartment.

  I’m so stunned, I don’t know how long I look at the door wondering if it’s too much to imagine that he’ll magically reappear. I have no idea where he’s gone, half dressed with sex-mused hair. I have no idea when I should expect him back. Worst of all, I have no idea what he’s thinking.

  I thought it was hard bearing the weight of the possibility of a baby all on my own. Now that my secret is out, my loneliness in this moment is heart wrenching. Not once over the last three weeks did I think this news would be easier to accept with Sonny being in the know. However, I did think that after the initial panic wore off, we’d at least have each other to hold onto. My heart is sure he’ll be back—isn’t that what his kiss meant?—but his current absence has left me feeling more lost and confused than I’ve been all along. The thought of what I’m supposed to do next evades me.

  When I grow cold, I get up and reach for his wrinkled dress shirt. It’s a million sizes too big for me, but I don’t care. It comforts me to be drowning in his scent. I button up just enough to keep it closed before I ball the excess fabric of his sleeves into my fists. I make my way out of the bedroom and, for the second time today, I head to the window, looking for Sonny. I don’t dry my cheeks when I realize he has not yet returned.

  I knew right away when the start date of my cycle had come and gone. I’m so incredibly meticulous about taking my pill every day as soon as I brush my teeth. It’s not that Grayson and I don’t want children. We do. It’s just that it was never in our plans to start a family anytime soon. When we first got married, we discussed whether or not we deemed it necessary to use the pill and condoms. In the end, we decided that our intimacy mattered more than taking double precautions to avoid me getting pregnant.

  Even now, as I pace my way back and forth across the living room floor in my bare feet, I don’t regret our decision. Now, I’m simply desperate to know what Sonny is thinking. I’m guessing, considering his hasty exit, he wouldn’t be able to put it into words even if he tried. Part of me can’t blame him for that. I still don’t know what to think either. For the past twenty-one days—good God—I’ve been traveling through each day hoping and praying that my body is confused. I’ve been waiting for the dreaded monthly inconvenience with more desperation than I’ve ever felt in my life.

  Yet, while I understand his sense of shock, I can’t ignore the fact that his not being here hurts. I need him. Didn’t I make that perfectly clear before? How many times did I say the words after I threw myself at him? How could he just walk out like that?

  Before my heart can latch onto those questions, Sonny barges through the door. I’m so relieved to see him that I burst into a fresh bout of tears. He rushes to me, dropping the bag that’s in his hands at our feet before gently grabbing hold of my face.

  “Hey, don’t cry. It’s going to be okay. I promise, it’s going to be okay.” He seals his word with a loving kiss against my forehead and I wrap my arms around him tightly.

  “Where were you?”

  He takes a deep breath and blows out a sigh as he dries my cheeks with his thumbs. Then he bends down and retrieves the bag I already forgot about. “It’s not enough to think you’re pregnant. We need to know, Shorty.” He pulls three pregnancy tests out and I pull my lip between my teeth. “Can I get you some water or something?”

  I shake my head as I take his hand and begin leading him to the bathroom. “I just got the nervous pees. I’ll be fine.”

  “Do you want me to—”

  “You don’t get to leave me again, Hottie. So don’t even think about it.”

  “Okay. Yeah. I’m right here,” he assures me, giving my fingers a squeeze.

  Our bathroom is tiny. There really isn’t room for the both of us to be in here. Usually, the only time we share the space is if one of us is in the shower and the other is brushing our teeth. Or…if both of us are in the shower. I blush, wondering if we’re really pregnant, which encounter sealed our fate?

  “You ready?” Grayson asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  My answer is no, but I nod anyway. He hands me the first test and I sit to pee. We decide to start with two, saving the third for if one of them comes up negative. When I’m finished, we set both tests on the sink and then stare at each other.

  “I feel like I might throw up,” I admit, twisting my fingers anxiously.

  He nods before taking my hand in his. “I won’t lie, Ave. This whole thing scares the shit out of me.”

  “So we’ll just be scared together,” I whisper past the knot in my throat.

  “Yeah. Together.”

  We wait silently, standing side by side, squeezing the life out of each other’s fingers. I don’t know how much time passes, but I know we give the tests longer than necessary to populate a result. As if we can read each other’s minds, we look at each other in the same moment, each of us silently asking if the other is ready. My gut tells me that we both already know the results we're about to see and neither of us are ready. Again, I nod anyway. When Sonny reaches behind us for the tests, our fears are confirmed.

  I’m pregnant.

