Never Say Never: Gravel Hill Boys Book Two

57. Madison

Despite havingmy legs wrapped around a giant body pillow and a giant auburn-haired bass player wrapped around me, I couldn’t sleep.

Even the steady drumming of the rain on the tin roof—a sound I’d come to love—couldn’t lull me to sleep.

Between my embarrassingly absent family, my father’s ridiculous baby shower gift, my mother’s disappearing act, and the hormonal cocktail of emotions swirling through my brain, not to mention having to rush to the bathroom every fifteen minutes, sleep was elusive if not downright impossible.

Lying there, I replayed the moment before I opened that card from my father. Not sure what I’d wanted it to say, but wishing for something other than an impersonal note from his secretary, I was again disappointed. I guess it was too much to expect a few words from him that would make me feel loved and let me know that he was excited to soon meet his first grandchild.

As usual, I was nothing but a problem that kept popping up. Scratch that. Not a problem; a complication. Problems needed to be solved. Complications you could throw money at and hope they would go away.

Few people would look at a gift of fifty thousand dollars and be disappointed, but that was exactly what I was. Disappointed. Hurt. Insulted. Which explained why I’d torn the check into pieces the moment I was alone. Of course, I then regretted not donating the money to a woman’s shelter or something.

Despite the soothing sound of the rain, and the warmth of Ian’s body, my self-worth was in shambles and my brain in chaos.

With a huff, I tried to settle onto my back. Easier said than done. Whatever position the baby had taken over the past few days had me chronically uncomfortable. I was as agile as a beached whale and probably looked like one.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Ian mumbled into my hair. “You can’t sleep?”

“No.” I hated whining, but it was all that I had in me.

“Can I rub your back?”

“I just rolled onto my back.” Was I unexplainably peeved that he hadn’t woken up and offered to rub my back before I hoisted my great white whale self into this position? Apparently.

“What can I do for you?”

“Nothing.”

“How about a glass of milk?”

“I don’t know.”

“Cocoa?”

“We’re out of whipped cream.” Jeez, what a whiney little bitch I was.

“I bought more.” His lips ghosted the shell of my ear, and my cranky brain settled down for a bit.

In the low light from the bathroom, I could see that Ian’s eyes were still closed. I huffed again, both hating myself for waking him, but wanting hot cocoa and whipped cream more.

“I’m going,” he said, throwing back the blankets and rolling onto his back, but that was as far as he got. A moment later his breath evened out. He’d fallen back to sleep.

There was no reason to make him miserable as well. I pushed myself up and rearranged the covers over him, then slipped out of bed.

Looping a hand under my belly, I waddled into the kitchen. I wasn’t due for another two weeks, but it felt as if the baby’s head was already between my legs. If this was what Dr. Abernathy had called lightening, the word was a misnomer; there was nothing light about it.

Usually, Ian made me cocoa from scratch, but I had no idea how, so I settled for instant. I should learn how to make it, especially if our child liked to play in the snow. My mother never made me hot cocoa, of course, but I had no plans to be like my mother.

While I waited for the water to boil, I looked out the kitchen window and was surprised to see the grass and trees were coated in a thin layer of white. The hard pinging on the roof had softened and snow was falling. Light from the porch spilled into the yard, turning everything it touched into a shimmering crystal landscape.

Snow in the city was mostly an annoyance. It was something I only appreciated when vacationing in St. Moritz or on a quick ski trip to Vail—not that I’d done much skiing over the past few years. I’d been busy. Busy graduating at the top of my class. Busy building a successful business from the ground up. Busy trying to get the attention of the man who’d pretty much walked out of my life the same time he and my mother opened their marriage.

And for what? Fifty thousand dollars and a note from his secretary?

My belly tightened in a wave and grew hard. I was stressed and tired. Why not throw in some Braxton Hicks contractions for fun?

The kettle whistled. I flicked off the burner so as not to wake Ian and poured the boiling water over the powdered cocoa mix. I topped it with a tower of whipped cream because why not?

Since I’d given up on trying to sleep, I jammed my feet into a pair of fur-lined boots, slipped on my coat—which no longer buttoned over my girth—and tugged a quilt off the back of the sofa. Finn lay curled up on his bed near the cold fireplace. His eyes followed my movement.

“Want to come outside with me?” I asked, using the baby talk I’d recently adopted when speaking to him.

He blinked but made no move to join me.

