Coup De Grâce

by Lani Lynn Vale

  And three months later, I’d delivered my second child ever as a midwife with Pietro at my side.

  Twenty minutes later, I was done and heading to get my hair and makeup done when I was called by our contractor.

  “You’re officially done!” Alex crowed.

  I screamed. “Yes!”

  We weren’t sure if it’d be done in time, seeing as I’d been so nitpicky about everything.

  I’d had to choose the tile, the paint, the stain for the wood floors in the kitchen, cabinets, counter tops.

  I’d wanted to be a huge part of everything, and I was.

  Which annoyed the hell out of Michael.

  He was all for customization, but I didn’t think he knew what he was getting into when he offered me the huge book of paint chips.

  But he knew now.

  “That’s great!” I exclaimed. “What do you need from me?”

  “Nothing. I just dropped it all off at your parent’s place. The keys are yours, my dear!” Alex informed me.

  I smiled. “Wonderful. I’m so happy, thank you so much, Alex.”

  After hanging up, I immediately called Michael.

  “Guess what!” I said, bouncing up and down in excitement. “They finished!”

  Michael’s smooth, deep voice sent shivers through me. “That’s good, baby. He said he’d do it.”

  I closed my eyes and enjoyed the way it felt to listen to his voice.

  The way joy spread through me. The way I couldn’t wait to wrap my arms around him.

  My fiancé and soon to be husband.

  “You catching anything?” I asked after I composed myself.

  “Sun. That’s about fucking it,” he growled. “But that’s the way of it, isn’t it?”

  I agreed. I hated going fishing, just for the sheer fact that we never caught anything.

  Or maybe we would had I any patience.

  “Well, I just wanted to tell you that. Go back to catching your sun,” I said softly, as Pietro made his way into the room with his huge package of bobby pins, hair rollers, and other odds and ends to start fixing my hair.

  “Okay, baby. Love you,” he murmured.

  “Love you more.”

  ***

  The moment I saw him as I walked down the aisle, a smile burst over my lips, and my hand came up to cover my mouth.

  “Oh, my God,” I said, turning to Georgia with wide eyes.

  Her eyes were filled with her own tears of laughter as she caught a look at my man as well.

  “Jesus,” I said, shaking my head. “What the hell is wrong with that man?”

  He wasn’t lying about catching sun.

  He caught a whole lot of it.

  Georgia snorted, and my father gave out a strangled laugh of his own.

  “Let’s get you to him, honey. He’ll think you can’t handle him for better or for worse if you’re not careful.”

  Georgia was the final one to leave, and I was left with my father.

  “You look beautiful, baby,” he said softly.

  I smiled at him, seeing the truth in his eyes.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I told him. “I’ll still see you every Sunday for lunch after mass.”

  He smiled. “I know. You’re just my first little bird out of the nest,” he said, running his hand over my hair and smoothing back a stray curl that’d fallen from a pin.

  “Nico was your first little bird,” I said laughingly.

  He shrugged. “Nico can take care of himself. You’re my first girl. And you’ll no longer have my name. You’re the first bird I’m setting free.”

  Hugging him tightly, I let him go and turned to face the now closed door.

  “Alright, I’m ready,” I said with a nervous sigh.

  “He’ll be good to you, baby. You’ve tamed the beast,” he said before the attendants opened the doors to the church.

  I looked up at him, and I caught the first flash of a camera as it captured the moment forever in time.

  “I know. But he tamed my beast, too. Let’s do this.”

  With a smile, he offered me his arm, and I placed my hand delicately on his sleeve.

  “I love you, papa,” I told him.

  He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Love you too, baby.”

  I could already hear my mother crying, as well as my bridesmaids.

  “Jesus,” my father said in despair. “It’s like an estrogen fest in here. It’s choking me.”

  I brought my flowers up to cover my snorted cough at those words, and turned to face my future husband once again.

  Man, these would be some horrible pictures.

  But I’d cherish them for the rest of my life.

  We finally made it to the end of the aisle, and my eyes connected with Michael’s.

  I barely caught the words as the priest asked the words, “Who gives this woman to this man?”

  My father’s deep voice said, “Her mother and I do,” and suddenly I was in Michael’s arms.

  “Michael,” I said trying not to laugh. “Why wouldn’t you wear any sunscreen?”

  He shrugged, grinning unrepentantly. “I was just worried about which fishing poles I was going to take. Not about anything like sunscreen.”

  I raised a brow at him. “What exactly did you expect to happen?”

  He shrugged and fell silent when the priest started to give us a blessing.

  I looked shyly at the man I was seconds away from pledging my life to, and I knew this would forever be one of the best memories in the world.

  “I love you, Michael,” I said soft enough so that only he could hear.

  “I love you, too,” he replied back, uncaring that the pastor gave him a dirty look.

  He didn’t have anyone to please except me, and the same went for me.