  The sun is rising. The light of dawn invades our bedroom, gently reminding me that the world is still spinning, even if mine feels as though it has stopped. I wonder where the night has gone. It feels like no time has passed. Did my restless mind really battle against sleep for the duration of the moon’s visit?

  I feel another one of Avery’s stray tears as it spills onto my bare chest. She’s still dressed in nothing but m
y button-up shirt. Her short, bare legs are tangled with my long ones, her arm draped over my middle as I hold her securely against my side. I think it’s been hours since either of us has moved.

  I bring my hand to rest around the back of her head, burying my fingers in her hair as I lean down to kiss her forehead. “Have you slept?” I ask, barely above a whisper. She shifts in an attempt to get even closer to me as she shakes her head no. “Me neither.”

  Another tear greets my skin and my chest tightens. Honestly, I’m surprised her body has anymore tears to shed. For at least an hour after we saw the results of the pregnancy tests, she was inconsolable. Overwhelmed with my own fear and panic, I didn’t know how to comfort her. I didn’t have any words to give her. Instead, I picked her up and brought her to bed. I got undressed and climbed under the sheets with her. My arms were all I could offer. I can’t say for sure whether it was my tight grip or simply the passage of time that helped calm her down.

  What I do know is that we’ve spoken hardly at all, despite the fact that we’ve been awake for hours. Each of us has been wandering around in our own thoughts. I realize, as the sun begins to shine brighter, that we’re never going to get past our shock if we don’t tell each other what’s going through our heads. It’s like she said last night—everything is better when we're together.

  Gently, I roll us over. Resting between her legs, I prop myself above her. My beautiful bride looks both devastated and afraid. Her puffy red eyes about break my heart and I know, in this moment, I’ve got to man the hell up. Right now, how she feels matters more than anything in the world. She needs me to be the husband I promised I would be. I need to be the strong one, regardless of how strong I actually feel.

  I dry her cheeks and then press my lips against hers. As I pull away, I draw in a deep breath, willing myself to get it together. “Talk to me, Shorty.”

  “I’m going to be a horrible mother!” she manages to squeak out before she bursts into a fresh round of tears. “I’m supposed to be happy! I’m supposed to be thanking God for the miracle of a child—our child. I’m supposed to be excited! But I’m not—I’m not! Instead I feel miserable and selfish and horrible. I’m horrible—horrible, horrible, horr—”

  “Stop it,” I interrupt with a scowl. “That’s not true.”

  “We’re not ready to have a baby,” she sobs. “We’ve barely been married a year! We’re still in school. We have no idea where we’re going to be next summer and—”

  “Sweetheart,” I mumble as I bring my lips to her tear streaked cheeks. I shower her face with soft kisses, whispering her name over and over. “Shhh,” I shush against her lips. “You need to listen to me.”

  She hiccups, holding back her cry as she gives me a nod. I tuck her hair behind her ears as I admire her for a second longer. I wish I had broken the silence sooner. How many hours has she allowed these thoughts to fog up her mind? How could she possibly believe that she'll be a horrible mother? She’s the most caring person I know.

  “Listen to yourself when you talk. Do you hear the things that concern you? You’re scared—you're scared because you care. I’m scared too, sweetheart—scared because I don’t know shit about being a good dad.” I shake my head, thinking about Patrick. It’s hard for me to believe that he ever loved me. More like tolerated me, and that was only when he was sober. When he was drunk, I barely existed at all.

  “You’re going to be an amazing father, Sonny,” Avery whispers, bringing her hands up to wrap around my face. “I know what it’s like to be loved by you.”

  “And I know what it’s like to be loved by you.” I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes. “You taught me what unconditional love from another human being looks like, feels like, tastes like. Avery, I’ll never be able to express the weight of your promises to me—your promise of forever. Those are things I never got from either of my parents. So, you see, it’s not even possible for you to be a horrible mother. You’re not made that way.”

  She pulls her hands away from me and turns her face to the side. “What kind of mother wishes she wasn’t pregnant?”

  “You’re looking at this as if the situation is black and white. It’s not, Shorty. It’s not. There’s a difference between wishing the timing was better versus not wanting the baby at all. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the latter—”

  “Of course I want to keep it!” She snaps her head, aligning her gaze with mine. Her eyes pool with tears but I can tell she’s trying her damnedest not to let another one fall. A single blink eradicates her efforts.

  “That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. Don’t you see? Not all mother’s feel that way. Mine included. Look—this pregnancy isn’t an accident. No, we didn’t plan for this, but we’re not the ones in control here. What are we constantly being reminded of at church? God knows us. He knows us, Ave. He knows who we are. He knows what we can handle. He knows. Apparently, He thinks we can do this.”

