I didn’t sleep much last night. Even after I was given a sleeping pill, I only dosed in intervals. I don’t think Jack Henry nodded off once all night, although I repeatedly asked him to try and get some sleep. The nurse showed him how to turn the chair into a bed but he refuses, and each time I open my eyes or move, he slides to the edge of his seat and asks me if I’m okay. He’s like a guard dog watching over me and our baby.
I brush my teeth and Jack Henry helps me wash up. “Did you tell Margaret they’re doing an ultrasound this morning?”
He’s standing at my bedside wearing his cotton sleep pants and a T-shirt, rubbing his scruff. He has a case of bed head, although he never slept, and he couldn’t look more adorable. “Yeah. She wants to stay and watch if it’s okay with you.”
Of course, it’s fine by me. “I don’t mind. I’d love for her to see the baby.”
“She’ll be really happy about that. She never got to be with Em when they did any of hers.”
I’m almost afraid to ask about my mom but I need to. “You never mentioned it, but did you talk to my mom?”
“I did.”
“What did she say?”
He looks like he’s thinking up something to say. “I told her what was happening and that we were going to do everything possible to save the baby.”
“What did she say about that?”
“She asked if you were miscarrying and then told me she wanted to talk to you because she had good news. She and your dad are getting married.” He looks like he’s angry. “I didn’t think her timing was appropriate, so I told her you were asleep and would call her later.”
Asking about the miscarriage without any concern for me or the baby and then jumping straight into her good news … that hurts. But it’s just like my mom. I don’t get the disconnect there. I haven’t even laid eyes on this baby yet and I already know I’ll put his happiness ahead of my own. That’s what a real mother does.
She’s hoping I’ll lose the baby because she thinks I should be pursuing my career instead of a family. This is a problem for me and I’m not sure she’ll continue to hold a place in my life if she’s going to wish my child away. “She probably won’t call to check on us but if she does, tell her the nurse is with me and I can’t talk.” I can’t handle her right now.
Margaret arrives only moments before Dr. Sommersby comes into the room for my scan. “Is it okay if my mother-in-law stays?”
“That’s fine with me if it’s all right with you.”
I look at Margaret and she’s wearing a huge grin. That’s how a grandmother should be, ecstatic about seeing her grandchild, not wishing it away. “Yes. I would very much like her to be here.”
The ultrasound procedure is the same as yesterday—lots of measuring and documenting—but Dr. Sommersby is nice enough to show Margaret some great close-ups of the baby. She agrees with me—that the baby looks like Jack Henry—but in the end there’s no change in the membranes, so we’ll continue doing what we did yesterday. I’ll continue to lie with my head down and we’ll check for improvement tomorrow.
Day four. I didn’t think I’d become sick of this so quickly but I am. I don’t want to stay here any longer. I want to be home at Avalon. I cried like a baby after Jack Henry finally went to sleep last night because I didn’t want him to see me. I’ve been holding it in, putting on a tough exterior, because I don’t want him or Margaret to see my weakness and mistake it for selfishness.
I can see how one could lie here and become depressed. Maybe that’s what’s happening to me now, but I’ll keep doing what I have to for this baby and pray the membranes have retreated.
I wait on pins and needles, lying on a bed of nails upside down, as I hold my breath for the verdict. “I don’t see hourglassing, Laurelyn. I think we can put you on the surgery schedule and place the cerclage today.”
Hallelujah! I want to jump out of bed and turn cartwheels down the hall.
Jack Henry squeezes my hand and leans up to kiss me. “I knew you’d do it. I never doubted you for a second.”
Things move rapidly, prepping me for surgery, and I’m nervous. No … more like petrified. There are still risks involved with this procedure, so we aren’t out of the woods yet. But the prognosis is much improved from what it was four days ago.
My surgical nurse and anesthetist come into the room to move me to the OR. Jack Henry looks as terrified as I feel. “You’re going to do perfect and Dr. Sommersby is going to take good care of you. I’ll be right here waiting.” He leans down and kisses my mouth. “I love you, L.”
“Love you too.”
I’m wheeled down the hall backward, the fluorescent lights flashing as we move beneath them. It’s disorienting moving in the wrong direction and the flickering doesn’t help. It’s nauseating. “I don’t feel well.”
The bed is stopped and a washcloth is placed over my face. “Close your eyes and don’t watch the overhead lights.” I remember the nurses telling me to notify them immediately if I felt nauseated. Vomiting could cause my membranes to balloon out further or possibly even rupture. “Concentrate on your breathing and take slow, deep breaths. We’re almost there.” I feel something being placed in my hand. “This is an alcohol pad. Sniff it. It’ll help the nausea pass.”
I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply. Miraculously, it helps. I sure wish I’d known about that little trick a couple months ago.
The freezing cold air of the operating room hits me the second I’m taken inside and my body involuntarily shakes before it’s really even had a chance to cool. My teeth are clenched tightly and a rigor causes me to jerk. “I have some warm blankets for you once we get you moved over.”
