“Ew!Shane!”
“Sorry.”He apologized by giving me a hug.“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did.”I scowled up at him.“You better not go around telling people we’re trying to make a baby with that kind of language.”
Now, he was the one who looked offended.“I wouldn’t dare.What we do is private.”He hugged me tighter.“Besides, you’re my old lady.That’s a place of respect.I wouldn’t ever think of it like that with you.”
“You better not,” I warned.
“I know what’s good for me,” he promised.
“So, can you help Daisy find him?”
“I can do better than that.”Shane retrieved his phone from his back pocket.With his arm slung around me, he scrolled through his contacts and tapped the screen.He lifted his phone to his ear and waited.
A few rings later, he said, “Leo?Yeah.It’s Slinger.No.No.Your bike’s fine.It’s still locked up in Jace’s shop.Yeah.No, I’m calling about something else that happened when you were here last.Margie’s bar bathroom.A cute, young blonde.Ring any bells?Uh-huh.Yeah, I bet.Well, brother, I hope you’re sitting down...”
Chapter ten
Shane
Eleven Months Later
“Hereorclosertothe window?”I stopped to get Melissa’s input on the placement of the glider on top of the brightly colored rug.This was the fourth time I had moved it, but I wasn’t about to complain.My part in this was easy compared to hers.
“I like it there.”She smiled, one hand resting on the swell of her belly.We were almost seven months into this, and I still hadn’t gotten tired of seeing her heavy and full and round.“What do you think?”
“I’m happy if you’re happy.”I held out my hands, silently beckoning her closer.I gently guided her over to the glider and helped her sit.“Well?Comfy?”
“Very.”She glanced around the nursery with such love in her eyes.“We’ve made this a really beautiful space for her.”
“We have.”Over the last five weeks, I had refinished the floors, replaced doors and hardware and painted the room a relaxing shade of lilac.I had hung new wooden blinds, the super safe ones without cords, and curtains that complimented the rug.All of the baby furniture was brand new and a gift from Eddie except for the crib I had designed, milled and built myself.
“Joanna is such a good artist,” Melissa remarked, her gaze on the happy little mural my receptionist had painted for us last week.
Well, not just my receptionist anymore.She and Eddie had been an item for almost six months and were talking about moving in together.Half the time I saw Eddie these days, he had Joanna’s grandkids with him, and Joanna had stepped into the void of mother-slash-mother-in-law for us.
“Dad’s lucky he found her.”Melissa winced as she rubbed her toes on the rug.
“Very lucky.”I pulled the ottoman a little closer and sat down on it.Patting my leg, I instructed, “Come on.Give ‘em to me.”
She laughed and plopped her bare feet onto my lap.“Sorry.”
“Don’t.”I eyed her swollen toes with guilt.“This is my fault anyway.”
“Hardly your fault alone,” she argued.“I seem to remember this was my bright idea.”She pointed to her belly.“I was the one who basically begged you to get me pregnant.”
“Yeah?And?Did you hear me complaining about the fun part?”She shook her head.“Exactly.So I’m not about to complain about this either.”
She sighed with relief as I started to massage her feet.I worried about the swelling, especially since her blood pressure had been a little high at her checkup a few days ago.Her OB had mentioned pre-eclampsia, and it had scared the absolute shit out of me to read the pamphlet I had been handed.Seizures.Strokes.Kidney failure.Death.
“Hey,” she said softly, “don’t catastrophize, Shane.”
“Hard not to,” I muttered, my throat feeling thick and tight.“You’re my wife.You’re carrying my baby girl.I promised I’d protect you, but I don’t know how to fix this.”
“You do what you’ve been doing this whole time I’ve been pregnant.You make sure I rest, eat healthy and take my evening walks.You go with me to my appointments.You help advocate for me when I can’t.”
That was the part that really scared me.What if I made the wrong call?What if something went wrong in labor and I made the wrong choice?
