Stumbling into Love
Page 39
I laugh while turning to put on my seat belt.
“Oh.” I pull in a quick breath as a sharp pain shoots through my abdomen.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?” he repeats, sounding on edge.
“I . . . Oh!” I grab hold of my stomach when another sharp pain hits me.
“You’re not okay,” he growls.
I bite my lip. He’s right, I’m not okay.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“It’s too soon for me to have the baby.”
“It’s not too soon.” He rests his open palm over my stomach. “He’s already nine pounds, and his lungs are developed. If he’s coming early, everything will be okay. Okay?”
“Okay.” Feeling slightly reassured, I take one deep breath, then another, as he pulls the car out into traffic and rushes us to the hospital. We call my parents and everyone on the way.
WESLEY
“Push!” the doctor instructs.
Mackenzie bears down once more while squeezing my fingers so tight that I swear she’s going to cause them to fall off from lack of blood flow.
“You’re doing so good, gorgeous. Just keep pushing,” I encourage gently.
“Shut up! No one wants your stupid advice! It’s your fault that I’m in this situation, you jerk!” she screams, her face turning red.
I would be offended by the outburst, but just minutes ago she was telling me how much she loved me. Since going into labor, she has adopted multiple personalities.
“I know it’s my fault. I’m sorry,” I agree. She squeezes harder.
I hate this. I hate that she’s in pain.
“Okay, relax for me,” the doctor says.
She falls back on the bed and closes her eyes. Taking the wet washcloth off her brow, I kiss her forehead and replace it with a new one that’s cold.
“I see the head. Let’s go again!” the doctor calls.
I hold on to her hand and pull back her knee while the nurse across from me does the same thing.
“He’s here!” the doctor says.
I stupidly look down between Mackenzie’s legs, instantly regretting it when I see blood—lots of blood—and a round object ripping her open.
“He’s going down!” I hear someone shout at the other end of the tunnel I’ve fallen into, right before everything goes dark.
Hearing a beep, beep, beep, I squint my eyes open against the bright light above me. Someone is shining a flashlight in my eyes.
“Welcome back.” Mackenzie smiles at me, and I shake my head and sit up.
“What happened?”
“You passed out,” the nurse says while she rolls her eyes.
“I passed out . . .”
I look around, and my stomach drops. Seeing Mackenzie adjust a bundle of blankets against her chest, everything comes back to me. Baby! She was having our baby. Quickly getting up, I rush across the room and straight through the nurses moving around at her side.
“Are you okay? Are you both okay?”
“We are both fine.” She pulls back the edge of the blanket, and tears fill my eyes as I fall instantly in love for the second time in my life.
Our son is adorable. He’s the perfect mixture of his mom and me. When he opens his eyes and looks up at me, the tears I was trying to control spill over.
“I know that we were still trying to come up with a name for him,” she says.
I kiss the top of his head.
“Do you have an idea?” I ask, sliding my fingers across his fuzz-covered head.
“Dustin.”
“Really?” My voice sounds like I just swallowed gravel.
“He looks like a Dustin, doesn’t he?” she asks, touching her fingers to his nose and then his chin.
“He does,” I agree, resting my lips on her forehead. “Thank you, gorgeous.”
“For what?” She pulls her eyes from our boy to look at me.
“For everything. For bringing me back to life and giving me something to fight for.”
“I love you, Wesley.” She tucks her forehead into my throat, and I hold her and our son. I vow then and there to keep them safe always.
Seven months later . . .
WESLEY
“I love you, gorgeous, but if your mom doesn’t give me my boy and get the hell out of our house, I’m going to lose my mind,” I growl, standing above Mackenzie in the bathtub. Seeing her naked is making me hard, but I try to ignore that.
Peeking up at me, she squints her eyes. “You want me to go out and tell my mom to hand over her grandson and go home?” she asks, sounding like my request is irrational.
“Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest.
She stands up in the bath, and water skims down her body. God, I thought I couldn’t keep my hands off her before the pregnancy, but since she’s had our son, I have become obsessed—or more obsessed—than ever.
“Do not even think about it.” She holds out her hand, pressing it against my chest when I take a step toward her. “Please hand me a towel.” She wiggles her fingers.
Reluctantly, I hand one over and watch her cover herself up. Without even bothering to dry off, she stomps past me, through the bedroom, and into the living room. She comes to a stop in front of her mom, who is sitting on the couch cooing at seven-month-old Dustin.
“Mom, what did I tell you about giving Dustin to Wesley when he asks for him?” she asks, crossing her arms over her towel-covered chest.
