by H. J. Bellus
“No.” She points a finger in my face. “You are not going to be one of those overbearing crazy-ass men who suffocate their pregnant wi—”
Her last word dies on the tip of her tongue. I smirk at her near slip-up and then add to it.
“Watch me. I will be that husband who mother hens the hell out of you, and you won’t be able to stop me.” I stand and turn, going for the door. “Be back with food.”
“Liam!” she hollers. I’ll also be ignoring her.
I decide on whipping up her favorite comfort food. A combination I’ve always found disgusting. I sprinkle a handful of chocolate chips on the peanut butter sandwich before slapping the bread on top. I warm up leftovers for me and carry them back to the bedroom.
Justice is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, reading on her Kindle. She’s deep in study, not hearing me enter the room. I peer over her shoulder to see the title of the e-book “What To Expect When You’re Expecting.”
Goddamn, our lives are about to change, and I couldn’t be happier. I’ll admit I’m scared out of my mind. I’ve always been up for adventure, and raising a family with her is going to be the best to date.
I lean down, kissing the top of her head and running my hands over her shoulders. “You’ll be a great mom. The best ever. Now let’s eat dinner.”
19
Justice
I woke up after having one of the best night’s sleeps I’ve had in a very long time. I know it had to do with the man who was holding me. I needed to get up, but admiring the muscles of the man whose arms were around me was much more important.
The bedding was covering only the bottom half of Liam’s body. I could have stared at his chest all morning. I studied the rise and fall of his chest, his messy hair that screamed to be touched. His defined pecs as they flexed with the way he had them stretched over his head. My mouth went dry and my legs quivered. It was in the instant when my eyes scanned up his body to his beautiful face and lingered at his dark five-o’clock shadow and his incredibly carved jaw, then moving back down past his parted lips to see his heart beating through his chest that I realized how badly I wanted this baby to be a girl.
My fingers itched with extra energy to wake him and tell him why. Seeing this strong, talented, and loving man with our little girl has the power to bring me to my knees. We both have strong father role models in our life, and the example Liam would be for a daughter melts me.
Even though I’m not far along, I can’t wait to see what our child will look like. A beautiful combination of the best of us. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it at all; my heart, though, is fully invested.
I lay there and studied him for a bit longer before deciding I had to get up to use the bathroom so bad my bladder started to hurt, screaming and crying in protest.
And now, after Liam bringing me to work, securely walking me to my office and planting my butt on the couch, I sit here waiting for my family, so we can put an end to this chapter in our story and move on to Liam’s. Mostly, though, I’m nervous to tell my dad, and not for the reasons one would think if they knew the real Cain Bexley.
“I would have thought you’d want to spend the day with Liam, since it’s his day off,” Jonathan quips. His eyes laser in on the magazine of baby NFL apparel in my lap as he enters before my parents. I fold the page, close it up, and give him a stern look that screams ‘shut up.’ Jonathan’s gaze darts to my stomach and back to my face. I give him another look to underline my meaning before training my attention on my dad.
“He’ll be back to pick me up in a little bit; I have something to tell you all first.”
“Did you receive another gift?” Dad asks. His words of concern were not met to trip the livewire fizzling around in my head, except it does.
He crosses the room and picks up the wrapped box on the table in front of me, while I fight against letting him know how panic-stricken I am that whoever is stalking me could take something away I never knew I wanted.
“No, that’s for you.” My words are rushing out, smiling as I vision the man I know. He’s futile at best, yet warm and loving only to the ones close to him.
“Open it.” I glance at my mom, who already has tears forming in her eyes; she leans into my brother, who wraps his arm around her. I want to run to her and thank her for being the queen of this family and showing us the true meaning of love.
I run my hands down my legs, finding the softness of my leggings comforting. It’s funny how yesterday when I was getting dressed, I paid no attention how tight my pants fit, yet this morning when I went to put a pair on, I could barely fit them over my ass; and fastening the button was out of the question. It was probably a figment of my imagination, but still, I wanted to be comfortable, so I shrugged them off and opted for these.
Nerves flood my veins, my mind spins, and my heart feels like it might cave as I watch him lift the lid and give a long, fixated look at the T-shirt.
“Jesus, I was right. This isn’t a joke, is it?” Cain Bexley, my hero, the man who doesn’t cry, who doesn’t show his soft side to many people, is on the verge of tears.
My lips quiver and my heart stutters as I watch my dad, who can unravel quicker than anyone I know, place his hand on the top of my mom’s when she rests it on his shoulder.
“No. I would never joke about this. I didn’t find out until yesterday. It wasn’t planned. I want this baby more than anything, Dad. I want my child to know his or her grandparents. This baby is going to love you as much as I do.” I dig the pads of my fingers into my soft leggings.
He says nothing as he lifts the shirt out, tosses the box back on the table, and places it on his lap.
“Future Idaho Diamonds Fan,” he quietly reads the script on the newborn shirt.
It looks incredibly tiny across his big body. It looked even tinier in the window when Liam and I walked by the gift shop this morning and the thought of buying these for our dads occurred to me. I can’t say why I thought to do it this way was better than telling them, but when my dad lifts his head and the man who raised me, who protected me all my life and is still protecting me now, sheds a tear, I glance up to Mom with misty eyes telling her it was worth it. So, so worth it.
