At This Moment (Of Love and Madness #1)

by Karen Cimms

  Besides, he had a better idea.

  “Go put on some underwear. We’re going out.”

  A few hours later, lying side by side, Kate reread the shiny black letters inked in script along Billy’s ribcage.

  “Does it hurt?” She gently prodded the angry red welts beneath the new tattoo.

  “It’s fine. But it hurt like a sonofabitch while he was doing it.”

  “I thought you were gonna cry,” she teased, laughing at the look he gave her. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I just wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted it to say. Tonight, you helped me figure it out. Now if you ever get it in your head that you aren’t loved or wanted, all you have to do is look here, alongside my heart, right where I keep you.”

  Her smile widened as she read the words again.

  My precious Katie. Always wanted. Always loved. Always adored.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The aroma of fresh-baked bread greeted Billy as he walked through the door. Italian wedding soup simmered on the stove. A third scent, one not so pleasing, accosted him as he continued down the hall and stepped into the living room.

  “Katie?”

  A muffled response came from the baby’s room.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he turned the corner.

  Kate looked down at him from her perch atop the secondhand dresser where she stood to stencil a border on the wall near the ceiling.

  “What do you think?” She waved her arm like Vanna White. “I thought it still looked kinda blah, so I took a walk up to the five and dime. They had this in stock. Isn’t it great?”

  A row of pastel bunnies hopped two-thirds of the way around the room. The towel shifted beneath her feet as she displayed her work.

  “Freeze!”

  “Why?”

  He put an arm out to steady her, then dragged the chair she was using as a step stool closer to the dresser.

  “Get down. Now!”

  “But I’m almost done.”

  “Now!” He held out both arms. “Step down.”

  Grumbling, she leaned forward to hand him the paintbrush. Afraid she would fall, he grabbed her around the legs and lifted her from the dresser to the floor.

  “Christ,” he exclaimed. “How much does that baby weigh?”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “I’ve picked you up plenty of times. You weigh a hell of a lot more now.”

  “Thanks a lot.” She threw her paint rag onto the newspaper covering the floor and planted her hands on her hips. “I have to check on dinner. After that crack, you may not get any.”

  “Have you been climbing up and down on that dresser all day?”

  “No. I told you I went to the store.”

  “How?” He threw his hands up. “You can barely get off the couch.”

  She had the nerve to look affronted. “You really don’t want dinner, do you?”

  “Not at the risk of something happening to you or the baby, no.”

  “I need to finish this,” she insisted.

  “I’ll finish it.”

  When she realized she wasn’t going to win, she explained the process of stenciling in great detail. His eyes began to glaze over before long, so she handed him the brush and went to check on dinner.

  It took less than a half-hour to finish. He tried to be as neat as possible, afraid if she wasn’t satisfied, she’d be back up there the minute he wasn’t looking. After he put the paint away and finished cleaning up, he found her asleep on the sofa, her feet on the coffee table. He smiled at the little trickle of saliva in the corner of her open mouth.

  “Babe?” He trailed a hand across her belly. “You hungry?”

  Kate opened her eyes and yawned. “I have to pee.”

  He laughed as he reached down to help her up. “Those are four words I won’t be sorry not to hear much longer.”

  “You?” She grunted. “I’ll be happier not having to say them.”

  She swayed a little, pressing her hand into her back.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Her nose wrinkled. “Just a twinge in my back.”

  He gave her a stern look. “Why do you think that is?”

  Ignoring his comment, she tugged his over-sized T-shirt over her belly and headed for the bathroom.

  “Want to tell me where you found all this energy?” he asked a few minutes later. He filled their soup bowls and carried them to the table.

  Her eyes lit up. “I think I’m nesting. The books say women start nesting—making everything ready for the baby—right before they go into labor.”

  “Jeez, I hope so.”

  “Why? This getting to be too much for you?”

  “Not at all.” He smiled sweetly. “You’ve been a regular little gift from heaven.”

  “I’d be mad, only I agree.”

  When she was done, she groaned as she pushed herself out of her chair, then put her bowl in the sink.

  “I’ll do the dishes. I just want to see the baby’s room first.”

  “I’ll do the dishes. You’ve done enough nesting for one day. Go look at the room, then put your feet up.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Go!”

  He was putting the leftovers away when she called his name. He mumbled a curse. So the last bunny’s ear was a little too big. It’s not like the kid would even notice. Now he’d probably have to repaint the whole damn room.

  “What?” he asked, coming around the corner, ready to defend his painting skills. Kate stood in the middle of the room, her eyes wide. “What?”

  She pointed to a small puddle on the floor.

  “Oh shit. Did you pee yourself?”

  “No!”

  The look of horror that had crossed his face when he’d thought she could no longer control her bladder shifted into a huge grin. “Seriously?”

  She nodded.

  “Yahoo! I’m calling the doctor.” He galloped down the hall, then rushed back. “Any contractions?”

  “No. Just a backache.”

  When he returned, Kate was on her hands and knees cleaning the floor.

  “Oh, for crying out loud. I’ll do that. Go take a shower.” He helped her to her feet.

  “You ready to be a daddy?” A wide grin split her face.