“I was feeding him,” Katie lies, trying to look innocent.
Everyone knows that the woman is a baby hog.
“Well, he’s not eating now. So please hand him over to his father so that he can spend some time with him and I can continue taking my bath.”
“Oh, fine,” she huffs as she stands. Bringing him to me, she mutters “snitch” under her breath. She gives me the evil eye before kissing my son and placing him in my arms.
She heads off to the front door, where she picks up her purse. “I won’t see you guys until next weekend.”
“Bummer . . . ,” I mutter only loud enough for Mackenzie to hear.
She smacks my chest before walking toward her mom.
“Thank you for coming over and watching Dustin for us today.”
“Anytime.” She gives Mackenzie a peck on the cheek and me another glare before she leaves.
I ignore the look—I’m used to them. She and I constantly go round and round about Dustin. On the one hand, I love that she’s always willing to step in when we need her. On the other, when I want my son, I want my son. I probably shouldn’t have bought a house down the block from Mackenzie’s parents. I didn’t think about what it would be like to live so close to her mom.
“Thank you, gorgeous.” I kiss the side of Mackenzie’s head when her mom leaves.
She rolls her eyes, then heads back to the bathroom. I take Dustin into the bedroom. Lying down with him on the bed, I stare into his eyes. They look just like his mom’s. I smile when he does.
“I know you like spending time with your grandma, but she has to learn to share,” I tell him.
He smiles a toothless smile, then babbles something I can’t make out. Probably something about how much he loves his grandma.
“I know, kid,” I agree, bringing him to my chest and holding him there. I close my eyes and listen to my son’s breath even out, then I fall asleep with him.
When Mackenzie gets out of the bath, she wakes up both of us.
“One more,” I say to Mackenzie as she tucks Dustin into his bed, bending over the side to kiss his forehead.
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, running her finger down our son’s cheek.
She hasn’t gotten on birth control since Dustin was born, and I have been attempting to convince her for weeks that we should have another baby. She wants to wait until after we get married. I told her that it doesn’t matter. We can get married at the courthouse as soon as she wants—the only rule is that her dad gets to be there to give her away.
“Who knows how long it will take to conceive? We got lucky last time, and that is not always the case . . . ,” I remind her as we get into bed. Curling to my side, I wrap my hand around her hip. “I want Dustin to have a sibling to grow up with. I want him to have a best friend.”
“Oh.” I pull in a quick breath as a sharp pain shoots through my abdomen.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?” he repeats, sounding on edge.
“I . . . Oh!” I grab hold of my stomach when another sharp pain hits me.
“You’re not okay,” he growls.
I bite my lip. He’s right, I’m not okay.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“It’s too soon for me to have the baby.”
“It’s not too soon.” He rests his open palm over my stomach. “He’s already nine pounds, and his lungs are developed. If he’s coming early, everything will be okay. Okay?”
“Okay.” Feeling slightly reassured, I take one deep breath, then another, as he pulls the car out into traffic and rushes us to the hospital. We call my parents and everyone on the way.
WESLEY
“Push!” the doctor instructs.
Mackenzie bears down once more while squeezing my fingers so tight that I swear she’s going to cause them to fall off from lack of blood flow.
“You’re doing so good, gorgeous. Just keep pushing,” I encourage gently.
“Shut up! No one wants your stupid advice! It’s your fault that I’m in this situation, you jerk!” she screams, her face turning red.
I would be offended by the outburst, but just minutes ago she was telling me how much she loved me. Since going into labor, she has adopted multiple personalities.
“I know it’s my fault. I’m sorry,” I agree. She squeezes harder.
I hate this. I hate that she’s in pain.
“Okay, relax for me,” the doctor says.
She falls back on the bed and closes her eyes. Taking the wet washcloth off her brow, I kiss her forehead and replace it with a new one that’s cold.
“I see the head. Let’s go again!” the doctor calls.
I hold on to her hand and pull back her knee while the nurse across from me does the same thing.
“He’s here!” the doctor says.
I stupidly look down between Mackenzie’s legs, instantly regretting it when I see blood—lots of blood—and a round object ripping her open.
“He’s going down!” I hear someone shout at the other end of the tunnel I’ve fallen into, right before everything goes dark.
Hearing a beep, beep, beep, I squint my eyes open against the bright light above me. Someone is shining a flashlight in my eyes.
“Welcome back.” Mackenzie smiles at me, and I shake my head and sit up.
“What happened?”
“You passed out,” the nurse says while she rolls her eyes.
“I passed out . . .”
