by Shyla Colt
“I know. It’s just the whole labor thing.”
“Remember, our breathing exercises and the classes this month should help.”
“Oh?” Warren glances from one to the other.
“We’ve been watching videos to prepare.”
“Is he going to be in the room when you’re in labor?” Warren’s voice raises.
“I sure as hell hope so.”
“I’ll be there no matter what, sweetheart.”
Her shoulders relax, and I kiss the side of her head.
“I just figured Rochelle would be there.”
“I love my best friend, but we both know she gets queasy at the sight of blood. I can’t be worried about her passing out when I’m trying to push out a watermelon.”
“Okay, enough descriptive language.” Warren makes a cutting motion across his neck.
“Big baby,” she mumbles, walking into the kitchen.
“You sit. I’ll serve. It’s your birthday, after all,” I say, pulling out her chair.
“That’s his nice way of saying, ‘you’re super pregnant, get off your feet’.”
“I like this guy already,” Warren says.
“Good, ’cause I plan to be around.” We lock gazes, and he gives a slight nod of respect.
Once Faye is seated, I set the tossed salad and garlic bread on the table before returning for the lasagna.
Warren inhales deeply. “It smells amazing.”
“Mmm-hmm. When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal?” Faye points her fork at him.
“Last week,” he answers.
“Oh?”
“Uh, yeah.” He smiles.
“Why do I get the feeling this was not at Mom’s house?” She continues to prod him as he dishes up some salad.
“Well, it was just Riley and me.”
“From the pet store? I freaking knew it!” Faye dances in her chair
“What? Friends can’t eat together?” Warren asks lamely.
“The looks you two exchanged were not of the ‘let’s be friends’ variety. The two were mooning over each other under the pretense of picking out Monty.”
“What? You love my nephew,” Warren protests.
“I do. But I’m also not blind. Maybe I should start butting into your love life.”
“God. Please don’t.” He shakes his head.
“Oh, is Mom after you?”
“Like a bloodhound after a scent.”
“The usual I want grandchildren before I’m too old?” Faye snorts.
“Never mind that she’s about to have one in less than two months.” Faye balks. “Shit. I am so sorry, Faye.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I know they’re your parents, so forgive me, but they’re being right assholes.”
“Hey, no arguments here. I don’t support the way they’re handling things. I’ve been trying to talk to them.”
“Or supplying that slimy git with information.” I tighten my hold on the fork.
“Maybe if you introduced him, they’d ease up?” Warren suggests.
She sniffs. “I shouldn’t have to.”
“No, but right or wrong, it might bring in some peace. It’s rotten being so disjointed. That’s never been us.”
I watch Faye shrink into herself. Anger flares in my belly.
“It’s not up to her to make it right. She has her hands full preparing for the baby, and Preston is a fucking creep.”
Warren blinks up at me. I lean over and kiss Faye’s cheek. “It’s your birthday, sweetheart, let’s enjoy the night. Why don’t you tell him some of your thoughts on Flora’s middle name?”
Warren gives a quick nod of understanding, and works to shift the tone that had settled over the room.
“I was thinking Magnolia for our grandmother’s favorite flower, or Violeta.”
I let her voice wash over me as the sorrow becomes a thing of the past. The closer she gets to giving birth, the more the family discord bothers her. I want to help, but it feels like her parents are in Preston’s back pocket. Clearing away the table, I bring out the cake with the fancy opening flower candle that spins.
She claps her hands. “I love it.”
We sing a round of happy birthday, and she blows them out. The knock on the door makes me frown.
“Are you expecting anyone else?” Warren asks.
“No.”
“I’ll get it. Enjoy your cake.”
Peering out the door, I frown at the man dressed in a suit before I answer it.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m looking for Faye Ferguson.” I see the manilla envelop in his hand.
“One moment please.” I return to the kitchen
“Who was it?”
“Someone with a delivery you need to sign for.”
“Oh?”
Warren frowns as I help her up and follow her back to the front door. She signs for the envelope, and he walks away. Opening it, she lets out a wail.
“He can’t do this.” Her eyes tear up as she sways.
I grab her to keep her on her feet as Warren kneels to pick up the discarded papers. “Preston is taking her to court for full custody.”
Of course the son of a bitch waited to have it delivered on her birthday.
Chapter Four
Faye
“I assume you got my paperwork?”
I exhale. He was probably waiting by the phone for the fallout he knew he caused. Sitting on the side of my bed, I rest my head against the headboard. James sits beside me, holding my hand as I fight to keep my voice neutral. He gets off on reactions. The best thing I can do for negotiations is to not give him a response.
“Why are you doing this, Preston? I was willing to work out a fair, partial custody agreement. We could split things between us equally.”
“Why? So, you and the dog doctor can raise my daughter? No.”
“This has nothing to do with him.”
“Doesn’t it? You’ve changed since you got together.”
I grip the phone harder. Lashing out will only make this worse. “Do you really want to go to court?”
“No. Which is why I’m giving you a choice.”