I’m slid with sheets and a backboard to a table in the middle of the room. Bright lights shine directly on my crotch. Stirrups await, and I’m pretty sure I know what’s next. I’ll be spread-eagle for everyone in this room to see. How humiliating. I hope they put me to sleep first.
I look up and see the upside down face of the nurse anesthetist placing an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose. “Just a little fresh air for you, Mrs. McLachlan.” A moment later the woman standing over me says, “I’m going to give you something through your IV to make you really sleepy.”
“Okay.”
And everything goes black.
I can’t sit. I’m restless, pacing L’s room from the door to look down the hall and back to the ignored chair.
“The doctor said Laurelyn would be in surgery almost an hour if there were no complications and then she’d go to the recovery room for an hour, so park your ass in that chair before you give me motion sickness.” Mum doesn’t look up from where she’s reading, her glasses low on her nose.
I take the chair next to her. “Sorry. I can’t help myself.” My heart pounds and bats flutter in my gut.
“You always were a nervous one, watching over Chloe like she was a delicate flower. You could never see that your baby sister was as tough as nails but it was good practice for you. You’ve transitioned from the sheltering big brother into the protective husband and father.”
“I’m still the sheltering big brother.” And I don’t like Chloe being with that f*cker.
“Ben is good for Chloe. He treats her well.”
Because he knows I’ll kick his ass if he steps out of line. “He’s a bastard, Mum. He’s using Chloe and he’s only going to hurt her in the end. You don’t know him the way I do.” It’s only a matter of time and I’ll be there to take him down when he does.
She looks skeptical. “And how well do you know him?”
“Well enough.”
“Ben is the brother of Laurelyn’s best friend and he pursued her when she came to Australia.”
My mum knows Ben went after L? “That’s right.”
“You were both chasing after her at the same time so he was your opponent in the duel to win Laurelyn’s heart.”
“But she was mine and he knew that,” I argue.
“Listen to me, son. Ben went after his sister’s best friend, knowing there would be hell to pay if he screwed it up. He proposed an authentic relationship with her from the beginning, one that might have prospered into something real. Now, think back on what you offered—a fling lasting a few months with no connection afterward. You never even asked her last name while she was living with you and sharing your bed. So, tell me who behaved worse.”
Okay. Mum has a point. I was probably more of a bastard than Ben but that doesn’t mean I should stop looking out for Chloe. “I’ll lighten up a little on him.”
“No, son. You’ll lighten up a lot. Chloe’s in love with Ben and you don’t have the right to ruin it because you refuse to let go of a rivalry that ended when you won Laurelyn’s heart.”
Oh hell. Why’d my sister have to go and fall in love with Ben Donavon, of all f*cking people? The earth is populated by billions and she had to choose him. “I can do it but it’s going to take some time. I can’t cut it off like a switch.”
“If it helps, think of it as a favor to your mum.”
No. It doesn’t help one bit but I don’t have time to answer because L’s phone is ringing in the cabinet where her things are stored. I’m sure it’s her mum. I really don’t have the patience or desire to talk to her right now, but she has the right to an update on her daughter and grandchild—if that’s the reason behind her call. She could be calling to discuss wedding plans. I wouldn’t put that past her. Selfish bitch.
I don’t recognize the number and then remember it wasn’t her ringtone I heard. “Hello?”
“Good morning, this is Grayson Drake, assistant to the prosecuting attorney in the case against Blake Phillips. I’m trying to locate Miss Laurelyn Prescott.”
“It’s McLachlan now.”
“I’m sorry?”
“She’s no longer a Prescott. It’s Laurelyn McLachlan. This is her husband, Jack McLachlan,” I explain.
“I was unaware you and Miss Prescott had married. May I speak with her?”
“She’s not available at the moment and won’t be anytime soon.”
“Well … I guess I can go ahead and speak with you since you’re one of the witnesses to testify in this case. I spoke with Miss Prescott several months ago …”
I interrupt because that’s no longer who she is. “It’s Mrs. McLachlan.”
“Er … yes. I spoke with your wife several months ago when the Blake Phillips case went before a judge for arraignment but I’ll catch you up, as you are now her husband and you both live in another country. Are you familiar with the American justice system?”
“Not at all.”
“As you know, Mr. Phillips was released on bail months ago since he wasn’t considered a flight risk due to his ties in the community, meaning his wife and children.” Yeah, I know. The f*cker has been walking around free as a bird. “The judge in the preliminary hearing felt there was sufficient evidence to move the case to trial, and the grand jury did as well, so Mr. Phillips was officially indicted. He entered a plea of not guilty to all charges against him and a trial has been set for next week on May seventh. The prosecutor needs to speak with both of you about your testimony prior to that day, preferably in person, but over the phone is acceptable if you can’t be present before the trial.”
Seriously? We live on a different continent and we’re given a week’s notice? “Our presence isn’t possible at this time. My wife is pregnant and is experiencing some complications so she’s been admitted to the hospital for an indefinite period of time.”
“We can try to move the date back but not more than a few weeks at most.”
That won’t work. “Laurelyn won’t be traveling for the remainder of her pregnancy.” Or soon after. She’ll be nursing and there’s no way we’re dragging a newborn across the globe because of Blake Phillips.