Smart dog. “Suit yourself.” I waddled out onto the porch where I wrapped myself in the quilt and settled into one of the Adirondack chairs, forgetting that I wouldn’t be able to get out.

“Fuck,” I muttered aloud. I rarely cursed, which only proved how miserable I was. Fortunately, Ian was usually a light sleeper. If I couldn’t get up, I’d just yell and pray he’d hear me.

My belly tightened. It lasted about thirty seconds and felt the same as before. With everything else going on in my head, I shoved it to the back of my brain. We were flying back to Philadelphia tomorrow morning, and I would see my doctor in the afternoon. For now, I was going to enjoy the quiet snowfall, drink my cocoa, and calm my thoughts.

The air was cold and the night was heavy with silence. Not a bird call. Not a truck rumbling down the two-lane in the distance. The only sound was the muffled patter of snow and sleet on the metal roof overhead.

I was sad to be leaving Ashwood. It could be weeks before we’d get back. I was a city girl, but life here was different. Not at all what I’d expected or what I thought I’d enjoy. But I loved having Ian’s undivided attention and his concern for my comfort. For a woman who’d been spoiled all her life, Ian knew what I really needed and gave it to me with love and a wide-open heart. And then there was his family. I loved their closeness, and I loved how his friends and this community made me feel as if I belonged.

It was heady stuff for someone raised on the periphery. My only worry was figuring out how to give back to Ian all that he’d given me.

I filled my lungs with wintry air and exhaled, watching my breath curl in front of me. As it did, I tried to picture years of hurt and disappointment being released into the cold, quiet night, then turning to ice and shattering into nothingness. My mind began to quiet.

The front door opened, and Ian stepped outside. His feet bare, he wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered, wearing nothing but his plaid flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeve tee. His hair stood on end, and while the worried look on his face was my fault, I couldn’t help but appreciate how adorable he was.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice deep and scratchy, and his eyes swollen with sleep. “It’s freezing out here.”

I clung to my mug of cocoa in one hand and clasped the quilt closed with the other. “I couldn’t sleep, and it’s peaceful out here. I’m going to miss this.”

“C’mon inside,” he insisted. “You’re gonna get sick. Let me start a fire and you can enjoy the peace from the living room where it’s warm. I’ll even drag a chair over to the window if you want.” He took the mug from me and held out his hand.

I laughed. “You’re going to have to do better than that. I can’t get up.”

Grumbling about me “catchin’ my death,” he set down the mug and lifted me to my feet. “No more sitting in these chairs until after the baby comes.”

“Since we’re leaving soon, it won’t be a problem.”

With a great yawn, he hustled me inside. “Do you want more cocoa?”

I rested my head against his chest. “No, thanks. Let’s go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I just woke up missing you. C’mon. I’ll rub your back.”

I tossed the quilt onto the arm of the sofa in the darkened living room. “Will you sing to me?”

“Absolutely, darlin’.”

Hours later, I opened my eyes to an empty bed and the aroma of coffee and bacon wafting in from the kitchen. I must’ve fallen asleep after Ian tucked me in, rubbed my back, and sang to me. I wasn’t even fully awake, but if I hadn’t been so hungry, I would’ve gone back to sleep.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for my equilibrium to catch up before trying to stand, when Ian appeared in the doorway looking as hot as ever, wearing gray sweatpants and a tight T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, while I looked and felt like a snail carrying it’s house.

“How’d you sleep?”

“I think I slept, but I’m exhausted.” I held out my arms signaling for him to help me stand since I couldn’t find the energy or ability to do it on my own.

After helping me up, Ian came in for a kiss, but I turned my head. “Ack. Morning breath.”

He pulled away. “I brushed my teeth.”

“Not you. Me.”

“I keep telling you, I don’t care.” He came in close while I rolled my lips together. “Give us a kiss.”

Trying not to laugh, I clamped my lips tighter and shook my head, but that didn’t stop him. He moved on to my neck and shoulders. “Stop,” I said, laughing. “You’re going to make me pee right here if you don’t let me go.”

Of course he didn’t listen. Instead, he swept me off my feet and carried me to the bathroom, depositing me right in front of the toilet.

I nearly sighed with relief. “Well done, you. Now get out.” Our relationship did not include sharing a bathroom in such a manner.

“Fine,” he said, closing the door. “Breakfast is almost ready. Do you want it in bed, the dining area, or at the kitchen counter?”