  He smiled back as he pulled her in for a hug. “Nope.”

  Kate’s contractions didn’t start for several hours. Even then, they were inconsistent. Since her water had broken, Dr. Landry gave her a twenty-four-hour window to deliver and instructed Billy to bring her to the hospital around two in the morning.

  They were given one of the newer rooms designed for both labor and delivery and decorated to look more like a bedroom than a hospital room. It even had a stereo system. Kate brought along a cassette of Glenn Miller’s big band music, somehow convinced the up-tempo beat would “move things along.” It hadn’t, and she was already sick of it.

  “I warned you,” Billy said.

  “I’m not pushing a baby out into the world listening to ‘Highway to Hell’ or ‘Eruption.’”

  He shrugged. “Just saying, the baby probably would’ve come out faster.”

  After the nurse examined her, Kate was even more frustrated.

  “You have a ways to go, honey.” She smiled as she snapped off the latex gloves.

  Kate threw her head back on the pillow.

  “Anything we can do to move it along?” he asked. They had done things repeatedly during the week “to move it along,” but nothing had worked. She looked as if she was about to tell him that she wasn’t in the mood, when the nurse suggested she take a walk.

  Grabbing the side rails, Kate struggled to sit up. “Anything,” she grunted. “I’ll do anything. I feel like I’ve been pregnant for a year.”

  The nurse took her elbow. “I’m sure it feels that way, but trust me, once you hold that little baby, you’ll forget all about this part.”

&nb
sp; Billy slid a pair of flip-flops on her feet and helped her stand.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, reaching for his arm.

  “Me? I’m fine. Why?”

  “It’s late. You must be exhausted.”

  “You think I should take a nap while you do a few laps? Maybe I’ll sleep through the whole thing, and you can wake me in the morning when breakfast is ready.”

  Kate poked him in the ribs. “No, but I feel bad about keeping you awake.”

  “I’m a musician.” He kissed the inside of her wrist. “This is my time of day.”

  They made several laps around the nurses’ station with only one contraction to show for it.

  “This baby is never coming out,” she grumbled.

  It was plain to see she needed to relax. Sex was out of the question, but Billy knew another way. He led her toward the darker end of a corridor.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Be quiet.” He put his arms around her and began to sing as he rocked her back and forth. She rested her check against his chest and closed her eyes. After a while, he could feel her sinking into him. Dancing might not make her labor progress any faster, but it was a nice way to pass the time.

  “I think you’re causing a stir.” Kate planted her chin in his chest and pointed at the nurses’ station. The nurses snapped back to their papers and monitors as if they hadn’t been ogling him.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Ignoring the clucks and sighs coming from across the way, he bent down and kissed her.

  Kate stopped swaying and took a deep breath. “Keep it up, because whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”

  Oh God. He needed a deep breath of his own. “You okay?”

  She nodded, then exhaled slowly. “The contractions are coming more regularly now. Keep dancing. Dance me all the way to the delivery room, if you have to.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  It had been almost two weeks, yet Billy was as much in awe of the miracle of his daughter’s birth as he had been when the nurse first placed her in his arms. He stood over the bassinet watching her sleep. She was so tiny. Once he got over the fear that he might break her, he realized he could cradle her in just the palms of his hands.

  On the bed beside the bassinet, Kate was also asleep. Rhiannon had been fussy, and Kate had been up with her most of the night. So had he, even though Kate had taken her into the other room.

  He’d spent twelve hours holed up in the studio yesterday, waiting for Jake Woodson to show. When he finally did, he was so fucked up his manager ended up canceling the session. This morning, he dragged himself back to Manhattan, fueled on coffee and Ritalin, only to wait another three hours and then get sent home after Woodson’s manager checked him into rehab. At least he’d get paid for the fifteen hours. The rest of the week was a bust.

  He pulled the bedroom door closed. He needed sleep, but was too wired on caffeine and speed to lie down. He needed food, too. Maybe a beer. Something to mellow him out. A couple hits would help, but if he toked up, he’d wake Kate. He wasn’t in the mood for another lecture about smoking weed with a baby in the house.

  Other than a large pot of meatballs and sauce, the refrigerator was almost empty. Someone would have to go grocery shopping, and since he didn’t have functional breasts, it would have to be him. There was a box of spaghetti on the kitchen counter. One of the neighbors must have dropped off the sauce. At least there would be dinner. Maybe later he’d feel like going shopping. Right now, he just needed to chill.

  He set the pot of sauce on the stove to heat, and before long, his mouth was watering from the scent wafting in from the kitchen. Just as he was about to sneak a meatball, there was a loud rap on the front door. Cursing, he hurried to the door. Two burly deliverymen in overalls, with thick, oversized mustaches, stood next to a large item swathed in layers of bubble wrap and moving blankets. The whiff of cheap cigars and sweat was overpowering.

  “Yeah?” His tone suggested they should have thought twice before knocking on his door.

  “We have a delivery for Kate Donaldson,” said one.

  “From who?” He eyed them suspiciously.

  “Is this the right address?”

  “Yeah. I asked who it’s from.”

  The second one looked at his clipboard. “Mrs. Daniels, Belleville.”