“Well, that certainly poses a problem, Mr. McLachlan. Mr. Phillips is already making a lot of noise about his constitutional right to a speedy trial being violated with the date as it is.”
That sends me into orbit. “Who gives a f*ck about his rights after the things he did to my wife?”
“The American justice system does.”
“Well, that’s very unfortunate.” This is a technical world we live in. “What about testifying via video?”
“It isn’t unheard of for a witness to testify over closed-circuit video but it’s a long shot. I wouldn’t expect the judge to go for it. Allowing a victim to testify from the other side of the globe is unprecedented in a criminal case where constitutional rights are at stake. Not to mention that cross-examining over webcast would be terribly difficult. Frankly, Mr. McLachlan, I’m surprised this case made it to trial because you and your wife are basically the only evidence we have. It’s weak even with your testimony because it’s otherwise unsupported. The remaining evidence is circumstantial, at best, and likely inadmissible, so it would be damn near impossible to get a guilty verdict without your testimony. I would expect his defense attorney to make a motion for the charges to be dropped and that will likely happen if you don’t testify.”
This is incredible. “You have our statements. Can’t you use those?”
“They’re hearsay, and even if we could use them, they are unpersuasive.” He has an answer for everything.
Un-f*cking-believable. “So, you’re telling me he can attack my wife, attempt to rape her, and get away with it?”
“It’s hard to win a case when the defendant has connections and the best defense attorney money can buy,” he explains.
“Well, he’s not the only one with money and connections. So, I guess that’s the American way.” But it’s not the McLachlan way. There’s no way I’m letting that f*cker get away with what he did to Laurelyn. “It truly sickens me to see him walk but we can’t risk the safety of our unborn child. As such, Laurelyn won’t be coming and I can’t leave her at this critical time.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr. McLachlan. I wish you and your wife the best.”
I end the call with Mr. Drake and I’m beyond furious. “Blake Phillips attacked Laurelyn—left her body bloody with bruises—and attempted to rape her. He would have been successful had I not gotten to her in time and he’s going to walk without any repercussions.”
I’m sorry my mum had to hear that conversation. “It’s not right but at least she’s here now and not in Nashville. He can’t get to her from where he is.”
“I’m not done with him.”
“Son, there’s nothing you can do. As much as I hate what that man did to our girl, you have to let it go.”
I’m set to argue with my mum and throw her words back in her face. “She’s one of us now and we protect our own … at any cost.” But I’m not able because the door opens with L being brought back into her room.
I’m happy to see the head of her bed in a normal position. I reach for her hand but she’s sleeping and doesn’t stir when I take it in mine. “I thought she’d be awake when she came back.”
“Some people are a little groggier than others after anesthesia. It’s just sticking with her a little longer—doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.” The nurse reapplies the monitor on her belly. “I’m putting the contraction monitor back on so we can make sure she isn’t having contractions. Sometimes a cerclage will cause the uterus to contract. If that happens, we’ll need to give her some medicine to stop them.”
So, the cerclage is a step in the right direction but we’ve yet to hit a safe place. “The procedure went well as far as you know?”
“She did great. Dr. Sommersby should come around and talk to you within the hour.”
I breathe a sigh of relief because nothing catastrophic, such as ruptured membranes, happened. This woman is my life and now this baby is as well. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to either of them.
It takes a moment for my eyes to focus but I’m able to make out Jack Henry sitting at my bedside. He’s holding my hand, brushing his thumb over the top the way he so often does. “Hey, pretty girl.”
“McLachlan,” I croak out and realize how sore and scratchy my throat is. I try to cough, to clear what feels like a plug but to no avail. “Can I have something to drink?”
Margaret comes to my bedside with a cup and spoon. “The nurse says you can have a few ice chips and progress to sips of water once you’re more alert.”
Jack Henry lifts the head of the bed and it dawns on me—I’m no longer lying with my head down. I panic, my hands immediately reaching for my stomach as I fear the worst. “The baby?”
My husband’s hand joins mine on my abdomen. “She’s fine.”
Margaret purses her lips while looking at Jack Henry. “You little shit. It’s a girl and you didn’t tell me.”
He’s in trouble now. “No, Mum. We don’t know what the baby is. I think it’s a girl so I call it a she to aggravate L—she’s leaning toward a boy.”
“Oh.”
Although I just had surgery, I feel more normal than I have in days. “I guess everything went well since they’re letting me sit up?”
“Yeah. Dr. Sommersby came in about thirty minutes ago. She’s optimistic the cerclage will hold because your cervix felt firm and is thicker than it appeared on the ultrasound. She said the bag of waters ballooning through the cervix probably had it stretched.” What a relief.
Margaret comes over to kiss me. “All right, kiddos. I’m going to step out and let the two of you have some time together. Can I get you something?”
I have everything I need right here. “I can’t think of anything, but thank you.”
Jack Henry waits until Margaret is gone before he hovers over me, his head against mine, and places his hand on my stomach. “I was so scared, L.”
