Live Wire (Ramsey Security #2)

For whatever reason, I never expect Brad to marry me. His family is non-conventional, and I assume we will live together in blissful sin forever. Instead, he pops the question during an early dinner at a nearly empty restaurant. I should have known something was up when I noticed how nervous he seemed despite the lack of a crowd. I will always laugh about his anxiety. As if in any universe, I'd say no.

Since Brad and I lack friends, poor Rafael is forced to play both the father of the bride and best man at the wedding. I have plenty of bridesmaids though.

Brad insists we meet more people, but we never do. Years later when we have kids, we still keep to ourselves. Pretending to be normal people is another lie in a life where I've told too many of them.

The day I find out that I'm pregnant, Brad begins planning renovations to the house. He wants more space on our end for the baby. Watching him organize things, I smile at his excitement. My own feelings regarding a child aren't so clear cut.

I've learned a lot from Ruth and Nell. I can cook now. I can also knit and crotchet. None of these domestication skills taught to me by motherly figures makes me fit to be a mother. I look at pictures of Brad as a child cuddled in his mother's arms. They seem so natural, but I remain wary of touching anyone who isn't Brad. Even Ruth's hugs make me squirm. While she laughs at my reaction and says I'll learn to submit to her, I'm more worried about how I'll do with my child.

After an ultrasound at five months confirms we're having a daughter, I descend into a deep depression. I suspect my doubts might be easier to deal with if our first child is a boy. I would see Brad in the baby rather than myself.

Ruth is overjoyed and goes crazy with pink. Nell begins knitting pink booties within hours of the ultrasound. I can only think about my daughter seeing me the way I saw my mother.

"Kids can sense bad people," I tell Brad one night.

Spread out on the bed with his head between my legs, he's talking to the baby, despite his oddly sexual positioning. I wish to strip him naked and fuck away my fears. Except I don't think of it as fucking anymore. We make love. Just another change when I'm already overloaded with them.

"I don't think that's true," Brad says, talking more to my bump than me. "Dogs are good at sensing bad people, and our dogs love you. They loved you even when you thought they were gross licking machines."

I smile slightly, but his words don't really help. "They liked Marx too," I remind him.

"Oh, yeah. Well they're attention sluts, I guess. Anyone who pets them is their best friend. I didn't do a very good job training them to be guard dogs."

When he won't take me seriously, I cup his face. "Tell me I won't hurt our baby. Promise me that I can love something that only takes."

"Saskia, you already love our baby. You wouldn't be so worried if you didn't care about her."

"These hands have done ugly things," I say, still cupping his face.

After gently kissing the palms of both of my hands, he stares into my eyes. "They're also as tender as a whisper."

Brad's goodness and knowing his mother and Nell will help keeps me from truly panicking. I don't enjoy my pregnancy though. The baby's kicking makes me tense. The stronger the kicks, the sooner she'll be born. I don't fear giving birth. I fear every moment afterwards.

"I'm sorry," Brad says when we learn I'll need a C-section since our baby is too gigantic to vaginally exit my body.

"I want her to be like you in every way," I whisper. "I don't want to see anything of me in her."

Brad frowns at my words, but he doesn't say anything else. We prepare for the surgery, and I'm so tense that I panic until the anesthesiologist dopes me up with something wonderful. I even smile when they show me the baby. Unfortunately, the drugs wear off.

Denise is a good baby, I'm told. I don't know what a bad baby is like, so I can't really compare. She cries a lot but mostly sleeps. I go through the motions with the redheaded giant baby girl who stares at me. I don't know if she senses I'm not a good person or that I'm nervous around her. Whenever I feed her, she stares transfixed by me as if afraid to turn her back on the bad lady. To be fair, she also stares at Brad, but I sense she's simply impressed by his beauty.

When Denise is three months old, a virus runs through the house. Ruth gets sick first and soon Nell is bedridden. The minute Brad feels off, he quarantines himself in a guest bedroom. Suddenly, I'm alone with Denise.

Trapped with a child I don't understand, I cry constantly which makes her cry. We're two sobbing females in a house where everyone else is puking. This isn't the fairytale I imagined when I fell in love with Brad. I stupidly believed he could magically fix all the flawed things about me. Love is a powerful thing, but even it has limitations.

Hour after hour, I bounce around the living room, trying to soothe Denise when I can't even soothe myself. We're still crying when Brad peeks out of his room to see if he can help us by sending happy thoughts.