  “Swell. What is it?”

  “Some kinda chair.”

  “We have our own chairs.”

  “Look, buddy. I’m the deliveryman, not the interior decorator. I get paid to drop off the chair, not discuss it wit-choo.”

  He spoke as if he was auditioning for a part in West Side Story.

  “What if I refuse it?”

  “Then I leave it in the hallway unless you wanna pay me to take it back.”

  He was considering that option when Kate came up behind him.

  “What’s this?”

  The second man looked at his clipboard. “Delivery for Kate Donaldson. Goldilocks here don’t wanna sign for it.”

  Billy’s hands closed into fists as she forced her way between him and the deliveryman. “I’m Kate.”

  He wasn’t sure if he was angrier with Evelyn Daniels for presuming to send something, the deliveryman for his piss-poor attitude, or Kate for stopping him from decking the sonofabitch.

  “You don’t even know what it is,” he said.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing dangerous. Then again, it’s from my mother. But, I’d rather not stand here and discuss it with these gentlemen, nor do I want to bail you out of jail, so I’ll sign for it.”

  Looking smug, the wise-ass shifted his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. Kate returned the clipboard, then asked if they could bring it inside.

  “Sorry. We just deliver door to door.”

  “Fine with me.” Billy turned away. “Leave it out there for all I care.”

  “Please?” Kate asked. “I just had a baby. I can’t lift it right now.”

  The man softened. “For you? Yeah. And cuz he don’t want it.”

  As the men carried the chair into the living room, Kate rooted through her purse, looking for a tip. She turned to Billy.

  “I didn’t even want them to bring it in.”

  “I’m sorry.” She looked sheepish, and he felt bad about that, but he wasn’t about to tip the sonsofbitches.

  “Don’t sweat it,” the man assured her. “The look on his face was worth it.”

  “What the hell was that about?” Kate demanded after she closed the door.

  “What?”

  “That! Why were you so rude?”

  “I told you. I don’t want anything from your parents, especially after what they’ve done to you. Your father shows up out of the blue, and for some reason they think all is forgiven? Then they send you a flower arrangement when Rhiannon was born, appropriate for the winner of the Kentucky Derby.”

  “Billy—”

  “No!” He couldn’t help raising his voice. “What about the package last week with that baby gown and the hints that we should have her christened there instead of here? You know they’re only trying to look good for their friends. They haven’t even come to see her.”

  “No—but my dad called. They want to come Saturday.”

  He was dumbfounded. “You weren’t gonna tell me?”

  “It was just this morning.” She seemed flustered. “I didn’t say yes or no. I said I needed to talk to you. What are you doing home, anyway?”

  “Fucking Woodson’s in rehab. The whole album’s on hold.” He yanked the elastic from his hair and tossed it on the counter. “What do you wanna do, Katie?”

  “I dunno. I grew up without grandparents. I don’t want that for Rhiannon. She should have the unconditional love of her grandparents. You did.”

  He wanted to scream. These people were nothing like his grandparents. Instead, he threw his hands up in frustration. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. But I guarantee you, I can go down to that courtyard and pick ten strangers
off any of those benches who’d be better grandparents than either of your parents.” He stood in front of the window. “You want grandparents? How about Mrs. Lombardi? The lady who probably made what we’re having for dinner. Or Mrs. Calabrese? She made the afghan the kid’s sleeping under and, if I remember correctly, a pot roast when you came home from the hospital.” Once started, he couldn’t seem to stop. “How about a grandfather, Kate? Every kid needs a grandfather. I loved my grandfather. You don’t think I want that for my kid?”

  Too wired and agitated to calm down, he paced back and forth, then returned to the window.

  “Let’s see.” He searched the courtyard. “I know! Mr. Esposito. Isn’t he the old guy who gives the kids butterscotch and yells if they get too close to the street? Sounds like a good grandpa to me. What about Mrs. O’Brien’s husband? The one who takes his teeth out and chases the kids? Kinda creepy, but okay for a grandfather. Pick one, Kate. Hell—pick four! Rhiannon is entitled to at least four grandparents.”

  Kate was looking at him, stunned.

  “I’m sorry.” He folded his arms in front of his chest and tried to calm down. “I don’t trust them, and I don’t want them to hurt you again.”

  “I see you’re upset. It’s just that—”

  He signaled for her to stop. “Do what you want. It’s your decision. But I swear, they hurt my daughter, then I call the shots, understand?”

  A low mewling came from the bedroom. Kate turned to go, but he stopped her. He pulled out the kitchen shears instead. “I’ll get her. Go open your present.”

  By the time he had calmed Rhiannon and changed her diaper, Kate had stripped several layers of bubble wrap from an ornate Victorian wicker rocker. It had serpentine arms and a highly detailed back with carved rosettes and fancy wooden beadwork.

  She was gushing. “It was my great-grandmother’s. She rocked my grandmother in it, and my grandmother rocked my father, and my mother rocked me.”

  He felt a flush of embarrassment at his earlier tirade, but it didn’t change his feelings about Kate’s parents, in spite of the gift, which was probably an expensive antique. Although, honestly, it was hideous.