I reach for his face because I want to feel it. He’s been too preoccupied with me and the baby to trim his facial hair. His scruff is too long to be considered stubble so it’s almost a beard. “I know. I was too, but for the first time in days, I finally feel like everything’s going to be okay.”
“Dr. Sommersby says she wants to observe you today and most of tomorrow. If you don’t have pain or contractions, she’s going to discharge you late tomorrow evening.”
“Omigod, what a relief.” I can’t wait to get back to Avalon. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed it. “I could’ve pushed through as long as I needed to but I must admit, I’m ready to get out of here. Four days of lying in this bed staring at these walls is a lot to take.”
“Babe, you’ve been a champ. Even the nurses have bragged on how well you handled standing on your head for days. You never complained once.”
Complaining would’ve only made it harder on Jack Henry and would’ve accomplished nothing. “There was no reason to. I was prepared to do whatever was needed for this baby and there was no other way of looking at it.”
“I know you would and it’s only one of the many reasons I love you so much.”
I shouldn’t but I want to know if my mom has checked on us. “Has anyone called?”
A peculiar look claims Jack Henry’s face and I can only interpret it to mean my mom isn’t concerned enough to call for an update. “I’ve updated Addison. She said to tell you she loves you and wishes she could be here. Emma called and wants you to know she loves you and is thinking of you and the baby. Chloe, pretty much the same—loves you, thinking of you.”
“But nothing from my family?” I bet she didn’t even tell Nanna and Pops. I know they would’ve called if they knew something was wrong.
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“It’s fine—she’s wrapped up in him. I’m used to it.” I guess I was stupid for thinking she might put me before herself, or him, for once, but it’s okay. Margaret’s been more of a mom to me this year than my own has been my whole life. The McLachlans are my family now and they love me. And I love them.
I’m discharged from the hospital for good behavior—no complications such as pain, bleeding, leaking, or contractions—but I’m given instructions to return immediately should any of these things occur. I’m to be on modified bed rest at home, meaning I can only shower and go to the bathroom. Otherwise I’m to do a lot of nothing while lying around. Dr. Sommersby says I may progress to routine activities after two weeks with one exception. No sex. My vagina is completely off limits so nothing is allowed within the temple. Strict doctor’s orders and one of the few things she isn’t lax about.
This is going to be a rough five months.
“Couch or bed?” Jack Henry asks as we pass through the kitchen.
“I’m sort of sick of the bed so I think I’d prefer the couch for a little while. Maybe you can sit with me and we can watch TV.”
“Absolutely. Mum thought you might need something comfy to wear the next couple of weeks so she brought some to the house this morning. Would you like me to get them for you?”
Margaret is so thoughtful. “Yes, please.” Mental note: Call and thank her for that.
Jack Henry returns with a pink T-shirt and a pair of white and pink pinstriped pants. Both are soft cotton and freshly laundered. “I can’t believe she washed them too.”
“She would do anything for you.” He hands the clothes to me. “She loves you dearly.”
My eyes fill with tears and my heart aches, but I don’t know if it’s the hormones or the sadness I feel when I think of how little my own mother cares about me. “I love her too.”
“She knows.”
I change into my new jammies and stretch out on the couch with a fluffy pillow under my head and my feet in Jack Henry’s lap. He’s rubbing my feet as we watch television and it’s one of the most boring times we’ve ever spent together. And I love it—just being with him in our home doing nothing. It’s absolutely shitastic.
I’ve been home from the hospital for a week and every day is pretty much the same. I go to bed with Jack Henry every night without sex. We wake up. He showers and goes to work. I shower and go to the couch. I lie there all day and when he comes in after work, we have dinner together on the couch. When’s it’s late, we go back to bed, again without sex, for another night of sleep.
I’m a very compliant patient but it’s killing me.
Poor Addison. I don’t know how she maintained her sanity for as long as she did, especially in that small apartment, but her jail sentence ended this week. The placenta previa is gone and she’s allowed to return to her normal activities. First on her agenda is coming to see me, and I’m glad because I have questions for her.
I forgo the comfies and put on yoga pants and a T-shirt. It seemed much more fitting for company, although I have no doubt Addison spent her fair share of days in pajamas.
She comes into the living room and looks so adorable in her fitted white top and faded jeans with her belly bump. “Oh, Addie. Look at you.” I get up from the couch to hug her and put my hands on her stomach. “He’s grown so much since I saw you last. I can’t believe it.”
“I know. This is happening crazy fast.” She puts her hands on her stomach and caresses it. He’ll be here in my arms in ten weeks. Can you believe that? I’m going to be a mom and then you will be too a couple of months after me.” She reaches out and touches my small bulge. “You’ll be this big before you know it and you’ll wonder where all the time went.”
“Are you and Zac any closer to choosing a name?”
“I want him to be named Donavon but Zac says everyone will call him Donnie and he hates that name.”
“So what are his choices?”
She rolls her eyes and huffs. “Gareth. Tell me—if you had to guess—what do you think people would call my son when they shorten his name?”
Ugh! “Gary.”
“Exactly.” She puts her hands out. “So, how is Gary better than Donnie?”