“What?” My stomach aches. I know where he’s going.
“End things with the pretty boy Brit, and this can all go away.”
“What the hell, Preston?”
“Those are my terms.”
“No.”
“Then, I’ll see you in court. Though I would ask yourself what court would choose you over me when I can hire a slew of nannies, place her in private school, and give her the best of everything? You don’t even have a house. You rent a condo.”
His words feel like nails in a coffin. I don’t even know how I’d scrape together enough to hire a lawyer.
“Think about what’s most important to you.” He disconnects.
And just like that, he’s back in control of everything.
“What did he say?”
I shake my head, unable to repeat it. “I need some time, James.”
“No. Don’t let him place a wedge between us.”
“I have a lot to think about. Please.” Closing my eyes, I massage my temples.
“Okay. Shhh.” He places light kisses all over my face. “Don’t stress.” He massages my scalp, and I lean into him. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I’m not leaving you after getting news like that.”
Why does he have to be so damn perfect? Men like James don’t come around every day. He’s the kind of father I’d want for Flora. The thought of continuing this pregnancy without him literally makes me ill. But none of that matters if I lose Flora. Does the fact that I’m thinking about this make me a shit mother? Children always come first. I grip him tightly. I need one more night to say good-bye to the man who’s become my heart. Pulling away, I nip at his bottom lip.
“Make me forget, James. Just for tonight.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not sure that’s a good—”
/>
“I’m ready. I want to be connected with you.”
He cups my face. “Faye.”
“It’s my birthday. This is what I want as my present.”
“Low blow.”
I smile up at him and poke out my bottom lip.
“Okay, that’s it.” He tickles my sides lightly, and I laugh. A night of joy and total completion before the happiness I’ve built is destroyed. I shove my baggage in the attic of my brain and fully immerse myself in the present. Kissing my forehead, he leans back. “Better?”
“With you, it always is, James.”
“You don’t have to lay it on so thick, sweetheart. You’re already getting into my pants.” He winks.
“I wish I was more mobile,” I whisper.
He nuzzles my neck. “I like it when my woman rides me.”
I climb into his lap and hook my arms around his neck, falling into the dark green gemstones he calls eyes. The adoration and desire are there for all to see. I love how open and honest he’s been with me. I run my hands through his thick hair and squeeze my thighs together as I grind against him. He grunts his appreciation and grasps my hips, rocking upward. Sparks sizzle their way up my body.
“Come here.” I bend down, and he captures my lips in a bruising kiss. We kiss, teeth clashing and lips swelling, pausing to suck in air as we make love with our mouths. I feel like my soul is about to leave my body as all the emotions I’ve developed spill over into our mouth mating. We shed our clothes, baring our bodies like we are our souls. I’m wet and throbbing as he lays on his backs, and I grip his base. Our eyes lock as his wet tip pierces my core. I slowly ease down.
“You’re so big,” I moan as he works deeper, inch by inch. Pressing my palms flat on his chest, I grip him with my thighs and lower myself farther.
“Let me in, sweetheart. Relax, and let me fill you up. That’s it.”
I gasp as he pushes as deep as he can get. I can feel him pulsing inside of me like a heartbeat. I flex, and he groans.
“Are you ready for more, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
He thrusts up, and I cry out, taking everything he has to give. We move together, finding a steady rhythm. He changes me, chasing away the darkness as he fills the empty spot inside of me with blazing light. I let go as we come together, skin slapping, bodies writhing. He hits the spot inside of me that makes me see stars. I clamp down around me.
“That’s it.”
Picking up the pace, we race toward completion. My head spins, and my body tingles as the coil inside of me snaps, and I cry out, shaking as I convulse around him. He pumps a few more times before he explodes, flooding me with his heat. I slump onto his chest, spent, complete, and already mourning his loss. Rolling us onto our side, he strokes my hair, kissing me softly. His eyes are the last thing I see as I drift off to sleep, mindful of the fact that I’m lying to myself. Giving him up won’t be simple or easy.
“I KNOW YOU’RE NOT UP for a lot of walking outside of work, but I found something you’d enjoy that we could do sitting down.”
I smile at James over the console of his car. Today’s my day off, and we’re actually venturing out into the world for a date. Lately, we’d spent the snowy days bundled up in front of a fire, but with my pregnancy nearing its end, these would be the last few times we had alone.
“Why are you so good to me?”
“Because you deserve it.” He lifts my hand up and kisses it.
It’s been two weeks since the papers were dropped off at my home. We’ve poured over lawyers, calculating fees, and researching reputations. He doesn’t need to tell me it’ll destroy my nest egg. But the other choice is the last resort. My stomach sours at the thought of ending things with the man helping me mend my heart and relearn how to trust the opposite sex.
“Is this a surprise, or are you going to give me details?”
“It’s The Clay Bakers. I thought we could paint something for Flora.”
“I’d love that.” Sitting up straight, I place my hands on the small of my back and rub. It won’t be too long before I start maternity leave. Nursing could be a sport with all the steps, and heavy lifting required. Doing it off balance and carrying weight is even more difficult.
