Intoxicated
Page 4
I burst out laughing and throw my arms around his neck, giving him a sound kiss on the lips. “Whether I like it or not?” I whisper against his mouth.
“Oh, you’re going to like it.” He kisses me one more time and then steps away from me, my hands still clutched in his. “I’ll definitely make it worth your while.”
“Promise?” I tease.
Just then, the minister yells, “Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Gage Emerson!”
“For you, baby? Anything.”
Chapter Four
* * *
Archer
MY WIFE HAS been pushing for the last hour and a half and it’s killing me that I can’t help her. That I can’t solve this problem she’s having, that I can’t be the one having the baby for her. I wish I could take on her pain, take on her exhaustion, take on her every burden so she doesn’t have to suffer.
I hate that I have to witness this. Not the birth of my child, oh no. I’m beyond ready to meet that baby of mine. My poor wife though?
She’s suffering, my Ivy. Hunched over, her face is red, her forehead sweaty and long wisps of hair are matted to her skin. Her eyes are wild with a mixture of anticipation and exhaustion and they go out of focus every few minutes. Like she’s here, but not.
Her feet are in stirrups, her knees bent as the doctor and nurse hover at the end of the bed, checking her between the legs. She freaked out a little bit when they laid her down on the birthing table. Panicked. She’s been saying for weeks that she wants the baby out, but now that we’re at the final moment, I think she’s having regrets about the entire child-birthing process, though I know that’s just nerves talking.
Anyway, too late now. There’s no going back. She knows this but . . . pregnant women can be a little irrational sometimes. Not that I would ever, ever admit that to Ivy. Or any other woman who’s given birth.
The only thing that reassures me in the midst of the chaos and the worry is the sound of my child’s steady heartbeat coming from the monitor, filling the room with a relentless beat that tells me they’re doing just fine.
Wish I could say the same about Ivy. She’s worn out.
“You okay?” I ask her, tracing my fingers down her forearm, drawing her attention. “You’ve almost got this, baby. You’re doing so good.”
“I’m okay.” She nods but her voice wavers, and I wonder how okay she really feels. “I just want this to be over with. I’m so tired.”
“Maybe . . .” I let my voice trail off, not sure if I should say what I want to say to her or not. I clear my throat. “You’ve been going at this for hours. Maybe you should consider a C-section? I know we discussed natural childbirth, and you didn’t want to have a cesarean, but—”
“I’ve only been pushing for two hours, if that. The baby isn’t stressed. I’m not a quitter, Archer.” She sits up straighter, her expression determined. “I’ve got this.”
Aw, man. She’s set out to prove me wrong now.
This is usually my cue to give up the fight but, damn it, I’m scared out of my mind something could happen to Ivy. And I’m not about to lose her. I can’t even fathom the thought.
My phone starts ringing, and I see it’s Matt calling. I walk over to the farthest corner of the room so I can answer it and talk without Ivy hearing me.
“What’s up, man? Don’t tell me you bailed on Gage and Marina too.”
Matt chuckles. “You a father yet or what? Everyone’s dying to know what’s going on. How’s Ivy? Is she okay?”
“The baby’s not here yet,” I say, glancing over at Ivy’s bed. She’s got her hand resting low on her belly and her chin is tilted down. I swear her lips are moving, and I think she might be either talking to herself or the baby. Probably telling that the baby they’re going to prove Daddy wrong and make an appearance sooner rather than later—which would be fine with me. “She’s been pushing for almost two hours,” I say, my voice lowering. “I’m worried about her.”
“She’ll be fine,” Matt says. “Women have babies all the time. Your girl is tough.”
I know what Matt’s saying is true, but I still worry about Ivy. She’s my life. I want what’s best for her and never want to see her in pain. I had no idea watching her in labor would be so difficult. I need to change the subject for a bit and focus on something else. “So how was the wedding?”
“Great. Everything went off without a hitch and Marina was a beautiful bride. I swear, Gage cried when he first saw her.”
“Get the hell out.” Gage was turning into a regular sap.
No big deal considering I was too. So was Matt. I blame the women folk.
“Hand to God, dude. I wanted to tear up when I saw Bryn coming at me down the aisle in her bridesmaid dress, she looked so beautiful clutching her bouquet,” Matt says, his voice soft.
What a goner he is. He’s madly in love with that former assistant of his, not that I can blame him. I would never admit this to Ivy but Bryn is pretty damn hot plus she’s so nice.
Christ, she’d tear my head off if she knew I even thought that.
“You’ve turned into a complete pussy,” I mutter just to get under Matt’s skin.