Poor Addison. “They’re both pretty … not great for a little newborn baby.”
“Yeah, I agree with you there but Donavon is my maiden name, or it will be after we’re married, and I want to use it. It has meaning behind it. Nothing about Gareth is special.” I like Gareth, although I tend to agree with Addie on this one.
“But do you like the name?”
She shrugs. “Eh … it’s okay.”
“Then what about Donavon Gareth or Gareth Donavon?” It’s a compromise and they both get to use the name they want.
“I want Donavon Zachary.” That also seems fair since each of them will have one of their names used.
“What does Zac think about you wanting to use Zachary after him?”
“Oh, he’s fine with using his own name, just not mine. This baby is going to have Kingston as his last name so he gets his way on two of the three names by default. Shouldn’t I get to choose the other? I’m the one who’s been lying in bed miserable for over three months. Look at my ass. I’ve already gained fifteen pounds because I couldn’t do anything but eat.”
Thank God I only have another week to go with the bed rest.
It only seems fair to let her choose at least one of the names. “Have you told him how you feel?”
She looks at me quizzically, or maybe like I’m stupid. I can’t be sure which because both look about the same coming from Addie. “Are you kidding me?” I’m assuming that’s a yes.
I was once given some marital advice by a very wise woman, and although Addie and Zac aren’t married yet, I think Addie could benefit from it. “Margaret shared some secrets with me about getting what you want. I haven’t put it to the test yet but she says we, as women, hold the power of the nookie and can use it to our advantage.”
“How does that work?”
She isn’t going to like this part. “Withhold sex.”
She immediately shakes her head. “Nope. I don’t want to withhold sex. I just started having it again and frankly, I missed the f*ck out of it.”
“Zac doesn’t have to know that.”
“He can kind of tell how much I missed it. I’ve been making up for lost time.” For some reason, I don’t doubt that for a moment.
“Do you want to embroider your son’s clothes with the name Donavon or Gareth? Your decision.”
“I highly doubt Zac will let me embroider any of his clothes.”
Talk of withholding sex reminds me … I’m not withholding but I won’t be getting any, either. “I’ve got a question. How did you survive not having sex for three months?” I’m looking at five whole months and then a six-week recovery period. Six and a half months total. That’s brutal.
“We had plenty of sex—just not the penetrating kind. Nothing in the vagina—that’s what my obstetrician told me—so Zac got plenty of blow jobs and I got lots of oral. And magical fingers. Zac can stroke me off like nobody’s business.” She shrugs. “I don’t have to tell you that the baby’s safety always came first, so we did what we had to do to get by.” I knew I could depend on her to give me an honest answer.
I’ve spent very little time considering the alternatives because I’ve been so scared about everything. But we have other options. And they’re good ones so we can still give and receive pleasure. We’ll just need to go into it disciplined, knowing Jack Henry can’t get inside me.
“I gotta know. What is Ben saying about all of this?”
“He was so pissed off when I told him. He didn’t want to accept that his best friend was f*cking his baby sister. I think he was pretending Zac was sleeping on the couch all those nights I stayed over at his apartment.”
I think my caveman would like to think there isn’t anything like that going on between his sister and Ben, but I know differently. “Jack Henry isn’t taking it too well about Ben and Chloe, but he’ll come around.”
“I don’t think he has much of a choice. Ben seems to have fallen hard for Miss Chloe.” I’m really happy to hear that since she has it pretty bad for him.
“She told me she thought Ben was the one.”
Addie puts her hands together and cups them over her mouth. “Oh … that’s so sweet.”
“And she said he was supremely f*cklicious.”
“Ugh!” She points her finger at me and laughs. “You are so wrong for telling me that. No one ever needs to hear that her brother is … those words you said.” She grimaces and feigns gagging.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay. Moving on, then …”
“What about the case with Blake? Heard anything else about that?”
“Not in a while but it should be coming up soon. I should probably call the prosecuting attorney and let him know about my … condition. I hope they can postpone everything until after the baby is born because I have to testify. I want to.”
“As you should. It’s your right to stand up and tell people what he did to you. No way he’ll walk away from this and when he’s found guilty, I hope he gets a horny cellmate with a huge dick.” Eww. Leave it to Addison to come up with something like that.
I’d like to call for a case status when Addison leaves, so I look at the clock and calculate the time change in my head. Bummer. It won’t work out today. I’ll have to wait until morning to catch Mr. Drake during office hours.
Addie and I laugh and catch up for hours. It’s good to be with her. I feel like we’ve spent too much time apart, although we’re living in the same town, only fifteen minutes between us.
I like the Addison I’m seeing. Motherhood is good for her. I guess it’s true—a baby really can change everything.
Laurelyn’s second week of bed rest has been uneventful and her late-morning appointment with Dr. Sommersby went well. Her cervix is unchanged—no bleeding, leaking, or contractions—and the baby has grown well since her last scan. It finally seems everything is getting back on track with this pregnancy. Except no sex. “Since you’re officially released from bed rest, can I take you out to lunch to celebrate?”
