I hate that he feels the way he does about life in general. I know he thinks that he’s right—that every woman out there is just like our mother and Sarah Jane was. But I can’t help but pray that, one day, I can prove him wrong. That, one day, I can meet a woman who will show him just how fulfilling it would be to give yourself to someone completely.
One day, I vow. One day, I’ll make that happen.
CHAPTER 28
Chelcie
I’m so nervous. I keep running every possible scenario over in my mind. Asher will either decide to keep going down this dark path that I’m not sure my ‘light’ will be able to keep him safe on. Or he will turn it all over to the authorities, guaranteeing that dirty bastard spends the rest of his life in jail.
My stomach has been in knots all morning, I wasn’t able to eat breakfast, and I even threw up a few times. My nerves are completely shot to hell. I know Asher is worried about me, and I hate that because his mind shouldn’t be focusing on me right now. But no matter what I do, I can’t seem to turn off the overwhelming sense of dread that is hanging over me like a thick blanket. A thick blanket of doom. I hate it.
“Sunshine, please try and eat something before we head over to CS. I don’t like how upset you are.”
“I’ll eat when we leave, okay? I might feel better by then.” It’s worth a try.
He looks at me, trying to gauge where my mind is right now. I give him a weak smile and try my best to act normal.
“All right. If you’re sure, I’m going to grab a shower before we head in.”
He leans in and gives me one of those sweet kisses, holding his warm lips against my cold forehead and rubbing his large hand over my belly a few times.
When I hear the shower turn on, I let out the breath I was holding. Fuck, I’m a mess. And it doesn’t help that my back has been killing me all week—ever since I went on a nesting frenzy and cleaned every inch I could reach of the apartment. Then I spent an even longer time working in Zac’s nursery. We purchased all of his furniture and got it all up—ready to go. It’s a room fit for a prince. Well, it’s a room fit for a prince if he decides that he wants to play sports when he gets older. Asher had so much fun picking out the bedding and décor for his room that I gladly went with the theme he wanted.
He and Beck painted the walls a warm tan color that complements the dark hardwood floors perfectly. We got some warm cream rugs to place on the floor and one large baseball-shaped one for the center of the room. He hung up the three large letters that spelled Zac’s name on the wall last night, finally completing the room.
We had two large, cherry wood bookshelves that were already full of different sports memorabilia, books, and stuffed animals. After a very long shopping trip with Dee, Zac’s closet is now stuffed with more clothes than a newborn baby could ever need. Hell, I’m pretty sure he has more clothes than both Asher and I have combined.
I wander down the hall and open the door to his room. I smile when I see all of the small touches that Asher picked out himself. From the baseball-shaped beanbag seat that is definitely something Zac won’t need for a few years, to the tiny football mobile that hangs above his crib, and my personal favorite, the framed photo of Coop that sits proudly on his dresser, facing his crib.
I feel my heart melt when I think about how happy Asher was when he placed that picture there. He set it down, stepped away, and considered its location in the room then moved it a few more times. Each time, he would circle the room and see what kind of view our son would have of his birth father.
After closing the door silently, I make my way down the hall and into our bedroom to get dressed. Asher called the guys late last night and asked that they all meet us there at noon. All I can do now is hope that, at the end of the day, whatever is meant to happen does. I selfishly pray that the day ends with Asher turning over all of his evidence on Dominic Murphy.
Asher is in the middle of shaving when I walk into the bathroom, dressed and almost ready to go. I decided to go for comfort today. At this point in my pregnancy, comfort is really all that matters, and with my nerves already going haywire, I need every advantage I can get. I have some loose-fitting maternity jeans, one of Asher’s old USMC sweatshirt that still hangs large on my body—even with my expanding belly—and my favorite pair of worn Chucks.
“Damn, you look hot in my clothes.” He reaches down to adjust himself, and I smile when I see the thick budge in his jeans.
“These days, your clothes are the only things that fit. I guess it’s time for me to go get some more fat-girl clothes.” I sound like a brat. I don’t mean to, but I’ve been struggling with the new—wide—version of my body.