It works. “Fuck you,” he replies cheerily. “Mister I’m so worried about my wife as she gives birth to my baby, though I get it man. I get it.” Matt pauses for a brief moment, and I hear a cheer in the background. Sounds like they’re all having fun, and I wish Ivy and I could’ve been there to celebrate with everyone. But our baby had different plans. “What do you think you’re having anyway? Boy or girl?”
I want to roll my eyes. How many times have I answered this question? Hell, how many times has Matt himself asked me? “It doesn’t matter as long as the baby is healthy,” I say.
“That’s such a bullshit answer. You can tell me the truth. I won’t reveal it to anyone. What do you think you’re having? What do you want?”
“I really don’t care dude, okay?” I glance over at Ivy who’s glaring at me. Damn, she looks pissed.
I swallow hard, prepared for the verbal blow I’m about to get.
“Archer,” she practically hisses. Her eyes are narrowed, but she looks scared too. And so, so, tired. “I need you.”
“I gotta go,” I tell Matt. “Pray for my wife,” I say before I end the call. I rush toward Ivy, who lets out a long groan as she clutches her belly with both hands.
We’re going to need all the help we can get.
Matt
THE RECEPTION IS in full swing, and I can finally relax. During the ceremony, I stood by Gage’s side and handed over the ring. I gave a rousing speech during the dinner that made practically every female in attendance cry. And now I’m slow dancing with my girlfriend, holding her close in my arms as we sway to the music.
Since when did my life get so perfect?
Since the first time you saw Bryn.
Right. Exactly.
“They look so happy,” Bryn murmurs, breaking through my thoughts.
I glance down at her to see she’s watching Gage and Marina dance nearby. Their gazes are locked, arms wrapped around each other as they float slowly about the dance floor, surrounded by other couples. But they aren’t paying attention to anyone else, acting as if they’re the only two people in this room. They look that lost in each other.
“That’s what love does to you,” I say because I can relate. I feel the same way. Completely and totally lost in Bryn and what we share. It just flat out doesn’t get much better than this, and I’m finding that I count my lucky stars more and more often the longer I’m with Bryn.
I want to make this relationship permanent. We belong together. I know it. She knows it. So why aren’t we facing facts and taking our relationship to the next logical step?
“You’re right.” Bryn smiles up at me, the sight of her pretty face momentarily stealing my breath. “Love makes you do crazy things.”
“It does.” I nod and swallow hard. This is it. I want to say the words, but they’re lodged in my throat like I’ve turned into some sort of coward. When have I ever hesitated to ask for what I want? I’m a go-getter, and I always have been. If I’ve learned anything from my pain-in-the-ass dad, it’s that you’ve gotta make shit happen for yourself, not wait for it to happen to you.
Sound advice. Even in relationships.
“You did an amazing job with the best man speech,” Bryn continues, smoothing her hand along my shoulder. My skin tingles at her touch, even through the layers of clothing. “Did you even plan what you were going to say? Or was it completely unrehearsed?”
“Considering I had less than two hours to prepare for that speech, and most of that time I was doing other stuff,—yeah completely unrehearsed,” I say. I’m not the best when it comes to speaking in public, but I held my own. Unlike now when I’m losing my nerve just trying to talk to my own girlfriend.
It’s only the most important question of my life. What’s the big deal?
I break out into a cold sweat. Jesus, this is a huge f**king deal.
“Well, you did great. And you look good too,” she says appreciatively. “Though I think I’ve told you that about a thousand times already.”
I raise a brow. “Only good?” Looks like I can still flirt at least. That’s good because I feel like I’m losing my grip and fast.
“Better than good.” She grins. “Hot. Mega hot.”
“That’s better.” Leaning in, I drop a quick kiss on her forehead.
“I love you,” she whispers and my heart cracks with her words. Rarely does she say it first; it’s almost like she’s scared to confess she may have more feelings than I do at any given moment.
I’ve lived most of my life always trying to be on top, but this relationship isn’t a competition. We’re two equals, Bryn and me, and I wish she could realize that. When it comes to relationships and love, I know she hasn’t had the best examples in life, but I want her to be confident knowing that I love her.
“I love you too,” I say, my voice—and my courage—growing stronger. “Bryn.”
“What?”
I stare into her eyes, memorizing the way she looks at this very moment. Happy, beautiful. Perfect. “Will you marry me? Be my bride?”
She stops dancing and so do I, my heart racing a million miles a minute. She’s gaping at me, her eyes wide, lips parted, staring at me like I have two heads. Then she takes a step back, her hands dropping away from me as she slowly shakes her head.
“I-I’m sorry. I can’t,” she whispers, just before she turns on her heel and runs away from me as fast as she can.
Leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor. Alone and devastated.
Hell. What just happened?
Gage
“GAGE?”
My wife’s sweet voice rings through me, and I glance down at her, offering her a soft smile. “Yeah?”
“I love you.” Marina smiles at me, radiantly beautiful. I want to f**king cry all over again just looking at her. When I saw her poised at the end of the aisle on her father’s arm, ready to walk toward me and begin this journey called marriage, tears sprang to my eyes. The dress she wore was stunning. Her hair, her smile, the way she clutched her bouquet so tightly the flowers trembled—she did me in.
Flat out wrecked me.
All the stress and joy and arguments and worry and anxiety in planning this wedding had proven worth it in that one single moment.
“I love you too,” I whisper, bending down so I can kiss her, even slip her a little tongue which she responds to eagerly. Hey, this is our day. If anyone wants to give us grief for tongue kissing on the dance floor at our wedding reception, well they can suck the big one.
She breaks the kiss first, her smile wobbly, her eyes a little dazed. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I laugh and shake my head. “Kissing you?”
“For putting up with me these last few months.” Her smile turns immediately into a frown. “I’ve been a complete bitch. I don’t know how you put up with me.”
“You’re not a bitch.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “You might’ve been a bit . . . touchy but hey, you’ve been under a lot of stress. Planning a wedding isn’t easy.”
“Planning a wedding for a demanding bunch of Italians all expecting the party of the century is definitely not easy,” she says, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
I laugh. There’s something about her boisterous Italian family that I love. Even her dad who still sometimes treats me like I’m scum on the bottom of his shoe. I love that guy. I love her mom too. I love her whole damn family and I know my family embraces her fully, especially my sister.
Shit. My sister. She’s having a baby right now, and I haven’t contacted her. Our parents already left and headed to the hospital so they could be with her and Archer. I should do the same. We should leave right now and check up on her. We have time before we have to get to the hotel. Hell, we’re not even flying out to the Caribbean until tomorrow morning.
“I texted Archer a few minutes ago,” Marina says like she can read my mind or something.
Which she probably can. I used to think that crap was scary. Now I just roll with it.
“What did he say? How’s my sister?” I hear the panic in my own voice, and I tell myself to calm down. If something crazy were going down they would’ve contacted us. Otherwise, they’re leaving us alone—those were Archer’s exact words to me via text right before the ceremony. They want us to enjoy our wedding, not worry about Ivy the entire time.
“Oh, you’re going to like it.” He kisses me one more time and then steps away from me, my hands still clutched in his. “I’ll definitely make it worth your while.”
“Promise?” I tease.
Just then, the minister yells, “Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Gage Emerson!”
“For you, baby? Anything.”
Chapter Four
* * *
Archer
MY WIFE HAS been pushing for the last hour and a half and it’s killing me that I can’t help her. That I can’t solve this problem she’s having, that I can’t be the one having the baby for her. I wish I could take on her pain, take on her exhaustion, take on her every burden so she doesn’t have to suffer.
I hate that I have to witness this. Not the birth of my child, oh no. I’m beyond ready to meet that baby of mine. My poor wife though?
She’s suffering, my Ivy. Hunched over, her face is red, her forehead sweaty and long wisps of hair are matted to her skin. Her eyes are wild with a mixture of anticipation and exhaustion and they go out of focus every few minutes. Like she’s here, but not.
Her feet are in stirrups, her knees bent as the doctor and nurse hover at the end of the bed, checking her between the legs. She freaked out a little bit when they laid her down on the birthing table. Panicked. She’s been saying for weeks that she wants the baby out, but now that we’re at the final moment, I think she’s having regrets about the entire child-birthing process, though I know that’s just nerves talking.
Anyway, too late now. There’s no going back. She knows this but . . . pregnant women can be a little irrational sometimes. Not that I would ever, ever admit that to Ivy. Or any other woman who’s given birth.
The only thing that reassures me in the midst of the chaos and the worry is the sound of my child’s steady heartbeat coming from the monitor, filling the room with a relentless beat that tells me they’re doing just fine.
Wish I could say the same about Ivy. She’s worn out.
“You okay?” I ask her, tracing my fingers down her forearm, drawing her attention. “You’ve almost got this, baby. You’re doing so good.”
“I’m okay.” She nods but her voice wavers, and I wonder how okay she really feels. “I just want this to be over with. I’m so tired.”
“Maybe . . .” I let my voice trail off, not sure if I should say what I want to say to her or not. I clear my throat. “You’ve been going at this for hours. Maybe you should consider a C-section? I know we discussed natural childbirth, and you didn’t want to have a cesarean, but—”
“I’ve only been pushing for two hours, if that. The baby isn’t stressed. I’m not a quitter, Archer.” She sits up straighter, her expression determined. “I’ve got this.”