“That sounds really good.”
Eating anywhere besides our living-room couch will suit me. “Where do you want to go? Sheridan’s? Or what about that new hibachi restaurant? I’ve heard their sushi is amazing.”
She’s grinning. “I really want a big, fat, juicy cheeseburger and a huge order of fries with a giant chocolate shake from that fifties diner on the square—the one you took me to last year.”
Ah, yes. She was my companion then and things were still new. That morning was when I learned her real name and then she danced for me later that evening for the first time. It was a very memorable day and the recollection nudges me in the cock, encouraging him to wake up. But I have to learn how to get that under control. I’m going to have a really long drought ahead of me.
We walk into the diner and nothing has changed—still a black-and-white-checkered floor with fifties décor. The aroma of freshly dropped french fries and frying hamburgers hangs in the air. “Want to sit at the bar again?”
“Probably not a good idea. I don’t think they’ll be very comfortable for my back so I’d rather sit at a booth.”
We choose one directly behind the spot where we sat a year ago. “I want to put some music on. You already know what I want if the waitress comes by.” She walks toward the jukebox and I watch her bum sway side to side. Even pregnant, my wife is smokin’ hot.
She isn’t gone long before she returns and I hear a familiar tune playing overhead, although I can’t immediately place it. She’s smiling and I know she wants to play name that tune, a game I can’t win with her. “I know this song but the name hasn’t come to me just yet—hold on a sec.”
I listen for a moment and then it hits me. “‘I Only Have Eyes For You,’ but I don’t know who sings it.”
“The Flamingos, silly.”
“Of course, how could I not remember? Oh yeah, maybe because I’ve never heard of them.” She’s a musical genius. “I can’t believe I married a musical Wikipedia. Is there anything you don’t know about music?”
“Possibly, but I haven’t found it yet.”
Our food arrives and L doesn’t hesitate to jump in. She takes a huge bite of her cheeseburger and ketchup drips down, landing right in the center of her swollen, pregnant cleavage. She was already beautifully endowed but the pregnancy has given her a little extra boost. Her tits look even more spectacular.
She looks down at the ketchup in the cleavage and then back to me. She licks her lips to clean the smear of ketchup from her mouth. “You’d really like to lick that off, wouldn’t you?” My cock immediately awakens at the thought of my tongue running down into that cleft.
I put my cheeseburger on my plate and lean across the table to look into her eyes so she understands my seriousness. “I haven’t been inside you for three weeks and it doesn’t look as though I will be anytime soon, so you can’t say things like that to me. It’s torturous.”
Her chewing slows and she puts her cheeseburger down. “Abstinence isn’t going to be all that pleasant for me, either. I enjoy sex too.”
I hope she doesn’t get mad at me for what I’m about to say. “I sort of have this hysteria that started when we left the doctor’s office. It’s sinking in that it will be months before I’ll have you again.”
She uses her napkin to wipe the ketchup from her cleavage. “I’m sorry. I thought I was being cute.”
I don’t want to sour her mood. “You are terribly cute … and that’s the problem. I want you but can’t have you.”
Her smile returns and I know we’re fine. “I’ll try to keep the cuteness to a minimum, then.”
“That’s probably best.”
We change the subject of sex back to music and L tells me about every song playing overhead. “I chose this one because I love it so much, but they made a mistake putting it in the jukebox because it wasn’t released until the early sixties.” I listen and recognize “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley.
“I really like this song too.” I get up from our booth and put my hand out to her. “Dance with me.”
She looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “This is a diner. People don’t dance here.”
“Maybe others don’t but you and I do.”
She giggles and slides out of the booth. I grasp her hand in mine and place my free one on her lower back. “I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t almost empty in here.”
The only other customers are an older couple admiring us from the corner booth. “They see how in love we are and it reminds them of how they were once like this too.”
We sway to the tune of the song and I hold her close. “I couldn’t help falling in love with you.” She smiles and I kiss the top of her head.
I hum the words I don’t know and whisper-sing the chorus as we sway. I return to humming when it comes to the next part I should know, but don’t. “I’ve never heard you sing before.”
“It’s not really my forte.”
“No, it’s not. Your singing sucks,” she laughs.
“Thank you for breaking it to me gently.”
“I doubt I’m breaking anything to you.”
She’s right. I can’t sing worth a damn. “I’ll bow out gracefully from the job of teaching our swarm to sing.”
She stops swaying and looks up at me. “Sure you still want several after all that’s happened with this pregnancy? This problem with my cervix isn’t going away. I’ll need a stitch every time and will be on pelvic rest for the entire pregnancy.”
No way we’re giving up on our swarm. “Abstaining for months won’t be fun, but we’ll do what we gotta do for the family we dream of having.”
“I love you, McLachlan.” I pull her close again and return to humming.
It’s true. I couldn’t help myself from falling in love with this woman. When she took my hand, I willingly gave her my whole life.
L is no longer on bed rest but that doesn’t mean she can return to doing anything she likes. She needs to take it easy, so I bring her home after our lunch date and encourage her to rest on the couch. She isn’t excited about it but eventually concedes. I can see that she’s tired, although she refuses to admit it, and I’d bet money she’s napping within fifteen minutes once I’m out of the house to scout on the vineyard.