  We no longer wanted to worry about anyone but ourselves and what it would mean to each of us.

  And that’s the way we would do it from now on.

  Nobody needed to know why Michael was tatted up head to toe.

  Because we only lived by one motto now.

  And that was to live and let live.

  ***

  Five hours later

  “Michael! I’m too big!” I yelled as Michael’s hands went around my waist as he opened my door. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  He ignored me, sweeping me up into his arms and walking steadily towards the house.

  “You forgot to close the door to the truck,” I said lightly, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning my head against his face.

  “I’ll get it later,” he murmured.

  “Later…like tomorrow later…or later like later this night later?” I teased. “Because we live in the woods now. There’s no telling what’ll be in the truck come morning.”

  Michael knew I was right.

  He’d had this new house of ours built in the boonies with absolutely nothing around. Literally, the closest Wal-Mart was forty minutes away, if that tells you anything.

  “Fuck,” he growled, turning on his heels and walking back to his truck.

  “You could put me down,” I suggested lightly when a light sheen of sweat started to dot along his brow.

  “I’m fine, Nik. Quit worrying,” he muttered just before slamming the truck door closed with his boot covered foot.

  It slammed closed with a bone shattering thud and he turned on his heel to head back towards the house.

  “You really don’t look fine,” I said laughingly.

  “Nikki,” he gave me ‘the look.’ “I’m fine. I can bench press three hundred and fifty pounds and squat twice that. Trust me, I’m okay.”

  “You can squat seven hundred pounds?” I asked skeptically.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “With your legs?” I countered.

  He shot me a look, and I shut up.

  There was no way he could squat seven hundred pounds. That was unhe
ard of.

  He was in a good mood, though, so I wouldn’t pester him about it…today.

  “How are you going to get the door open?” I asked once he reached the front door.

  A set of keys fell into my lap from where he’d tossed them from his hand across my back.

  “It’s the pink key,” he said, a smile in his voice.

  It was indeed pink. With purple flowers on it.

  I assumed that one was mine, but whatever.

  “Why didn’t we just go in through the garage?” I asked while I unlocked the door.

  He grunted.

  “Because I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold. It doesn’t work the same way if I carry you through the garage,” he muttered, sounding slightly breathless.

  “Okay,” I said slowly, drawing the word out. “Whatever you say, my dear.”

  He pinched my ass just as I swung the door open, causing me to jump and squeak, followed by him cursing.

  “Hurry up and carry me over before you break your back,” I squealed.

  “I’m not going to drop you!” He roared.

  I had to smother a laugh as the moment he walked through the door, he unceremoniously dropped me to my feet and walked off towards the kitchen.

  “Hey!” I said indignantly. “You were supposed to carry me up to our room and ravish me!”

  Wasn’t that how it worked in movies?

  My husband must not have gotten the memo.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, following behind him.

  “To get something to eat. That dinner we supposedly had was shit,” I heard him mutter from in front of me.

  I smiled as I ran my hands over the walls.

  They were beautifully done.

  As were the floors and ceilings.

  We’d gone more ‘home and country’ rather than modern.

  We wanted our house to be warm and inviting, and our contractor accomplished that to a T.

  When I breached the door to the kitchen, I found Michal standing at the fridge with his head stuck in it.

  “We don’t have any food in there,” I muttered. “What do you think you’re going to find?”

  He backed out of the fridge with turkey, cheese, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, and mayo, causing my brows to shoot up to my hairline.

  “Where’d that come from?” I asked in surprise.

  He shrugged.

  “If I had to guess, your parents or mine. Whatever, I don’t care. I’m just glad there’s food. I can’t believe you expected me to live on so little,” he muttered.

  He was right.

  The food we’d had catered had ran out because I hadn’t prepared for the sheer amount of food that all of Michael’s friends would eat.

  Turns out, muscles required about twice the protein of a normal full grown adult.

  Who knew?

  “Make me one?” I asked, pouting my lip for added bonus.

  He gave me a look that clearly said, ‘What do you take me as?’

  So I raised my hands up in a placating gesture and walked around the counter.

  “Love you, Mikey Mike,” I said before kissing his cheek and patting his ass.

  He tossed me another look before kissing my upturned lips.

  “Why do you insist on calling me that all of a sudden?” He asked with amusement.

  I shrugged and circled the counter once again to leave the room.

  “I could call you hubby now, I guess,” I said just as I was leaving the room.

  “That’s not any better!” He yelled at my back.

  I snickered as I made my way around the house, checking to see if everything I wanted was up to par.

  It was.

  The furniture had been delivered while we were getting married, and while the rest of us were celebrating at the reception, my sisters came over here and made the beds, and I assumed brought over a few staples for us.

  God, I loved them.

  Especially when I crossed the threshold of our room and saw the bed already made, ready for my tired body to crawl into it.

  Which was what I did.

  Falling asleep nearly instantaneously.