Aw, man. She’s set out to prove me wrong now.
This is usually my cue to give up the fight but, damn it, I’m scared out of my mind something could happen to Ivy. And I’m not about to lose her. I can’t even fathom the thought.
My phone starts ringing, and I see it’s Matt calling. I walk over to the farthest corner of the room so I can answer it and talk without Ivy hearing me.
“What’s up, man? Don’t tell me you bailed on Gage and Marina too.”
Matt chuckles. “You a father yet or what? Everyone’s dying to know what’s going on. How’s Ivy? Is she okay?”
“The baby’s not here yet,” I say, glancing over at Ivy’s bed. She’s got her hand resting low on her belly and her chin is tilted down. I swear her lips are moving, and I think she might be either talking to herself or the baby. Probably telling that the baby they’re going to prove Daddy wrong and make an appearance sooner rather than later—which would be fine with me. “She’s been pushing for almost two hours,” I say, my voice lowering. “I’m worried about her.”
“She’ll be fine,” Matt says. “Women have babies all the time. Your girl is tough.”
I know what Matt’s saying is true, but I still worry about Ivy. She’s my life. I want what’s best for her and never want to see her in pain. I had no idea watching her in labor would be so difficult. I need to change the subject for a bit and focus on something else. “So how was the wedding?”
“Great. Everything went off without a hitch and Marina was a beautiful bride. I swear, Gage cried when he first saw her.”
“Get the hell out.” Gage was turning into a regular sap.
No big deal considering I was too. So was Matt. I blame the women folk.
“Hand to God, dude. I wanted to tear up when I saw Bryn coming at me down the aisle in her bridesmaid dress, she looked so beautiful clutching her bouquet,” Matt says, his voice soft.
What a goner he is. He’s madly in love with that former assistant of his, not that I can blame him. I would never admit this to Ivy but Bryn is pretty damn hot plus she’s so nice.
Christ, she’d tear my head off if she knew I even thought that.
“You’ve turned into a complete pussy,” I mutter just to get under Matt’s skin.
It works. “Fuck you,” he replies cheerily. “Mister I’m so worried about my wife as she gives birth to my baby, though I get it man. I get it.” Matt pauses for a brief moment, and I hear a cheer in the background. Sounds like they’re all having fun, and I wish Ivy and I could’ve been there to celebrate with everyone. But our baby had different plans. “What do you think you’re having anyway? Boy or girl?”
I want to roll my eyes. How many times have I answered this question? Hell, how many times has Matt himself asked me? “It doesn’t matter as long as the baby is healthy,” I say.
“That’s such a bullshit answer. You can tell me the truth. I won’t reveal it to anyone. What do you think you’re having? What do you want?”
“I really don’t care dude, okay?” I glance over at Ivy who’s glaring at me. Damn, she looks pissed.
I swallow hard, prepared for the verbal blow I’m about to get.
“Archer,” she practically hisses. Her eyes are narrowed, but she looks scared too. And so, so, tired. “I need you.”
“I gotta go,” I tell Matt. “Pray for my wife,” I say before I end the call. I rush toward Ivy, who lets out a long groan as she clutches her belly with both hands.
We’re going to need all the help we can get.
Matt
THE RECEPTION IS in full swing, and I can finally relax. During the ceremony, I stood by Gage’s side and handed over the ring. I gave a rousing speech during the dinner that made practically every female in attendance cry. And now I’m slow dancing with my girlfriend, holding her close in my arms as we sway to the music.
Since when did my life get so perfect?
Since the first time you saw Bryn.
Right. Exactly.
“They look so happy,” Bryn murmurs, breaking through my thoughts.
I glance down at her to see she’s watching Gage and Marina dance nearby. Their gazes are locked, arms wrapped around each other as they float slowly about the dance floor, surrounded by other couples. But they aren’t paying attention to anyone else, acting as if they’re the only two people in this room. They look that lost in each other.
“That’s what love does to you,” I say because I can relate. I feel the same way. Completely and totally lost in Bryn and what we share. It just flat out doesn’t get much better than this, and I’m finding that I count my lucky stars more and more often the longer I’m with Bryn.
I want to make this relationship permanent. We belong together. I know it. She knows it. So why aren’t we facing facts and taking our relationship to the next logical step?
“You’re right.” Bryn smiles up at me, the sight of her pretty face momentarily stealing my breath. “Love makes you do crazy things.”
