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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Asher
I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when Mel approached in that gown. I couldn’t believe I’d wasted so many years ignoring my feelings for her. Ted had been so right, and I’d been so blind. I closed my eyes for just a second, feeling his spirit beside me along with my other two brothers. Mel and I stood facing each other, her hands in mine.
“Melody Grace Stevens, do you take Asher Becket Beaumont to be your lawfully wedded husband?” He’d already asked me a similar question, and I’d given a quick and definite “Yes, I do.”
Now it was her turn, and I stood patiently, waiting for Mel’s answer. She looked up into my eyes after she placed the ring on my finger. “I do.”
I grinned.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
I took my wife in my arms and crushed my mouth to hers. It felt like the first time I’d ever kissed her. She tasted sweet, and I wanted to stay absorbed in the kiss with our tongues engaged in this erotic tango forever.
When I heard a whistle from beside me, I slowly eased back, and the small crowd erupted in applause. I took Mel’s hand and we waltzed down the aisle, past the rows of chairs and our friends and family.
Mel and I headed for the limo that would take us to the reception. We’d talked the club where we performed into letting us have it there. Even though Mel’s dad had offered to pay for most of the wedding, we didn’t want to go overboard. He’d also offered us a down payment on a house if we didn’t go too crazy on the wedding. We’d had no problem obliging him.
The apartment was dark when I came home. Mel had moved across the hall into my apartment right after we tied the knot. We hadn’t taken her dad up on the down payment for a house yet since we weren’t sure exactly where we wanted to settle. Mel had stopped performing with me about two weeks ago. The baby was due any day, and the doctor had told her to take it easy and stay off her feet.
My brother, Jackson, and his wife Lena had had a baby boy two weeks ago. They sent pictures and told us to come up as soon as we could. They named him Brodie Asher Beaumont. I was so moved by his display of unconditional love and his ready acceptance of me as his brother that I’d cried when he told me. I never thought having a nephew named after me would bring such joy. Hell, I’d never thought much about nephews period.
I enjoyed my time in bed with Mel, rubbing her stomach with lotions and oils to keep it subtle and soft then snuggling close afterwards. It had become a nightly ritual so I was surprised when I came home and found all this lights off. An alarm instantly went off in my head.
“Mel?” I called out and ran into the bedroom.
I flicked on the light and she slowly sat up. “What?” Her voice was throaty and groggy.
“All the lights were out. I got worried.”
“Oh, sorry, babe. I couldn’t sleep. The light from the other room kept me awake so I turned it off.”
I went to her side. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”
“Okay, go back to sleep. I’m going to hop in the shower.”
“Okay,” she yawned and pulled the pillow over her head.
I always showered after a night at the club. I usually got hot and sweaty up on stage when I performed, and my t-shirts were like a magnet for the aroma of booze and other odors permeating the air at the club—from perfumes to the essence of weed. Not a scent I wanted Mel and the baby to have to sleep next to. The hot water felt amazing after the night I’d had. I was looking forward to snuggling in close to Mel and sawing some z’s myself.
I stepped out of the shower and turned off the water, grabbing a towel from the rack when Mel came in holding her hand below her belly as though she were holding the baby up from slipping down.
“You okay?”
She shook her head as liquid dripped down her legs and pooled at her feet.
“Oh.” I pushed the toilet seat cover down and helped her to sit. “I’ll throw some clothes on. Just stay there.” I said, pointing my finger at her to stay put and hurrying out of the bathroom. I scrambled in my closet for a shirt and shrugged into it, tugging my jeans up next without any boxers. I stepped into my black Converse, foregoing the extra time it took for socks. I grabbed her jacket off the coat tree by the door and came back, putting it around her. “Let’s go.”
I helped her to stand. She hadn’t said a word, but I could tell she was in pain. “How far apart are they?” I asked.
“About three minutes for the past hour I think,” she said. “And about a minute each time.”
“Really? That’s close.” We were twenty minutes from the hospital and this time of night there wouldn’t be much traffic, so that was in our favor. But still, I worried. Three minutes. “Why didn’t you say something when I first came home?”
“I knew you’d want to take a shower,” she smiled. How the hell could she be smiling? But I loved that she was. I was nervous and maybe a little scared, but I did my best not to show it.