Harold and I get in a good four hours of scouting over a vast majority of the northwest corner and I’m pleased to find no additional evidence of downy mildew. The vines look quite good for this time of year and that pleases me greatly, but not near as much as returning home to see my wife.
I enter through the kitchen and Mrs. Porcelli appears to be putting the final touches on dinner. “Smells good in here. What are we having?”
“Laurelyn said you had a heavy lunch so she asked for a lighter dinner.” I totally agree with her on that. I love cheeseburgers, fries, and shakes but that isn’t a meal that should become a habit, especially not when you have a family history like mine. “I hope salmon with rice and asparagus fits the bill.”
“Sounds perfect.” I open the fridge and take out a beer. “Did Laurelyn rest after I went to work?”
“She’s been on the couch most of the afternoon and I’m fairly certain she took a nap.” Good. She needs plenty of rest. “She says the doctor gave her a good report. I’m very happy to hear that. I’ve been quite concerned about her and the baby.”
“We’re told the danger is behind us and the remainder of the pregnancy should proceed normally with the cerclage in place.”
“That’s such good news.” She opens the oven door to check the fish and the aroma fills the kitchen. “Will you be eating in the living room again?”
L’s sentence there is over and I’m guessing she’s as sick of eating on the couch as I am. “No. We’ll dine at the table tonight.”
“Then dinner will be there for you in ten minutes or so.”
“Thank you. I’ll let Laurelyn know.”
L isn’t on the couch and I don’t find her in our bedroom. There’s only one place I assume she’ll be. She’s out in the music studio checking on its progress. She hasn’t seen it in three weeks so she’s going to be surprised at all they’ve accomplished.
Although I’m quite content with her no longer working, she’s determined to get back to composing. She argues that it isn’t right for her to not work, that she should be bringing in some kind of income, but I disagree. She’s my wife and I make more than enough to support us.
I’m not wrong—the studio is where I find her. “What do you think of it?”
She’s looking around, a look of awe plastered on her face. “I’m shocked. I can’t believe how much they’ve done in the last few weeks. It’s almost finished.”
“I spoke with the contractor this afternoon. He said another week and we should be able to get you in here, songbird.”
“Songbird,” she repeats. “I like that.”
“Did you take a tour without me?”
She looks guilty. “I did. I saw the workers leave and I couldn’t resist coming out for a peek.”
“It’s okay. Have you seen all you want to see?”
She takes another glance around the room. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Dinner’s ready. I told Mrs. Porcelli we’d dine at the table tonight.”
“No argument here. I’m sick of that couch.”
“Me too.”
We spend the evening on the couch we’ve come to despise. Laurelyn’s sitting on one end reading, probably the only thing that’s kept her sane these past two weeks, while I’m on the other end catching up on missed work. It’s just sales reports, something I could do in my office, but that would mean being away from her. I enjoy this quiet time together, even when we’re not talking. Just her nearness is enough sometimes.
I look up and notice L has placed her e-reader on top of her belly and has dozed off. I’m not surprised. She sleeps a lot now, much more than she did before she became pregnant. I’m glad because rest is important for her and the baby.
I place my work on the coffee table and scoot over to her. “Time for bed.”
She stirs a little and slowly opens her eyes. “Wow. I was reading a hot sex scene one minute and then bam, I fall into a coma.”
“Really? You were reading about hot sex?”
She grins, maybe even blushes a little. “Did I just admit that?”
“Yes, you did.” I place her e-reader on the table next to my paperwork and grasp her hands to help her up. “Come on, pervert.”
She goes into the bathroom to do her nightly ritual and I’m already in bed when she comes out. She climbs in next to me, wearing a pink and white cotton gown. It’s lacy around the neck and innocent looking, not intended to be sexy at all, but my cock rouses simply by seeing her get into bed next to me. I know better. I shouldn’t look at her when she leans over to turn off her bedside lamp, but I can’t not look because her gown has gathered around her bum. I catch a glimpse of her pink cotton knickers and I’m immediately sorry. Ugh! I’m going to have to downgrade to jerking off—and soon. It’s not like I haven’t done it before, although it was mostly as an adolescent.
She leans over to kiss me goodnight and reaches for the back of my head to hold me close. I kiss her back, although I shouldn’t, and she becomes more aggressive. That’s when I realize this is not the same simple goodnight kiss she has given me each night for the past two weeks.
“This is another example like the ketchup incident today. You can’t do this to me. It’s agony.”
“But it doesn’t have to be. There’s still plenty we can do.” She slides across the bed and climbs over to kneel between my legs. She puts her fingers in the waistband of my sleep pants and tugs. “My mouth isn’t off limits.”
Oh f*ck. My girl is going to suck me off.
I lift my hips, beyond excited about what L is going to do to me. I haven’t gotten off in weeks so I’m happier than a camel on Wednesday.
