Chapter 6
LAYLA
I’d been restless all night, and it made me wonder something.
You see, the only times in my life when I could never sleep were when my handsome, loving, ‘let’s have another kid’ obsessed husband had knocked me up.
Something about being pregnant affected my body and my cortisol, and I often got that three A.M. internal wake-up call, when I came to with a start and struggled getting back to sleep again.
I hadn’t woken up with a start as such; it was more like a gradual thing. In the end, I fluffed my pillows (again) and turned around to look at the clock through the darkness of the room.
3:01.
Ugh. It was no good. I was wide awake, and now I needed the bathroom.
With a frustrated sigh, I slid out from beneath the comforter, being careful not to wake Bowie, who was snoring gently beside me.
I smiled because the only time he ever snored was when he’d had a couple of beers.
Tonight, he’d imbibed a little more than normal, which was unusual for him, seeing as he liked to be clear-headed in case any of our kids had an accident and needed the Emergency Room.
Thankfully, nothing like that had ever happened, but Bowie was an honest-to-God, down-to-the-core family man, and everything my husband did was planned with our four babies in mind.
Plus, we had rambunctious three-year-old twin boys who enjoyed climbing up everything that posed a challenge—including structures that, for the normal human, were impossible to climb—as well as fist-fighting and pretending they were Ninja Warriors, so it was only a matter of time before somebody broke a body part or two.
And I had to face it, whatever Finn (the younger twin) did, Byron (the older twin by eight minutes) had to do better, so things could get bloody.
Tonight, the twins and their four-year-old sister, Willow, were with their Grandpa John and his wife, Elise, at their house down by the creek. My eldest daughter, Sunny, was at the clubhouse sleeping in another room alongside her best friend, Gabby.
It meant I didn’t have to do my nighttime ritual of going from room to room to check on babies. But still, I was awake anyway, so maybe it would be a good time to do a pregnancy test, seeing as there was no chance of being disturbed while I peed on a stick by a crying child having a bad dream.
I shoved my feet into my cozy slippers and shrugged my thick robe over my shoulders before heading into the bathroom.
The fact that my husband had been actively trying to knock me up since the twins turned a year old meant that I kept a selection of pregnancy tests in our bathroom cabinet at home and in our room at the clubhouse.
I opened the small, mirrored door and reached inside, pulling out the unopened Clearblue early detection digital test box.
I’d learned the hard way to go digital. It was better than trying to work out the result while squinting down at a faint, pink line like I had with Willow.
A clearly defined ‘pregnant’ or ‘not pregnant’ worked way better for me, and I was a mom of four, so everything I did these days was designed to save time.
After doing what I had to do, I laid the stick down next to the basin and washed my hands before closing the toilet lid and sitting on top of it to wait. I examined my fingernails, trying to look anywhere and do anything to distract myself for the next few minutes.
My mind wandered to what I’d do if the result was positive. Well, I knew I’d be having another baby, but I wondered how I’d cope with another kiddo. A small smile played around my lips because I knew I’d manage just fine.
Since the day I came to my first barbecue at the Speed Demons’ clubhouse, my life had changed. Bowie and his brothers had given me something I lost years before and never thought I’d get back.
Hope.
My life pre-Bowie hadn’t been easy. I was a single mom, living in a town where self-proclaimed ‘Christians’ were everything but.
I struggled not only financially, but emotionally, too, especially when the so-called good people of Hambleton treated me like dirt for having a child out of wedlock.
There was nobody to help and nobody to turn to apart from my best friend (and now Cash’s ol’ lady), Cara.
Things started looking up when Anna Bouchard, the salon owner at the time, offered me a job.
Then Bowie and I got together, and he brought his family and the club along with him and irrevocably changed mine and Sunny’s lives.
I loved my life so much and never took it for granted.
I lost my dad at a young age, and my mom turned to the bottle soon after, so we’d been estranged since I was around sixteen.
When she wasn’t neglecting me, she was mentally abusing me; therefore, when I found my Speed Demon family, I found everything.
It sounded stupid even to my own ears, but since meeting my husband, I understood my mom more, because I realized that if I ever lost Bowie, a part of me would die with him, and I’d be lost in my grief, just like she was.
