“Fourteen days without you in my arms is never happening again.”
“Never,” she agrees, dropping her purse down on the runway and jumping into my outstretched arms. “God, I’ve missed you,” she says, just before her lips crush mine.
“Mmm.” Moaning, I slant my mouth over hers, devouring her pouty lips. The fire in my bones that’s lain dormant since I last held this woman in my arms sparks to life as I drink her in with every bit of my soul. “Missed you, Li’l Momma.”
She squeezes her legs tighter around my waist, her sexy little sigh telling me she approves of the term of endearment.
“You taste like peanut butter,” I mutter through a tangle of tongues. It’s a flavor I loathe, yet don’t mind quite so much when the delivery is this aesthetically pleasing, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t call her out on it.
Sammi jerks back. “Oh, my God… Do I taste gross?” She huffs into her cupped hand and smells it. “I figured you were the one who left the bowl of Reese’s Pieces for me.”
“I was,” I say, laughing as I peck at her nose. “And you taste like heaven.”
Her puckered lips twist to the side. “You hate peanut butter.”
“My love for you cancels that out.”
“Really?” Her teeth clamp down on her lower lip. “I have gum in my purse.”
“Can’t wait that long for another taste,” I say, before capturing her mouth for another steamy kiss.
My chest swells at the knowledge that she’s been snacking on the candy I arranged to have waiting for her on the plane. Being able to spoil her in little ways—to feel like I’m taking care of her and her pregnancy cravings—brings me a sense of pride.
Living away from my wife has been torture. I don’t want to be my Li’l Bit’s husband in name only, but it’s hard not to feel like that’s the case when we’re apart more than we’re together. I keep reminding myself it won’t be this way for long. Mr. Wayne’s health is improving each and every day. As soon as he’s stabilized, we’ll be free to build the life we’ve always dreamed of, together.
It’s crazy how we went from spending years apart and functioning just fine to me being completely lost without her by my side.
“I mean it,” I murmur between kisses. “I will sit in the damn waiting room at that hospital next time your dad has a weekend treatment before going through this agony again.”
Her smile stretches against my lips. “You would do that, wouldn’t you?”
I give her another hard kiss before setting her to her feet, appraising my girl while Frank retrieves her luggage from the plane. “Absolutely.”
Her cheeks flush beneath my perusal. I’ve never had much of a poker face, and it’s clear by her reaction she has a pretty good idea what’s going through my mind.
“What?” She giggles.
“Just like looking at you.” I grip the front of her black cardigan and tug her close enough to slip my hand inside discreetly to feel her bump. “He’s growing.”
Li’l Bit scoffs. “It’s not surprising. She’s got one hell of a sweet tooth.”
I cock my brow before ushering her toward the waiting car with a hand at the small of her back.
“T minus thirty minutes.” I open her door, helping her inside before ducking in behind her. “Then you’ll have to stop calling our son a she.”
“We’ll see…”
“Right this way,” Dr. Ruby says, ushering us in through the back entrance of her office building, quickly locking the door behind us.
“Thanks so much for meeting us on a Saturday,” Sammi says. Her pitch is higher than usual, and she can’t stop fidgeting with her sweater.
I take her hand in mine, curling my fingertips along her palm in an attempt to ease her fraying nerves.
“It’s no problem at all.” The short, middle-aged woman gives us a warm smile. “It’s truly my pleasure. So nice meeting you both.”
She shakes Sammi’s hand before reaching for mine, a small gesture that makes me like her instantly. Most would have bypassed my wife and gone straight for my hand—maybe even asked for a photograph or an autograph.
I adore my fans, but there’s a time and a place for everything, and I appreciate that this woman clearly respects that.
The doctor guides us down a long, dim hall to a cozy room with a leather couch covered in pillows that’s situated across from a massive executive style desk. “I’m just going to get some information before conducting your exam. Are you okay with your husband being present for this?”
“Of course.” Sammi grins up at me, seeming to draw comfort from my presence.
“Great,” Dr. Ruby says, crossing the room to sit herself behind the desk. “Y’all go ahead and have a seat on that couch, and we’ll get started.”
She begins by going over my wife’s medical history, followed by that of her family.