“It does.” I nod and swallow hard. This is it. I want to say the words, but they’re lodged in my throat like I’ve turned into some sort of coward. When have I ever hesitated to ask for what I want? I’m a go-getter, and I always have been. If I’ve learned anything from my pain-in-the-ass dad, it’s that you’ve gotta make shit happen for yourself, not wait for it to happen to you.
Sound advice. Even in relationships.
“You did an amazing job with the best man speech,” Bryn continues, smoothing her hand along my shoulder. My skin tingles at her touch, even through the layers of clothing. “Did you even plan what you were going to say? Or was it completely unrehearsed?”
“Considering I had less than two hours to prepare for that speech, and most of that time I was doing other stuff,—yeah completely unrehearsed,” I say. I’m not the best when it comes to speaking in public, but I held my own. Unlike now when I’m losing my nerve just trying to talk to my own girlfriend.
It’s only the most important question of my life. What’s the big deal?
I break out into a cold sweat. Jesus, this is a huge f**king deal.
“Well, you did great. And you look good too,” she says appreciatively. “Though I think I’ve told you that about a thousand times already.”
I raise a brow. “Only good?” Looks like I can still flirt at least. That’s good because I feel like I’m losing my grip and fast.
“Better than good.” She grins. “Hot. Mega hot.”
“That’s better.” Leaning in, I drop a quick kiss on her forehead.
“I love you,” she whispers and my heart cracks with her words. Rarely does she say it first; it’s almost like she’s scared to confess she may have more feelings than I do at any given moment.
I’ve lived most of my life always trying to be on top, but this relationship isn’t a competition. We’re two equals, Bryn and me, and I wish she could realize that. When it comes to relationships and love, I know she hasn’t had the best examples in life, but I want her to be confident knowing that I love her.
“I love you too,” I say, my voice—and my courage—growing stronger. “Bryn.”
“What?”
I stare into her eyes, memorizing the way she looks at this very moment. Happy, beautiful. Perfect. “Will you marry me? Be my bride?”
She stops dancing and so do I, my heart racing a million miles a minute. She’s gaping at me, her eyes wide, lips parted, staring at me like I have two heads. Then she takes a step back, her hands dropping away from me as she slowly shakes her head.
“I-I’m sorry. I can’t,” she whispers, just before she turns on her heel and runs away from me as fast as she can.
Leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor. Alone and devastated.
Hell. What just happened?
Gage
“GAGE?”
My wife’s sweet voice rings through me, and I glance down at her, offering her a soft smile. “Yeah?”
“I love you.” Marina smiles at me, radiantly beautiful. I want to f**king cry all over again just looking at her. When I saw her poised at the end of the aisle on her father’s arm, ready to walk toward me and begin this journey called marriage, tears sprang to my eyes. The dress she wore was stunning. Her hair, her smile, the way she clutched her bouquet so tightly the flowers trembled—she did me in.
Flat out wrecked me.
All the stress and joy and arguments and worry and anxiety in planning this wedding had proven worth it in that one single moment.
“I love you too,” I whisper, bending down so I can kiss her, even slip her a little tongue which she responds to eagerly. Hey, this is our day. If anyone wants to give us grief for tongue kissing on the dance floor at our wedding reception, well they can suck the big one.
She breaks the kiss first, her smile wobbly, her eyes a little dazed. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I laugh and shake my head. “Kissing you?”
“For putting up with me these last few months.” Her smile turns immediately into a frown. “I’ve been a complete bitch. I don’t know how you put up with me.”
“You’re not a bitch.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “You might’ve been a bit . . . touchy but hey, you’ve been under a lot of stress. Planning a wedding isn’t easy.”
“Planning a wedding for a demanding bunch of Italians all expecting the party of the century is definitely not easy,” she says, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
I laugh. There’s something about her boisterous Italian family that I love. Even her dad who still sometimes treats me like I’m scum on the bottom of his shoe. I love that guy. I love her mom too. I love her whole damn family and I know my family embraces her fully, especially my sister.
Shit. My sister. She’s having a baby right now, and I haven’t contacted her. Our parents already left and headed to the hospital so they could be with her and Archer. I should do the same. We should leave right now and check up on her. We have time before we have to get to the hotel. Hell, we’re not even flying out to the Caribbean until tomorrow morning.
“I texted Archer a few minutes ago,” Marina says like she can read my mind or something.
Which she probably can. I used to think that crap was scary. Now I just roll with it.
“What did he say? How’s my sister?” I hear the panic in my own voice, and I tell myself to calm down. If something crazy were going down they would’ve contacted us. Otherwise, they’re leaving us alone—those were Archer’s exact words to me via text right before the ceremony. They want us to enjoy our wedding, not worry about Ivy the entire time.