“You feeling okay?”
“Yep, just the usual back pain.”
“I’ll rub you down when we’re done.” His hands have been a magical pain reliever. Sitting on the couch while he worked the kinks out of my back and massaged my feet has become a new form of foreplay.
“You keep spoiling me like this, and I won’t let you leave the house.”
“I’d be okay with that.” His voice deepens, and I lean across the car to squeeze his thigh.
“I bet you would.”
“Don’t tease, or we won’t make it to the shop.”
“Promises.” I remove my hand, knowing he means every word. I never thought I’d enjoy sex this far along in my pregnancy. Things with Preston were never so sensual. James took his time and made sure I got mine first. I understood now what it meant to be cherished.
“It’s so cute.” The white brick building has two large display buildings and a green sign with a ceramic cup full of art tools. Brightly colored plates line the windows. I fight the urge to press my face to the glass as I climb down and walk forward. The light coral colored paint around the window is highlighted by white trim that reminds me of the beach. Black wrought iron tables and chairs sit outside.
“This would be a perfect place to sit during warm weather.”
“I’ll have to bring both of my girls back then.”
His girls. I’d always resisted any sort of claim with Preston. I wanted to make things even down the board. James didn’t wake that desire in me. It was the man, not the money, that made the difference. Owning his office, he made more than I could ever hope to, even with overtime. But there was no sense of inequality or being lorded over. Preston was my first serious relationship. There were a lot of things I hadn’t known to look out for.
We step inside and find ourselves a table. A petite redhead with freckles greets us.
“Hi, I’m Poppy, and I’ll be helping you. We usually have everyone start off by picking their piece to paint and the colors. Just write down your numbers, and I’ll check back to get you started.”
“Thanks, Poppy,” James says. Her cheeks pinken.
I duck my head to hide my smile. Girl, I get it.
“Look at that flower bank. It’ll go good with our theme.” We decorated the walls in Flora’s room with a garden theme. The walls were vinyl stickered with vines, flowers, and cute animals. James said it reminded him of an English garden. We’d left a space for her first and middle name. Once I chose it.
“That’d be really cute.”
“If you’re making something for the baby, you might consider decorating a platter you can add their foot and handprint to later.”
“That’s such a sweet idea.”
“Plate it is,” James says with a chuckle.
“No, you can do what you want to.”
“I’d rather work on one piece with you for Flora.” His voice grows soft, and he gets the gentle expression I’ve come to adore.
Could he come to love her like she was his own? Would we be given that chance to find out?
“Let’s do it.”
Choosing shades of yellows, greens, and a bit of pink, we use stencils to wind vines around the plate’s edges before going back in to add flowers for pops of color.
“Should we do her name in sage green?” James asks.
“Yes. I’ll let you choose the lettering stencil.”
The painting is therapeutic, and my back thanks me for sitting. Flora lounges on my bladder once more. “You handle the name. I need to visit the little lady’s room.”
“At least she waited until after we were done.”
“You always take her side.” I pout, and he chuckles.
“I’m Switzerland. I don’t take sides.”
/> After making my way to the restroom in the back of the building, I do my business and wash my hands. My purse vibrates. Drying my hands, I lift the phone, expecting it to be Warren.
Preston: Tick tock. I see you haven’t taken me seriously. I’m in town and willing to talk ... for now.
He’s not going to let this go. Ignoring him has done nothing.
Preston: Maybe you need a little motivation.
The phone chimes. A document link flashes on the screen. I double-tap, and the blood drains from my face at the list of cons his lawyer has made about me. My stomach cramps with each line. My home situation, the daycare I’d be forced to use, and my inability to properly split custody from Maryland. The suggestion that I relocate jars me. Can he get away with this? Past experience says yes. The best I can do now is damage control.
Faye: When and where?
The words are a betrayal to the man who deserves so much more. I return to the table.
“What happened?” James asked, instantly picking up on my new mood.
“Can we go home?”
“Of course. I’m all done here. Let me check out.”
I nod, glancing down at the hands in my lap. How can I do this? The ride home is quiet as I try to absorb every second I have left with him.
“Are you ready to tell me what happened back there?” he asks as we walk up to my front door.
I unlock the door and step inside, turning to face him.
“James.” I study the face of the man who’s become my best friend and brace myself for the pain. I turn to him.
“Don’t.” He shakes his head.
“I have no other choice.”
“There is always a choice, Faye.” He cups my cheek with his right hand. “I know how much you love Flora. You made it clear from the start that she comes first. All I’m asking from you is time.”
“I’ve run out of that. He texted me a portion of his lawyer’s argument for full custody, and it doesn’t look good.”
“Then, we fight.”
“He said he’d negotiate. It’s a better option.”
His jaw tenses and he let his hand drop. “I promised you I wouldn’t leave you to do this alone, and I meant it. Don’t make me a liar.”
My eyes well, and I choke on a sob. “James.”