Climbing onto a kitchen stool was out of the question, so I opted for the dining area, although breakfast in bed sounded like exactly what I needed. Followed by a nap.

I shuffled into the main room and over to the dining table, too tired to pick up my feet, and sat. A plate of scrambled eggs and bacon appeared in front of me with a wedge of honeydew melon and a cup of what looked like homemade cocoa topped with a mountain of whipped cream. My mouth watered.

I snatched a piece of bacon off my plate and bit into it. “What happens after the baby’s born? I may go through withdrawal after all this attention.”

Ian squirted a dollop of ketchup onto his eggs, and I grimaced. “What makes you think I’ll treat you any differently? I’m crazy about you. That’s not gonna change.”

It had been my experience that things always change, so I didn’t know how to respond. Instead, I smiled and dug into my breakfast, then savored my hot chocolate. When I’d finished, I carried my cup into the living room where a fire crackled. I stood at the window and looked out into the yard.

Everything was white, and while it had stopped snowing, sleet beat a heavy rhythm on the metal roof. Ice covered every branch and each leaf stubbornly clinging to the trees that lined the driveway. The boxwood shrubs that stood sentinel along the front walkway bore a thick, glassy coat of ice. Even in the low light of the storm, everything shimmered and sparkled.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, not sure I’d ever seen such beauty. Certainly not in the city where pristine white snow quickly turned to messy gray slush before melting into nothingness.

The estate where I’d grown up was beautiful in winter, but I couldn’t ever recall this type of otherworldly encapsulation before.

Ian came up and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, holding me close against his chest while I gazed out at our winter wonderland.

“I’m worried about getting back to the city tomorrow. We may need to push it back another day.”

“My appointment with Dr. Abernathy is tomorrow afternoon.”

“I know, but with all this ice, it might be hard to get out of here. I called Joey to come and plow, but he’s not sure he can get up the driveway with all the ice. Besides, your pilot might not even fly if this continues.”

“Probably not.” I rubbed a protective hand over my swollen belly. “I’ll call the office and reschedule. Dr. Abernathy isn’t going to be happy with us.” At my last appointment, she had suggested we stay in Philadelphia, but we promised we’d return immediately after Thanksgiving; sooner if necessary. Instead, with the baby shower yesterday and me being so tired, we decided to wait until tomorrow morning to fly back. The storm was a beautiful, unexpected surprise.

“At least Joey promised we’d be first on the list when he can get out.”

“Did you throw money at him?”

Ian snickered. “It wouldn’t matter. He’s a good guy, and he’d do it even if there wasn’t a bonus in it for him. Our driveway is so long, he’ll make a good chunk of change regardless.”

“You might want to get a pickup truck and a plow to keep here once the new house is built.”

“Yee haw. We’re gonna make you a country girl yet. Can I get you to wear a pair of Daisy Dukes and go muddin’ with me?” He bumped his shoulder against mine.

“I don’t know what any of that means, so I’m going to say no.”

My belly cramped and I grimaced. Ian didn’t miss a thing.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, guiding me onto the sofa.

“False labor.”

“Jesus, don’t even say that.”

“Relax. We’ve got more than two weeks and first babies are notoriously late.”

“Maybe I will throw some money at Joey and tell him to get his ass up here. Then I’ll call Robert and have him get the plane on standby.”

I rolled my eyes at the nervous father-to-be. “I’m fine. I’m not in labor. I’m just feeling crampy. Probably because the baby is so low now.”

Ian raked a hand through his hair and watched me as if I might explode any second now.

“Help me up,” I begged, having just sat down.

He jumped into action. “What’s wrong?”

“Bathroom. And then, if you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down again.”

He helped me to my feet. “You want to lie on the sofa? Watch TV?”

“Later. I think I just want to catch up on the sleep I missed last night.” I lifted my chin and kissed his lips.

“Mind if I play my guitar in here? I’ll keep it quiet. Ballads only. I won’t even sing.”

“It won’t bother me at all, and please sing. I love it when you do.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

The color had returned to his face, so I didn’t bother telling him how frequently I’d been having cramps. There was no reason to freak him out over nothing but a little discomfort. Especially when there was nothing we could do about it. The cramps should go away when I laid down, so that was what I was banking on.

A nap would do me a world of good, and later, I had every intention of curling up beside him and watching a cheesy Christmas movie.

December was less than a week away, so ‘tis the season.