  “But what about—"

  I place a finger over her lips and shake my head. I’m exhausted and I don’t have it in me anymore to think about what ifs at the moment. “Today. Let’s just worry about today. We aren’t going to be able to figure this out all at once. So…maybe today we just stay in bed. The three of us. Maybe today you and I just try and wrap our minds around the fact that we’re three now.” As I say the words, I move my finger from over her lips and slowly unbutton the shirt that covers her. I pull it open and look down at her bare body. “We’re going to be parents,” I murmur, resting my hand just below her belly button. “Let’s just pause here for a day, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  I lean down and steal a kiss. “We’re in this together. Always together.”

  She draws in a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “We can do anything together.”

  “Anything,” I reassure her with another kiss.

  She wraps her arms around my neck, preventing me from pulling away. For the first time since we got home from dinner last night, a smile pulls at my lips. “I love you, Sonny,” she murmurs against my mouth.

  “I love you, too.”

  “Did you mean what you said? About staying in bed all day?”

  Another smirk pulls at my lips as I make myself comfortable beside her. I encourage her onto her side and then pull her back against my front. She sighs and I can feel her body relax. “Get some sleep, Shorty,” I murmur against her hair. “Just close your eyes and try not to worry.”

  I don’t follow my own advice until her breathing pattern changes and I know she’s surrendered to her exhaustion. As soon as my eyes close, I let sleep pull me under, too.

  A year ago today, I woke up feeling almost exactly like I feel right now. My stomach was full of butterflies; I felt impatient with anticipation; and while I’m someone who can sleep through just about anything, I woke up with the birds. Their song pulled me out of my slumber like I was in some sort of fairy tale.

  A year ago today, I woke up Avery Jade Grant and fell asleep Avery Jade O’Conner.

  This morning, I wake not just with butterflies in my stomach—but with a baby growing inside of me. I’m not sure what woke me, as the alarm hasn’t sounded yet. For all I know, it could have been my busy thoughts. I’ve been overwhelmed by them lately. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been so incredibly distracted and anxious. My mind is trying to figure out how we’re going to make this work.

  From what I’ve found on the internet, our baby is likely due in March. At that point, Sonny and I’ll both still have two more months of school. Although, part of me is wondering if I could shoulder an extra workload this fall in order to lighten my responsibilities for the spring semester. Then again—I won’t know if that’s even possible until I speak with my advisor. I haven’t scheduled a meeting, yet. It’s not something I can explain without announcing my pregnancy and we haven’t told anyone. I’m certainly not going to tell my advisor before I tell my family.

  Today, Grayson and I are going to our first prenata
l doctor’s appointment. According to the date of my last period, I should be at about eight weeks. When I worked up the courage to call the office, this was the earliest they could fit me in. Today, this baby will become that much more real. I’m still trying to get used to the idea—used to this reality. It’s hard when—

  “I hear you thinking.” A smile tugs at my lips as I feel Grayson’s big, warm hand slide over my flat belly. He spreads his fingers wide and I turn my face to look at him.

  “You hear me thinking?”

  “Mmhmm,” he hums groggily. “You think very loudly.” He moves his hand as he wraps his arm around me and pulls me towards him. Before I can say a word, his lips are pressed against mine. I’m expecting a quick peck, but then his tongue seeks entrance into my mouth.

  There are two things that have proven to help distract me from my ceaseless worrying these last couple weeks. My cello…and my husband’s mouth.

  I open up for him, unwilling and unable to deny him access to every part of me. I melt against him as his hand sneaks underneath my tank top. He palms my breast, my nipples hardening at his touch, and the ache emanating from my core is suddenly my only concern.

  My God, I love this man with everything that I am.

  “Now, that’s a thought I approve of completely.” I can feel his smirk pressed against my mouth as my cheeks warm with a blush. “And I love you, too, Mrs. O’Conner.” He makes quick work of my sleeping shorts, discarding them along with his boxers. Then he pulls me on top of him and frees me from my shirt before I know what’s happening. My hair falls all around us as I look down at him. He sweeps the dark strands out of my face and behind my ears—his gentle movement a beautiful contrast to his hard cock, evident beneath me.

  “A year ago, you made me the luckiest bastard in the world. The last three-hundred and sixty-five days have been the best of my entire existence. I know the future seems scarier now than it did a couple weeks ago, but honestly, Ave—no matter what happens, as long as I have you, I’m better than good.”