Knight
Page 80
Tossing my clutch across the room to the couch, I flew to him, my body colliding with his, my arms wrapping around tight and his arm did the same, holding me close.
I felt his lips at the top of my hair and then, “Dad? Yeah. Yeah, she isn’t lyin’. Anya’s carrying my baby. Ten weeks.” Pause then, “No. Unexpected. She got sick a while back, flu, missed some pills.” Pause then on a squeeze of his arm in a gentle, soft voice, “No, Dad. It’s good. We’re happy.”
“It’s good.”
“We’re happy.”
He talked more but I didn’t hear much mainly because my body was bucking against his due to my sobbing.
Then he said his good-byes, shifted me so he could pry me away from his frame and put his phone back in his pocket then both his arms wound tight around me.
“Babe, eyes,” he ordered gently and I tipped back my head. His eyes moved over my face then caught mine. “You didn’t want a ring. You wanted my baby,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
“Mom’s f**kin’ beside herself,” he shared something I guessed.
I’d met his parents, three times.
They’d been to Denver twice. The second time for a nice visit. The first time Carl came out with Knight’s Mom to deal with Nick.
Nick now lived in Hawaii with Carl riding his ass. He was clean of blow, Carl’s first order of business. But he was still “dicking around” (Knight’s words). Though, “At least it gives Dad somethin’ to do. He doesn’t golf. He doesn’t surf. He doesn’t garden. He cracks heads. He was goin’ crazy. Now he’s got a head to crack,” (also Knight’s words).
We’d also gone out to see them. When we did, we saw Nick. To me, he’d changed. He was far less of an ass**le and he’d actually found a quiet moment just him and me to apologize and, I thought, do it sincerely. Knight warned me not to be fooled. He explained Nick could get contrite then Nick could turn back into an ass**le. Luckily, while we were there, he didn’t slide back into the ass**le.
And, it should be noted that although Nick took the time to apologize to me, he didn't take the time to apologize to his brother. Something I didn’t like all that much. Something Knight took in stride. Therefore something that clearly had happened before, repeatedly, this an assumption I’d made that Knight had confirmed when I asked him.
I tried to smile through my tears and replied, “Good.”
“Dad’s pleased.” He kept sharing.
“Good,” I repeated on a hitched breath.
His arms left me so his hands could cup my jaw, his thumbs sliding through the wet on my cheeks and he ordered softly, “Baby, quit crying.”
I drew in a shaky breath. This didn’t work so I drew in another one.
On the fourth, I got it together.
“That’s it,” he muttered, his thumbs still moving through the wet.
I held onto him and held his eyes.
“You’re carrying my baby,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“You’re carrying my baby,” he repeated, his voice lower, gruff, thick.
I felt my nostrils quiver but I held it together and nodded.
His forehead dropped to mine, his nose slid along mine but his hands never left my face and I held my breath as he whispered with feeling, “Fuck me, f**k me, f**k me.”
Slowly, I closed my eyes.
He wanted this, my man. He wanted me to have his baby.
I opened my eyes.
“You’re happy?” I guessed, my voice quiet but the words were still pitched high with hope.
“Fuck, baby, yeah. Fuck yeah. You got my baby in you.”
“I was worried you’d be angry,” I admitted and his face went away just an inch.
“I get that. We haven’t discussed it. Though, sayin’ that, been thinkin’ for a while about talkin’ to you about it. Puttin’ that ring on your finger reminded me I needed to get to that. Fate jumped the gun. I’m not complaining.”
God, God, God.
I loved this man.
“So you want kids?” I ventured even though the answer was obvious.
Still, it was good I asked because he smiled and I loved to watch Knight smile.
“Absolutely.”
“How many?”
“Two,” he said immediately.
“Boys or girls?”
“Boys,” he said again immediately and I blinked.
“Really?”
“Babe, my life, girls?” He shook his head and kept shaking it when he went on, “Your beauty, even a little of it, you give that to our baby?” He stopped shaking his head and his fingers gave me a gentle squeeze. “Fuck no. I’ll need to buy more guns and hire more men.”
I giggled.
“Make me boys,” he ordered.
I giggled again.
Then I pointed out the obvious, “Not sure I can yield on that, sweetheart. Think that’s up to destiny.”
His mouth came to mine and he continued being bossy.
“Do the best you can do.”
“Okay, Knight.”
“All right, baby.”
God, God, God.
I loved this man.
After having that joyous thought, I got serious but did it quietly.
“Honey, you need to quit smoking.”
He held my eyes and instantly agreed, “Yeah.”
I relaxed deeper into him.
“You’re forgetting something,” he whispered against my lips.
“What?” I whispered against his, looking in his beautiful eyes.
“Babe, kiss me.”
I grinned against his mouth.
Then I pressed tight in a variety of places and I kissed him.
His hands left my jaw so his arms could cage me in close, tight, safe and warm and then my Knight kissed me.
* * * * *
I stood with just my head out the door to the balcony that led from the nursery and, adjusting the telephoto lens, I took the shot. Then another. Then another.
I pulled back. Moving my thumbs over the buttons, I checked the screen at the back of the camera.
Then I smiled.
I got it.
I carefully closed the door without a sound, walked into the room, put the camera on the dresser and walked out.
Then I walked to the kitchen and retrieved my mug of herbal tea.
After that, I moved to the glass doors to the balcony, skirting the sunken living room.
Knight was out there. He was slouched in a chair, feet up on the railing, ankles crossed, mug of coffee on the table beside him.
I moved through the doors to the empty chair angled toward his and caught the glimmer of sun glinting on the gold band on his finger that was on his hand which was resting on our baby girl’s rounded, diaper-covered booty. She was curled, dimpled knees tucked under her, little fist resting beside her face, asleep on her Daddy’s Black Sabbath tee-covered chest.