My husband and I had been through a lot together—not all of it good—but we always managed to overcome adversity and use whatever drama was unfolding to bring us closer together.
The only time we weren’t on the same page was when we discovered Bowie’s sister, Freya, had been secretly seeing Colt, one of his brothers, which went against club rules.
Bowie took a stand against them because they lied.
Everybody thought he was being a dick, and he was, to a point, but I also knew he was hurt.
Bowie loved his sister, and he loved Colt too, so for him it was a double betrayal.
Then he found out that everybody knew except for him, and it broke his heart that Freya hadn’t given him her trust.
At the time, I tried to talk him around because I never agreed with his reaction to what happened.
Moreover, it shocked me that he could be so vengeful, but over time, I began to see things clearer and realized that hurt people hurt people, and although I never agreed with cutting Freya off the way he did, I could agree to differ.
Bowie was an amazing husband and father, and he always had my back.
Since we first met, we’d lived by the mantra ‘me and you against the world,’ and we did it every day.
Therefore, even though I often didn’t understand Bowie’s actions, to the outside world, we sang from the same hymn sheet.
I spoke up regularly, but it was always behind closed doors because we swore that when it came to public perception and our kids, we would always support each other.
It’s what made our marriage work and something we would never compromise on.
Not ever.
My gaze fell on the test, and I smiled.
It was time.
Reaching out, I picked it up and stared down at the tiny window that revealed something wonderful, and life-changing, and so damned scary that my heart gave a hard thud.
I was pregnant.
Again.
Oh. My. God.
My body flopped back until my spine hit the cold cistern attached to the wall behind me, while I let my huge discovery sink in.
God help me, I was going to have another baby.
Five kids under five, maybe even six, if Supersperm Alpha Biker in the other room had managed to double-impregnate me again, which he swore he’d do if we ever had another kid.
Oh, Jesus.
Getting to my feet, I automatically headed for the doorway.
I needed to tell Bowie we were pregnant again.
He’d be so happy, and I couldn’t wait to see the look of excitement flash across his face before his expression softened, and his golden eyes gazed lovingly into mine.
I loved his eyes; Willow had them, and I hoped our new baby would too.
But when I walked toward the bed, something stopped me.
Bowie had been drinking, and I didn’t want to tell him the news while he was tired and hungover, which he would be if I woke him up after he’d only gotten two hours of sleep.
It seemed wrong somehow.
The problem was, I was wide awake, and my belly was filled with so many darn butterflies that I knew it would be impossible to sleep. I chewed on my bottom lip, wondering if maybe some cocoa would help.
Decision made, I exited the bedroom and crept slowly down the hallway, passing the room where Sunny and Gabby were fast asleep. I hesitated as I passed and quietly opened the door, sticking my head around to check on the kids.
The TV screen was flickering with an old black-and-white Hammer Horror movie.
The sound was turned low enough that Sunshine and Gabby, who were snuggled under the comforter on top of the bed, slept peacefully.
My gaze then fell on DJ, who was breathing rhythmically under a blanket on the floor beside them, and I smiled to myself.
Sunny and Gabs had probably scared the wits out of themselves, and DJ, ever the protector, had stepped in to play hero.
Softly chuckling, I closed the door quietly and continued toward the stairs leading down to the ground floor.
Lamps were turned on, lighting my way, almost beckoning me to carry on to my destination.
My slippered feet were light as I traipsed downstairs and then turned toward the corridor leading to the kitchen.
The door was already open, so I reached to the side of it and clicked the switch on the wall, bathing the room in light.
My head turned to see somebody already sitting at the table. A tall man with chestnut hair, much the same color as mine.
“Oh, hi,” I murmured, walking into the room and moving toward the cupboard where we kept the stove-top kettle. “Couldn’t you sleep, either?”
“No, Layla,” the man answered. “I don’t sleep much.”
Something in the man’s voice made my body freeze.
It was strangely familiar, but at the same time, not one I recognized. The soft tone in it, along with the hint of humor, struck a chord in the deep recesses of my mind, and my heart began to race.