Things grow a tad uncomfortable for my wife when she starts asking about my medical history and Sammi has to inform her that it’s not necessary because while she’s uncertain who the biological father is, she’s positive it isn’t me.
The doctor doesn’t bat an eye at my wife’s confession that has her red in the face and tripping over her words.
“It’s okay,” she assures Li’l Bit. “I’m not here to cast judgment or to spread your business. Believe me, you are not the first and will certainly not be the last woman to find herself in a similar situation. This child will have two loving parents, and that’s all that matters. How that came to be is irrelevant. Please don’t worry yourself over such things. Especially not with me.”
She offers my wife a genuine smile, waiting patiently for her to nod her agreement before panning her eyes back to her chart. “Says here the date of your last period is unknown?”
“Right…” Sammi’s knee starts to bounce. “I’ve never been regular. Sometimes I skip a month, sometimes three or four.” She shrugs. “I was using protection and didn’t really have any reason to think I could be pregnant until I started to feel sick and realized it had been a few months. It dawned on me that I was about to get married and had slept with someone el—”
“Not any of my business,” the woman says, jotting something in her file. “Nor is it anyone else’s. Happens more often than you’d think.” She sets her pen down and folds her hands on the desktop. “Can I offer you a bit of advice?”
Sammi nods.
“I see a long line of high-profile clients. The public can be brutal, as I’m sure you’re realizing very quickly. They will eat you alive if you allow their projections to affect the way you see yourself.”
My heart wobbles at her words because she couldn’t be more spot on. “Were you a therapist in a former life?” I ask the question to lighten the mood, but am only half kidding.
“Just a fellow human, woman, and mother who’s seen a lot.”
“Thank you,” my wife says, dabbing at the corner of her eye with her sleeve.
“Know yourself. Know your heart. And don’t give anyone—not me, not the media, not even your own family—the power to take that from you.”
“I’ll try,” Sammi says, sitting up a little taller after her pep talk.
“Great,” the doctor says, retrieving her pen. “Now, back to business. We can get a pretty accurate due date from the ultrasound.”
“Perfect.” My wife visibly relaxes into my side.
“Breathe,” I whisper against her temple. “We’re about to see our baby.”
“Our baby,” she utters, just loud enough for me to hear. She blows out a long breath, seeming to release much of the weight that’s been sitting on her shoulders since our arrival.
After a few more questions, Sammi goes off to provide blood and urine samples and have a physical exam, whatever that entails. My new bride was not too keen on my partaking in that part of the appointment, and I’m a little relieved. Don’t know how ready I am to see my favorite toy splayed open for someone else’s perusal. I’m perfectly content with keeping my ass right here on this couch.
“You can come on back now, Mr. Livingston,” the doctor says, peering her head into the doorway.
My pulse takes off at a sprint as I get up and follow her to a dark room across the hall. My wife lolls her head to the side, smiling at me from the table where she’s laying with her shirt tucked up under her bra and her black leggings rolled to just above her pubic bone.
I rush over to stand by her side. “What’s happening?” I whisper.
But it’s the doctor who answers. “We’re going to do an ultrasound to determine how far along she is.”
“Will you be able to tell us if it’s a boy or a girl?” I don’t beat around the bush. I need to know so I can properly flaunt my victory.
Doc smiles. “As long as she’s twelve weeks or more, we should be able to tell. Provided Mom wants to know, of course.”
“Yes,” Sammi answers while simultaneously nodding her head. “We’d love to know.”
“I’m gonna squirt some jelly onto your stomach. It’s been in the warmer, so shouldn’t be too bad.”
“Pshh,” I snort. “She’s no stranger to having sticky stuff on her belly.”
“Lyle!” Sammi’s eyes widen to the size of saucers while the doctor goes about her business, trying not to laugh as she squirts a blob of goop onto her tummy and starts swirling a wand around in it.
“It’s true.” I shrug, turning back toward the screen to avoid her scathing glare.
“Holy shit!” I say when a little skeletal baby appears on the TV screen. “Li’l Bit…” I give her hand that’s still clutched firmly in my own a shake. “Do you see that?”
“Yes,” she laughs with tears brimming in her baby blues. “I see.”