I felt his lips at the top of my hair and then, “Dad? Yeah. Yeah, she isn’t lyin’. Anya’s carrying my baby. Ten weeks.” Pause then, “No. Unexpected. She got sick a while back, flu, missed some pills.” Pause then on a squeeze of his arm in a gentle, soft voice, “No, Dad. It’s good. We’re happy.”
“It’s good.”
“We’re happy.”
He talked more but I didn’t hear much mainly because my body was bucking against his due to my sobbing.
Then he said his good-byes, shifted me so he could pry me away from his frame and put his phone back in his pocket then both his arms wound tight around me.
“Babe, eyes,” he ordered gently and I tipped back my head. His eyes moved over my face then caught mine. “You didn’t want a ring. You wanted my baby,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
“Mom’s f**kin’ beside herself,” he shared something I guessed.
I’d met his parents, three times.
They’d been to Denver twice. The second time for a nice visit. The first time Carl came out with Knight’s Mom to deal with Nick.
Nick now lived in Hawaii with Carl riding his ass. He was clean of blow, Carl’s first order of business. But he was still “dicking around” (Knight’s words). Though, “At least it gives Dad somethin’ to do. He doesn’t golf. He doesn’t surf. He doesn’t garden. He cracks heads. He was goin’ crazy. Now he’s got a head to crack,” (also Knight’s words).
We’d also gone out to see them. When we did, we saw Nick. To me, he’d changed. He was far less of an ass**le and he’d actually found a quiet moment just him and me to apologize and, I thought, do it sincerely. Knight warned me not to be fooled. He explained Nick could get contrite then Nick could turn back into an ass**le. Luckily, while we were there, he didn’t slide back into the ass**le.
And, it should be noted that although Nick took the time to apologize to me, he didn't take the time to apologize to his brother. Something I didn’t like all that much. Something Knight took in stride. Therefore something that clearly had happened before, repeatedly, this an assumption I’d made that Knight had confirmed when I asked him.
I tried to smile through my tears and replied, “Good.”
“Dad’s pleased.” He kept sharing.
“Good,” I repeated on a hitched breath.
His arms left me so his hands could cup my jaw, his thumbs sliding through the wet on my cheeks and he ordered softly, “Baby, quit crying.”
I drew in a shaky breath. This didn’t work so I drew in another one.
On the fourth, I got it together.
“That’s it,” he muttered, his thumbs still moving through the wet.
I held onto him and held his eyes.
“You’re carrying my baby,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“You’re carrying my baby,” he repeated, his voice lower, gruff, thick.
I felt my nostrils quiver but I held it together and nodded.
His forehead dropped to mine, his nose slid along mine but his hands never left my face and I held my breath as he whispered with feeling, “Fuck me, f**k me, f**k me.”
Slowly, I closed my eyes.
He wanted this, my man. He wanted me to have his baby.
I opened my eyes.
“You’re happy?” I guessed, my voice quiet but the words were still pitched high with hope.
“Fuck, baby, yeah. Fuck yeah. You got my baby in you.”
“I was worried you’d be angry,” I admitted and his face went away just an inch.
“I get that. We haven’t discussed it. Though, sayin’ that, been thinkin’ for a while about talkin’ to you about it. Puttin’ that ring on your finger reminded me I needed to get to that. Fate jumped the gun. I’m not complaining.”
God, God, God.
I loved this man.
“So you want kids?” I ventured even though the answer was obvious.
Still, it was good I asked because he smiled and I loved to watch Knight smile.
“Absolutely.”
“How many?”
“Two,” he said immediately.
“Boys or girls?”
“Boys,” he said again immediately and I blinked.
“Really?”
“Babe, my life, girls?” He shook his head and kept shaking it when he went on, “Your beauty, even a little of it, you give that to our baby?” He stopped shaking his head and his fingers gave me a gentle squeeze. “Fuck no. I’ll need to buy more guns and hire more men.”
I giggled.
“Make me boys,” he ordered.
I giggled again.
Then I pointed out the obvious, “Not sure I can yield on that, sweetheart. Think that’s up to destiny.”
His mouth came to mine and he continued being bossy.
“Do the best you can do.”
“Okay, Knight.”
“All right, baby.”
God, God, God.
I loved this man.
After having that joyous thought, I got serious but did it quietly.
“Honey, you need to quit smoking.”
He held my eyes and instantly agreed, “Yeah.”
I relaxed deeper into him.
“You’re forgetting something,” he whispered against my lips.
“What?” I whispered against his, looking in his beautiful eyes.
“Babe, kiss me.”
I grinned against his mouth.
Then I pressed tight in a variety of places and I kissed him.
His hands left my jaw so his arms could cage me in close, tight, safe and warm and then my Knight kissed me.
* * * * *
I stood with just my head out the door to the balcony that led from the nursery and, adjusting the telephoto lens, I took the shot. Then another. Then another.
I pulled back. Moving my thumbs over the buttons, I checked the screen at the back of the camera.
Then I smiled.
I got it.
I carefully closed the door without a sound, walked into the room, put the camera on the dresser and walked out.
Then I walked to the kitchen and retrieved my mug of herbal tea.
After that, I moved to the glass doors to the balcony, skirting the sunken living room.
Knight was out there. He was slouched in a chair, feet up on the railing, ankles crossed, mug of coffee on the table beside him.
I moved through the doors to the empty chair angled toward his and caught the glimmer of sun glinting on the gold band on his finger that was on his hand which was resting on our baby girl’s rounded, diaper-covered booty. She was curled, dimpled knees tucked under her, little fist resting beside her face, asleep on her Daddy’s Black Sabbath tee-covered chest.