“This is why you were acting all weird last night, wasn’t it, Calla? You know I hate secrets. This one I’m glad you kept from me. Thank you for letting her tell me.” God, the man makes me want to cry.
“I love you, Dad. You’ve given me everything. You made it possible for me to have the courage to go after Liam, and this child”—I stutter over my words, the emotions clogging my throat—“means everything to us.”
I’m pressing the emotional tear button frantically to stop myself from crying. I love this man more than anything. He is generous. I don’t have to seek his approval or worry if he’s going to be angry with me even though in most circumstances I do, but never over something like this.
Last night, I made myself sick with worry about protecting my child, especially with the possibility of danger. I’ll second-guess every move I make until the sick asshole or assholes are caught. The thing is, I’m my father's daughter, and as much as I despise it, I’m more like him than I realize. I’ll fight and kill someone to protect my flesh and blood. No questions asked.
Dad clears his throat. The rare emotions he shows us are shining through. “One day, your mom had to go somewhere. I stayed home with you. Life at the time was chaotic. Whatever was going on, we didn’t want you in danger, so between the two of us and your grandparents, we kept you home. You weren’t even walking yet, but you were teething something fierce. Alina assured me you would be fine. Being the man I am, I hated it. God, it ripped my heart to fucking shreds that I couldn’t stop you from crying and fussing. I put on some music and danced with you. You stopped crying and fell asleep on my chest. When the music stopped playing, I kept swaying with you in my arms. I didn’t want to disturb you; you hadn’t slept for more than an hour in over twenty-four hours. When your mom came home, she we
nt to take you so she could feed you. You started crying again, reached your arms out to me, and spoke your first word."
Dad wipes his eyes.
“Dada.” I finish the sentence for him.
He nods solemnly with a big grin on his face. Pride.
I can barely see his eyes crinkle at the corners through my blurred vision. There are many things I want to say, and yet I sense he isn’t done telling me his story.
He’s right; I don’t remember. There are many other happy times I remember about my father. He was always one of those fun parents who spun me around by my arms until I was dizzy and giggling when my head would feel funny and my stomach woozy. I always fell to the ground, and he would tumble down next to me. It was a process we repeated often.
Again, Daddy!
And he would.
I remember when I came rushing through the door one day from school and showed him the note for the father-daughter dance. He looked down at me and said he’d go, but he wasn’t wearing a tie, and yet when he knocked on my bedroom door to get me, his tie matched my pink dress. I ran into his arms and hugged him tightly. No matter how hard and rough he was, he was always gentle and kind with me. Soft even during the times when I was being punished. He also was the first man to give me flowers, the man who made me love pink roses. I thought I would hate them after my stalker had sent them to me. I don’t. I won’t allow it. Nothing and no one will take away my precious memories of my dad.
“I can’t explain how I felt when you spoke any better than saying that was the best word I had heard in my life. You were mine, Justice. My innocent, sweet little girl. And up until today, there wasn’t any other word I loved hearing more. I can’t wait to hear your child call me grandpa. The day you and John were born, those were one of the happiest days of my life. You had a ton of hair similar to my own. Your nose was small and shaped just like your mother’s. You had pouty lips. Small fingers that curled around my finger. You turned my world upside down in the best way possible. My daughter, who never let go of my hand. Not even when you moved here. You’ve let go of it now, and that’s okay. I watched you, sweetheart. Watched you suffer in your pain, and it tore chunks out of my soul not to help you find your way back to Liam. It killed me when I held your mom after I told her we were not interfering and you’d find your way. You did it. You found your path. And I’m fucking proud of you. So damn honored to have you call me your dad.”
I adore this man. Somewhere deep inside of me, I find the strength not to burst into tears, not until he gets up, sits beside me, and takes hold of my hand.
“My little girl is going to be a mother. Fucking hell,” he mutters, causing me to laugh through my impending tears.
“Frightening, right?” I place my head on his shoulder.
“No. If I were you, I’d be frightened for Liam. I’m going to beat his ass.”
I roll my eyes. “Only after the season, Dad.”
His laughter vibrates against my body, and even though there’s still a lingering threat, I know everything is going to be okay.
I’d love nothing more than to sit on his lap and curl into him. I’m comfortable right here, even more so when Mom wipes her eyes and sits on my other side. Jonathan, who is exactly like our dad, sits next to her.
This man who holds me in his arms is the reason why I want a daughter. There is nothing better than the bond between a daughter and her dad. I want that for Liam more than anything.
20
Liam
“Your dad still doesn’t like me.”
Jesus. It’s too damn bad the crowded interstate doesn’t have room for me to pull over and calm her shit. Better yet, some hidden spot on a dirt road would be nice, so I can fuck the worry right out of her pretty mind.
“He doesn’t hate you, for the hundredth time. Calm your shit.” I take hold of her hand where she’s strumming her fingers nervously on the console and give it a reassuring squeeze.