I look around, and my stomach drops. Seeing Mackenzie adjust a bundle of blankets against her chest, everything comes back to me. Baby! She was having our baby. Quickly getting up, I rush across the room and straight through the nurses moving around at her side.
“Are you okay? Are you both okay?”
“We are both fine.” She pulls back the edge of the blanket, and tears fill my eyes as I fall instantly in love for the second time in my life.
Our son is adorable. He’s the perfect mixture of his mom and me. When he opens his eyes and looks up at me, the tears I was trying to control spill over.
“I know that we were still trying to come up with a name for him,” she says.
I kiss the top of his head.
“Do you have an idea?” I ask, sliding my fingers across his fuzz-covered head.
“Dustin.”
“Really?” My voice sounds like I just swallowed gravel.
“He looks like a Dustin, doesn’t he?” she asks, touching her fingers to his nose and then his chin.
“He does,” I agree, resting my lips on her forehead. “Thank you, gorgeous.”
“For what?” She pulls her eyes from our boy to look at me.
“For everything. For bringing me back to life and giving me something to fight for.”
“I love you, Wesley.” She tucks her forehead into my throat, and I hold her and our son. I vow then and there to keep them safe always.
Seven months later . . .
WESLEY
“I love you, gorgeous, but if your mom doesn’t give me my boy and get the hell out of our house, I’m going to lose my mind,” I growl, standing above Mackenzie in the bathtub. Seeing her naked is making me hard, but I try to ignore that.
Peeking up at me, she squints her eyes. “You want me to go out and tell my mom to hand over her grandson and go home?” she asks, sounding like my request is irrational.
“Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest.
She stands up in the bath, and water skims down her body. God, I thought I couldn’t keep my hands off her before the pregnancy, but since she’s had our son, I have become obsessed—or more obsessed—than ever.
“Do not even think about it.” She holds out her hand, pressing it against my chest when I take a step toward her. “Please hand me a towel.” She wiggles her fingers.
Reluctantly, I hand one over and watch her cover herself up. Without even bothering to dry off, she stomps past me, through the bedroom, and into the living room. She comes to a stop in front of her mom, who is sitting on the couch cooing at seven-month-old Dustin.
“Mom, what did I tell you about giving Dustin to Wesley when he asks for him?” she asks, crossing her arms over her towel-covered chest.
“I was feeding him,” Katie lies, trying to look innocent.
Everyone knows that the woman is a baby hog.
“Well, he’s not eating now. So please hand him over to his father so that he can spend some time with him and I can continue taking my bath.”
“Oh, fine,” she huffs as she stands. Bringing him to me, she mutters “snitch” under her breath. She gives me the evil eye before kissing my son and placing him in my arms.
She heads off to the front door, where she picks up her purse. “I won’t see you guys until next weekend.”
“Bummer . . . ,” I mutter only loud enough for Mackenzie to hear.
She smacks my chest before walking toward her mom.
“Thank you for coming over and watching Dustin for us today.”
“Anytime.” She gives Mackenzie a peck on the cheek and me another glare before she leaves.
I ignore the look—I’m used to them. She and I constantly go round and round about Dustin. On the one hand, I love that she’s always willing to step in when we need her. On the other, when I want my son, I want my son. I probably shouldn’t have bought a house down the block from Mackenzie’s parents. I didn’t think about what it would be like to live so close to her mom.
“Thank you, gorgeous.” I kiss the side of Mackenzie’s head when her mom leaves.
She rolls her eyes, then heads back to the bathroom. I take Dustin into the bedroom. Lying down with him on the bed, I stare into his eyes. They look just like his mom’s. I smile when he does.
“I know you like spending time with your grandma, but she has to learn to share,” I tell him.
He smiles a toothless smile, then babbles something I can’t make out. Probably something about how much he loves his grandma.
“I know, kid,” I agree, bringing him to my chest and holding him there. I close my eyes and listen to my son’s breath even out, then I fall asleep with him.
When Mackenzie gets out of the bath, she wakes up both of us.
“One more,” I say to Mackenzie as she tucks Dustin into his bed, bending over the side to kiss his forehead.
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, running her finger down our son’s cheek.
She hasn’t gotten on birth control since Dustin was born, and I have been attempting to convince her for weeks that we should have another baby. She wants to wait until after we get married. I told her that it doesn’t matter. We can get married at the courthouse as soon as she wants—the only rule is that her dad gets to be there to give her away.
“Who knows how long it will take to conceive? We got lucky last time, and that is not always the case . . . ,” I remind her as we get into bed. Curling to my side, I wrap my hand around her hip. “I want Dustin to have a sibling to grow up with. I want him to have a best friend.”