  ***

  Michael

  “Nikki,” I said, looking around the room for my wife. “Here’s your sandwich….”

  I trailed off as I spotted her curled up around a pillow.

  She had half the comforter covering her, seeing as she was laying on it, causing me to smile.

  Guess I’d be sleeping with the sheet tonight.

  Not that I hadn’t gotten used to it.

  I loved sleeping with Nikki, although she did move a lot.

  I’d had to sleep a few times during the day when she was gone, since I’d had a late shift, and I’d slept like crap.

  Placing the sandwich on the nightstand, I went to the bathroom, stripped out of my police dress blues, and brushed my teeth.

  Turning the light off, I walked slowly to the bed, relishing at the way the new carpet felt between my toes before I flipped off the lamp, tugged the cord at the ceiling fan, and plunged the room into darkness.

  I crawled into bed carefully, as not to wake Nikki, though I shouldn’t have bothered.

  Nothing woke Nikki anymore short of a freight train barreling down on us.

  She slept anywhere.

  In the car.

  In my office chair.

  Halfway through dinner.

  It was actually quite endearing.

  As I settled around her, curling her into my body as best as I could, I closed my eyes and said my prayers. A nightly ritual that I would repeat for the rest of my life.

  Thank you God, for my wife and unborn child.

  Chapter 21

  The only kids I want are Sourpatch.

  -Nikki during the throes of labor

  Nikki

  “Alright, Jasmine. When you feel the need to push, I want you to bear down, bring your knees up to your chest, and push down from your bottom. Almost like you’re doing number…” She held up her hand to stop me.

  Jasmine nodded miserably. “I don’t know why you let me say no drugs. I like drugs.”

  I smothered my smile and started laying out sheets.

  My big ‘ol belly was in the way, but there was nothing I could do about that.

  I’d been a married woman for a little over four months, and I was nine months pregnant.

  Our little girl would be here very soon, and it was times like this, with other women giving birth to their own little miracles, that I started to feel envy for them.

  I felt like I’d been pregnant for forever!

  “I need to poop!” Jasmine yelled in alarm a few moments later.

  I smothered another smile and moved closer to her on my stool.

  “That’s the urge to push. Bare down,” I instructed.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “But what if I…”

  She gestured with her hands.

  I waved a dismissive hand. “Shit happens.”

  She burst out laughing, but then, just as suddenly, she started to scream as she curled around her belly and gave it all she had.

  My own stomach cramped right along with hers.

  “Okay, one more push and the head should be delivered,” I told Jasmine. “Tony, do you want to come catch the baby?”

  Tony shook his head frantically.

  Like all first time fathers, he was a nervous wreck, and anything dealing with childbirth was a very scary ordeal to him.

  “Alright, well it’s up to you, Jasmine. Show me what you got…”

  ***

  Two hours later

  “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I chanted to my phone as I called Michael once I was leaving Jasmine and her newest addition.

  You got my voicemail, leave a message.

  “Fuck!” I said, walking quickly to my car before it happened again.

  ‘It’ being those reg
ular pains that signaled that I, myself, was about to have my own baby.

  I’d been having them on and off all day long, but it’d only been since Jasmine started to push that they began to become regular and consistent.

  At least my water hadn’t broken yet.

  Although, that wasn’t a good indication of progress. There were some women that went all the way up to delivery before their water broke.

  My next call was to Doctor Mead, my OB/GYN.

  Or his office, anyway.

  Although I did have his home number, I’d play the good little in labor mom and call the office like everyone else was instructed to do once they were in labor.

  “”Hello?” A bored woman’s voice came over the speakers in my car.

  “This is Nikki Perez, I’m in labor,” I said a little breathlessly.

  Another pain had consumed me, and I had to pull the car over to avoid wrecking.

  “How do you know you’re in labor?” The woman asked with annoyance.

  I clenched the steering wheel and said through clenched teeth. “Because I’m having regular contractions, and I go breathless each time one hits. Now, relay the message.”

  “What did you say your name was again?” The woman asked snottily.

  The pain finally loosened it’s grip on my uterus, and I started moving forward again.

  I knew I’d get a good two minutes of reprieve, which might get me all the way to the ER before I had another.

  “Nicole Perez, but my maiden name is Pena. Sometimes they have to pull it up underneath that,” I told her, pulling around an old woman going fifty in her maroon Lincoln Towncar.

  “I found it, Dr. Mead isn’t on call today, Dr. Shepherd is. I’ll transfer you to…”

  I interrupted her.

  “No, call Dr. Mead. There should be a note in my chart. My husband refuses to have anyone but Dr. Mead take care of me. Trust me, he won’t let Dr. Shepherd touch me if you call her,” I explained quickly, excited to see the red and blue sign that denoted the emergency entrance of the emergency room up ahead.

  I turned into the lot and parked before the next pain hit.

  “I’ll try, but that’s not protocol. He won’t even answer if it’s not an emergency…”