I’ve wanted to jerk off many times over the last few weeks but it felt wrong to experience any kind of pleasure while L was going through so much, especially while she was in the hospital fighting to save our baby. I couldn’t even consider it then. I thought about it after she was home and the initial danger was behind us, but it still didn’t feel right since she was in such a miserable state.
This, however, doesn’t feel wrong, so I grab her pillow and prop it with mine behind my head so I can watch her every move.
She puts her palms on my thighs and glides them upward until her fingertips brush my balls. She teases me for a moment, lightly sweeping her fingers back and forth, and I think I’ll implode from the anticipation.
Her hand moves up and holds the base of my cock as she circles her tongue around the head. The stiff tip flicks several times at a supersensitive area just below the crown. She alternates these motions several times before taking me fully into her mouth. “That feels so f*cking good.” I put my hands in her hair and pull all of it into my fist in a high ponytail because I love watching my cock slide in and out of her mouth. I could almost come just by the sight of it alone.
She takes me out of her mouth and anchors my cock against my stomach. Then she does something new. Her tongue starts at the base of my balls and she licks the pleasure trail running top to bottom along my scrotum, the seam separating my boys. She draws the loose skin of the seam into her mouth and lightly sucks, bringing the blood, and the pleasure receptors, to the surface. “F*ck!” I groan.
She smiles and looks up at me. “You like that, huh?”
“Yeah,” I laugh. “I like that a-f*cking-lot. Please don’t let this be the one and only time you do that.”
“I’ve got plenty more for you, caveman.”
She takes my cock back into her mouth and massages my balls for a moment before I feel her finger against the skin under my sac. She presses it more firmly and rotates it in a circular motion. Slow, and then fast. Soft, and then hard. I’ve never been harder and what’s building has never felt more powerful. “Ohh …” I tap her on the head, our signal that I’m about to come, but I can’t say the words. I’m speechless aside from the incomprehensible garble leaving my mouth.
She stops and holds my cock so it’s pointing toward my stomach as she continues pressing that spot under my balls until I have this crazy, powerful explosion, by far the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. “Holy shit, L. That was …” I can’t even think of a fitting word to describe it.
“Great?” She looks so hopeful, as if she’s afraid she hasn’t pleased me.
Calling it great would be an insult. “Mind-blowing is a better word, but even that doesn’t do it justice. Don’t get me wrong. You’ve given me some fantastic head in the past but that was the best ever. What was that you were doing with your finger?”
I think she’s blushing. “It was my knuckle and I was stimulating your prostate.”
I look at how much cum is on my stomach. “You stimulated me, all right. I think you milked me dry.”
“I’ve heard there’s more semen when you press the prostate so I was afraid to swallow.” She shakes her head. “This pregnancy still has my gag reflex working overtime.” She slides to the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna grab a towel.”
She returns and wipes me clean. She rolls the towel up, tossing it out of the way, and then slides in next to me. I pull her close and kiss her as I slide my hand under her gown, but she grabs my wrist. “No.”
“I’m only going to touch on the outside.”
She moves my hand away. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I know anything on the inside is off limits, but I want to make you feel good too.”
She shakes her head. “Lying next you after giving you a mind-blowing orgasm makes me feel good.”
“I can do much better than that.”
“I’m afraid to have an orgasm even if nothing goes inside me. Maybe we can try later when the baby is far enough along to survive, in case it puts me into labor or something.”
She’s right. It isn’t worth the risk just to feel good. “Okay.”
She puts her head on my chest and traces an infinity on my stomach around my belly button with her finger. “Don’t be mad.”
I could never be upset with her over something like this. “Baby, I’m not mad. You’re thinking of our child’s safety. I could never be upset with you over that.”
“Pleasing you pleases me, so I’m fine with getting you off and not having the favor returned. You can make up for it later.”
I will definitely make this up to her. “I know you don’t mind but I love making you come. It’s quite satisfying for me to watch your face when you squeeze your eyes shut and scrunch your cute little nose as you open your mouth and pant.”
“That’s what I look like when I come?”
“Almost every time.”
She turns and props her chin on my chest. “What do I look like the other times?”
“Sometimes you bite your bottom lip. Both of your come faces are really hot. Lets me know I’m doing something right.”
“Everything you do is perfect. You always make me feel great.” She lifts her face and stretches to kiss me. “Never doubt that, McLachlan.”
She lowers her head to my chest and settles in as though she might be ready for sleep. Again.
We lie there for a brief moment when I hear her sharp intake of breath. “What is it? Are you having a pain?”
She lifts her head to look at me and grins. “No. The baby is moving.” I’ve yet to feel a single movement. Every time I try, the baby either stills or I simply can’t detect it. It may seem silly, but I think I’m a little jealous that L’s feeling it and I can’t. “This little stinker is turning flips tonight so I bet you’ll feel it this time. Give me your hand.”
L turns to her back and lifts her gown. She takes my hand and places at the top of her small bump. “It’s more on the left side.” We’re silent, waiting, as if the absence of sound will help my sense of feel.
And then it happens. I feel a gentle nudge beneath my hand. “I felt that.” And I feel something else as well. Love—the true and real kind.