“Sorry,” I offer with a rueful smile to Mercy. “No matter how often it happens, it still catches me off-guard sometimes. They’re just unusually active right now. Probably because they know we’re at a family function and want to make sure I know they’re here.”
Mercy smiles back at me, but it looks a little strained. Parting her lips as if to say something as she watches the movement of my hand, she leans forward but then abruptly ducks her head and moves a finger in circles on her legs. “I...” she begins, nervously wiping her palms on her jeans.
“Kitten?”
The question comes from our right, and we both instinctively answer. “Yes?”
“Oh, no, Connie Mac.” Amos stalks over to Connor and stabs a finger in his face. “What did I tell you about calling our women the same name when we were at family functions? Said we weren’t gonna do that. We agreed, and now look at you. You got my woman looking your way because she thought you were me.”
Connor holds his arms up defensively. “Hang on, now,” he splutters. “You mademywoman think thatyouwere me.”
Chuckling to myself as the men bicker, I glance back at Mercy. “I kinda like that nickname. It’s cute.”
“It sure is,” she answers wistfully. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Neither would I.” I tilt my head as I study her stilted expression. “Are you feeling okay? You seem a little...I don’t quite know the word for it. Off?”
Fingers twitching, Mercy throws her words out in a rush. “Would you mind terribly if I felt...” A heavy look of longing hangs on her face as her eyes fall to my pregnant belly. “I know how rude it is to ask, but—”
“You want to feel them? Of course I don’t mind. Scoot closer.” Beaming, I grab her left hand and place it right where one of the babies seems to be the most active. I picked the right spot, because her face lights up in wonder. And then I feel something on the other side. “Oh, quick—give me your other hand!” I reach for her right hand.
“They’re both...” her voice trails off in a feathery breath as her fingers flatten even more against my roundness, mouth forming into an awedOwhen another violent movement ripples across my belly. “I feel them. So that’s what it feels—”
The beginnings of tears shimmer across her green eyes as I hold her hands under mine. She sniffs them back, but some still break free and fall down her cheeks in thin streaks. Head downturned, words haltingly leave her lips. “I’ve never—we tried, but I couldn’t...so we adopted instead.”
Oh, God.
Shattered. That’s what my heart is at her confession, and the mother in me hurts so much for her. I tighten my grip. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”
“I have polycystic ovary syndrome—PCOS.” A shoulder shrugs up to brush the wetness from one cheek. “And as if that wasn’t enough, I’ve only got one fallopian tube, too. I’m afraid biological children were just never in the cards for me. And”—her voice hitches as she tries to smother the emotion—“anyway, I just wanted to know what it felt like, at least once. If not from the inside, then from the...outside.” Her last word leaves as a quiet cry.
My lips tremble and tears swarm in my eyes. “Oh, Mercy,” I manage to get out. “Come here. Come here.” I pull her into an awkward hug over the arms of our chairs, her body shuddering against mine with her sobs.
“I’m so sorry,” she gulps between sniffs. “I didn’t mean to cry or make you cry with me, but I just desperately wanted to feel them.”
There we are, the two of us locked in a solemn, sorrowful embrace. Two women on different paths of life, yet connected together by the movements of the babies between us.
“Mercy?” I open my wet eyes to see Amos quietly walking up beside us. “Come to me, kitten. I’ve got you now.” Gently disengaging her arms from me, he walks with her to the privacy of the tree line at the opposite end from Isaiah.
“Where you going, Momma?” little Leila calls after them.
Corina catches her before she races over to them, Malachi and Maddox at her side. “Momma needs some special hugs from Daddy right now, sweet thing. Come on. Let’s go see if the cookies have cooled off yet.” With three curious children in tow, Corina heads for the kitchen while Mitchell sits with Fenley and Toto.
A tanned hand brings a handkerchief up to wipe my tears.
Connor.
Safety.
Throwing my arms around his waist, I watch Amos and Mercy. He wraps himself around his wife from behind, placing a big hand on her belly, only for her to move it away and turn in his arms for a closer embrace. A sob lifts from my throat. I almost feel guilty that I’m pregnant and she’s not, especially since mine happened the first time my fuckhead ex didn’t use a condom.
Why is that the way it usually works? Women who want to get pregnant can’t, no matter how hard they try, and women who aren’t ready to have babies yet make one on the first go.
“It’s not fucking fair,” I softly cry as my little ones move within me.
“I know, Rosanna.” Connor kisses my head. “She’ll be okay, though. She’ll be okay.
Chapter twenty