“I’d say you’re already into the second trimester,” Dr. Ruby volunteers. “But let’s take some measurements to be certain.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask, looking between the two women. “What’s a second trimester?”
“Pregnancy is broken into three stages,” Dr. Ruby says while zooming in on various parts of the baby and taking her measurements, “The first trimester is up to thirteen weeks. The second trimester is fourteen to twenty-seven, and the third is twenty-eight to forty.”
“So, what you’re telling me is we’re gonna be able to see his junk.”
Sammi gasps while the doctor goes on like it’s just another day at the office. “We’re going to try. He or she wasn’t cooperating just now. I’ll make another attempt at it after I finish.”
“Will you behave?” my wife chides, glowering at me from the table.
I pretend to mull it over for a moment. “Not likely.”
Our stare off is interrupted by Dr. Ruby. “Here’s your baby’s heartbeat.” A rhythmic whooshing sound fills the room. “Nice and strong at 153 beats per minute.”
My heart triples in size, and my throat grows thick with emotion. It’s without doubt the most surreal experience of my life, staring into my wife’s tear-filled eyes while our baby’s heartbeat echoes around us.
In this instant shit becomes real. It’s the singular moment that transforms our relationship from that of a newly married couple to a family. At least it is for me. Maybe it’s different for Sammi being that she’s the one carrying him. But seeing him. Hearing him. It’s just split my heart wide open.
“That’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”
“I can email you the clip so you can listen over and over again,” Dr. Ruby offers, seemingly touched by my wonderment.
“I’d love that,” I say, meaning it.
“Looks like you’re about sixteen weeks and two days, give or take a few. Dating by ultrasound isn’t an exact science.”
“Sixteen weeks!” Sammi’s head bolts up, as she braces herself on her elbows. “How did I not know?”
“With your irregular cycles, it’s very easy to miss. Especially if you weren’t having extreme morning sickness to alert you that something was amiss.”
“Shouldn’t I be feeling her moving around in there?” my wife asks, still stunned by this news.
“You probably have and just didn’t realize it,” Dr. Ruby offers. “Movement this early feels like little more than gas or flutters in your tummy. Now that you know, I bet if you lay still, you’ll be able to feel it.”
“When am I due?”
“We’re going to go with March nineteenth.”
Sammi nods then frowns. “And can you tell around when I conceived?”
Fuck if my stomach doesn’t drop at the reminder that I’m not the one responsible for knocking my wife up.
“Likely the week of June 26th. But again, it could be a week earlier or later since we can’t go by your cycle. It’s all an educated guess.”
I stare at my Li’l Bit, waiting for her to share with me the significance of that date, because judging by the expression on her face, it means something to her.
“Could be either of them,” she says, shaking her head as if she’s disgusted with herself.
“Stop it.” I clutch her chin and turn her face to mine so she’s looking me in the eye. “None of that matters anymore. This is our child. Yours and mine…”
“You’re right,” Sammi says, accepting my kiss before relaxing back onto the pillow. “The past can stay in the past.”
“That’s exactly where it belongs,” I agree.
The doctor spends the next thirty minutes trying unsuccessfully to determine the gender of our baby before we finally throw in the towel and agree to give it another go at her anatomy scan in a few weeks.
We’re already running late for Rhett and Korie’s little girl’s first birthday party and need to get moving.
“He kinda looks like an alien,” I say, holding the photo of the baby’s face out so we can examine it together as we depart through the back door and make our way toward the dumpster to our waiting car.
“She’s the prettiest little Martian I ever did see.” Li’l Bit rams an elbow into my ribs. “Seriously, though, I can’t believe we have to wait another month to find out which one of us is right.”
Sammi is a planner, and a bit of a control freak, and I can just imagine what not knowing is doing to her.
“You’ll still have twenty weeks to shop and plan.”
When we reach the car, Frank looks around, whistling, as if to show he has no idea what’s going on while he opens our door.
“I guess,” Sammi pouts. “At least we have this.” She pulls the little stuffed bear with the recording of baby Livingston’s heartbeat inside and presses the button on its paw.
My own heart races at the sound, fighting to keep time with our baby bean as we speed away to Rhett’s place, where I’ll finally have the honor of introducing my best friends to the love of my life.