“It’s just—”
I cut her off before she can continue finishing her sentence. “I told you I haven’t had time to talk to him. He’s silent when he’s around the stadium, and before you go off again on how you’ve connected with Mom and Rowe, but my dad still hates you, think about this. You don’t hear me complaining about not being able to sit around and talk with your family. I wasn’t flipping out when you told your dad, even though he’s threatened me twice. You're talking nonsense.” I’m going to love watching the baby grow inside of her, but shit, she’s an emotional wreck already.
“You ass, my family loves you.” Justice reaches over and slaps my chest. “It’s not all easy when you men are all testosterone driven and barking over a game.”
“You are freaking out over nothing, babe. There’s nothing else I can tell you to ease this.” I flip on the blinker and take the exit toward the foothills to my parents’ home and make a mental note in all caps to see if there’s a book on how to not lose your mind over a pregnant woman’s crazy talk.
She doesn't have a thing to worry about, yet she is. About driving me nuts sitting over there fraying those tight-as-fuck legging things or whatever the fuck women call them.
I’ll never figure out why she’s so insecure when it comes to my dad. I can only chalk it up to him being silent and only talking when he needs to. When it’s come to her and me, he’s only ever offered support to me, basically kicking me in the ass. I debate on telling her it was my dad who told me to forgive and not bring up the past, but I keep that to myself. It’s a sacred moment between my family and me, one that propelled me in the right direction of life. A moment I’ll never forget.
She fidgets with the damn wrapped package all the way up the winding steps to my parents’ funky-ass colored home to the point it drives me nuts, so I take it from her hands. She goes to knock on the door, but I catch her wrist before she has the chance to.
Her tiny wrist easily fits in my palm. “Stop. Be you. Where’s the confident woman I know? They’ve always loved you just as I have.”
I bend down, kissing the top of her head, and then open the door. The scent of Mom’s homemade lasagna nearly knocks me on my ass. Today’s grueling practice and the constant worry in the back of my mind about Justice’s stalker has had me exhausted and wrung out. I’ve never look forward to a bye week more than I am the one coming up. Christ, I need it, and so does she.
“Justice, come look at this.” Rowe frowns as she looks from me to Justice. “What did you do to her, asshole?” She snatches her hand and has her trailing down the hallway before I can get a word out.
“I haven’t done a thing.” Christ, it’s a wonder the population is as large as it is if this is how every pregnancy goes.
I’m left standing with a silver wrapped package finished off with light blue ribbon, all the while my parents are staring at me. Mom's lips are trembling; Dad’s looking at me like I’ve done something wrong. High emotions are all around me. We’re having a baby, not moving to China, and yet here I am starting to experience some of the panic Justice felt earlier. Like I’ve been called down to the principal's office, and even though I’ve done nothing wrong, I’m sweating bullets. My fingers dig into the package, sweat breaks out on my brow, and I think I’m going to puke. Even after all the safe sex talks, the ‘you’re going to be in the spotlight and we all know men think with their dick’ talks. Jesus, how old am I again?
It’s not until my mom pats my dad on the back that I ease a bit. Justice and Rowe come back from wherever they went. Justice is at my side, and the world seems alright. Yet it’s not.
I take a seat at the table instead of heading into the kitchen and raiding the fridge scouring for the leftovers from the night before. Dad picks up on it right away.
“What’s going on?” His fingers clench tightly around the longneck beer bottle.
“You are in so much trouble,” Rowe sings out, picking up on Dad’s voice.
Ironically enough, it’s Justice who takes over. Funny how I’ve been calming her down, but now at
this moment when I’m staring my father in the eye, I’m ready to bolt.
“We have something for you. First, though, me being busy is no excuse for not talking to you sooner. I’d like to apologize to you for running off all those years ago.” Justice nudges the package across the table.
“Apology accepted.” Her sigh is the only reason I don’t nudge her under the table and have her look at me, so I can tell her I told you so.
Dad quirks an eyebrow before dragging the package closer to him. The ass takes his time unfolding the edges of the wrapping paper, winding me up more. He used to do this on Christmas morning. Told us it was the best way to learn how to be patient. It didn’t work then, and it isn’t working now.
Justice briefly glances my way, my eyes telling her this is his way. She’ll see what I mean come the holiday season. The man is quick on his toes but slow as fuck with everything else.
When I glimpse back up, Mom and Rowe are hovering over him. He picks through the tissue paper before pulling out the tiny shirt. I watch as he reads the same words Justice’s family did. He tilts his head to one side then the next before his eyes go glassy. He doesn’t say a word, and I know exactly why. Rowe is reading the same message over his shoulder. She gets out each word, then strings them all together, completing the phrase.
“Wow, wait.” She throws up two fingers. “One, that is too small for me; and two, I’m already a Diamonds fan.” Goddamn, I love her. Doesn’t have a clue about the tension coursing through my veins, and yet she says the right thing to settle me down.
I chuckle as I watch Mom lean over and whisper in her ear. I can’t hear what she says. Have a clue, though, and I’m right when I notice the moment Rowe understands the meaning that’s meant for Dad and not her. She slaps a hand over her mouth, remaining silent. Mom more than likely added on that she needs to wait for Dad to speak.
