Epilogue
Three months later…
Beth
Mom and I are sitting on her front porch swing on a Saturday morning sipping her homemade lemonade while we watch Shane teaching Luke how to ride a bicycle. Ava is inside Mom’s house, napping in a crib in the spare bedroom.
“Look at him,” I say as we watch Shane jogging alongside Luke as he pedals down our street on his shiny red Spiderman bike, followed by his cousin Aiden on a blue two-wheeler.
Luke is using training wheels. He’s not quite ready to ride without them.
“I keep telling him he’s pushing himself too hard, but he won’t listen. ”
“Of course not,” Mom says. “Honey, he’s a man. They can’t stand to feel weak, and they hate being told they can’t do something. Your dad was that way, too, bless his soul.”
Luke squeals with delight as he pedals his little heart out. “Look, Mama! I’m going FAST!”
“I see that!” I call out to him. “Good job, buddy!”
I’m itching to tell Shane, yet again, to take it easy, to sit down and watch from the sideline, but I don’t want to nag him. It’s a constant battle trying to keep him from overdoing things, whether it’s housework, yardwork, or playing with the kids.
He has made tremendous progress since he came home from the hospital. He completed six weeks of physical therapy with a therapist who came to our house twice a week. After the first week, he began working from home. Now, he’s back in the office five days a week.
Everything’s pretty much back to normal with one exception.
I rest my palm on my belly. I’m five months along now, and I’m definitely showing. It’s like my body says, Oh, yeah. I know how to do this.
To placate Shane, who worries about me constantly, I agreed to go in to work only two days a week for the time being. At least until I get closer to my due date.
“When’s your appointment?” Mom asks.
“Tomorrow at three.” I have an appointment with my obstetrician tomorrow. I’m at the twenty-week mark, which means we might be able to determine the baby’s gender at my ultrasound. “Shane’s taking a half day off from work to come with me.”
“I guess you’ll find out tomorrow, won’t you?”
I rub slow circles over my firm little baby bump. “I think I want it to be a surprise this time. I want to wait until the baby’s born to find out the gender.”
“Is this because of your dream?”
I told Mom about the dream I had when Shane was in the hospital—that we had a boy who looked like a pint-sized version of Shane, and we named him Wyatt.
I smile as I gaze down at the little mound beneath my top. “I know it was just a dream, and it doesn’t mean anything, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It gives me chills every time.”
A breathless Shane pushes Luke on his bike up my mom’s driveway and up to the porch.
“Did you see me, Mama?” Luke asks as he jumps off his bike. He unfastens his helmet and tosses it in the grass.
“I saw. Great job, honey.”
Luke joins us on the porch, running up to me and reaching for my glass of lemonade. “Can I have some?”
“Can I have some, too?” Aiden asks as he follows his cousin up onto the porch.
“Of course, you can,” Mom says as she heads back into the house to get three more glasses. “I’ll get you some.”
Shane leans against the porch railing across from me and tries to catch his breath.
“I warned you not to overdo it,” I remind him.
He grins guiltily. “Couldn’t be helped. Someone has to teach Luke to ride his bike, and you can’t do it right now. You’re five months pregnant.”
“You could ask Sam or Cooper,” I say.
“They’re not home.” Shane pushes away from the railing and walks over to me to steal my glass of lemonade and take a swig.
I chuckle at his impatience. “Mom’s getting you a glass.”
He winks at me. “I want yours.” He licks the rim of my glass, and then he leans down to kiss me, his lips cold from the icy drink.
Shane has been insatiable lately when it comes to sex. It’s perfectly fine with me because my hormones are through the roof right now, and I can’t get enough of him. If I weren’t already pregnant, then I would be soon.
Mom comes out carrying a tray with three glasses of lemonade. She hands one to each of the boys, and then she gives one to Shane. He hands me his fresh glass and takes mine instead, quickly finishing it off.
“Mama!” We can hear Ava through the open bedroom window. “Mama, uppie!”
“Sounds like naptime is over,” Shane says. “I’ll get her,” He sets his empty glass on the tray and heads to the door. As he passes me, he pats my baby bump.
As I watch Shane disappear into the house, a knot forms in my throat as it always does when I think back to the shooting and remember how close we came to losing him.
I honestly don’t know how I would have survived if that had happened.
* * *
That night, after the kids are in bed, Shane and I retire to our room for some quality alone time. We’ve been having a lot of that lately, and you won’t hear any complaints from me on that score.
I think the trauma we recently endured has heightened our sense of need for each other, both physically and emotionally, and of course that often translates into sex.
As I come out of our bathroom, I’m not even wearing pajamas. There’s no point in it.
Shane is sitting naked on the side of the bed, watching me as I approach. He holds out his hands, and as I walk up to him, he cups my abdomen.
“How’s my baby?” he asks before he leans forward to kiss the baby bump.
“He, or she, is doing fine,” I say as I thread my fingers through his hair. “I felt my first fluttering today.”
“I can’t wait for the ultrasound tomorrow,” he says.
“Speaking of that…”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to know the baby’s gender this time. I’d like it to be a surprise. Would you be okay with that?”
His initial reaction is to frown, but he mulls it over. “Well, okay, if you want to wait.”
“I do.” I kiss him. “I want it to be a surprise this time.”
“Sure.” He nods. “I’m okay with that.”
He stands and grips my hips so he can maneuver me onto the bed, on my hands and knees so that my ass is practically hanging off the edge of the bed.
Now that I’m showing, he’s worried about crushing me, so we’re doing it doggystyle most times. Either that, or lying on our sides, usually if I’m overly tired or just waking up.
Yeah, we’ve been having lots of morning sex lately.
Shane kneels down beside the bed and opens me gently with his fingers. I feel his warm breath on me a moment before I feel his tongue.
The instant I feel his touch, I groan loudly and lower my face to the mattress.
I fist the bedding as he proceeds to torture me with his mouth.
He flicks my clitoris with the tip of his tongue.
He flutters his tongue against my sensitive bud until I’m shaking.
The high-pitched sounds coming out of me are embarrassing, but he loves them.
When I’m close, on the edge, wet and aching, he slides his index finger inside me and strokes my sweet spot until an orgasm rips through me, and I’m left gasping.
A moment later, I feel the head of his erection circling my soft opening, dipping into the wetness there. Slowly, he sinks into me, an inch at a time.
I groan as he fills me, stretching me so perfectly. “Oh, God! Shane!”
He grips my hips firmly and holds me in place as he pushes deeper inside. Once he’s fully seated, he leans forward, covering my back, and presses kisses to my back and neck. Shivers skate along my nerve endings, rippling down my spine to my heated core, intensifying the delicious tingles and aches.
“My gorgeous, gorgeous sweetheart,” he says as he sinks into me. He reaches around me to stroke my sensitized clit as he thrusts in and out of me.
When his hand slides up to cradle my baby bump, I smile. I love this man so much I sometimes can’t bear it. “I love you!” I cry.
Suddenly, he bucks into me, sinking as deep as he can. I swear I can feel the hot rush of his orgasm as he fills me. “Say it again.”
“I love you,” I cry, my voice softer now.
We sink down together on the bed, and he pulls me into his arms. After kissing my forehead and the tip of my nose, he nudges my mouth open so his tongue can slip inside and stroke mine.
“I love you, too, wife,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse now from exertion.
When an image of him lying at my feet, covered in blood, resurfaces, my eyes flood with tears.
I almost lost him.
“Hey, no tears,” he says as he kisses me gently. He grabs the corner of a blanket and wipes the wetness from my cheeks. “This is a happy time. We’re whole and we’re happy and we’re going to welcome a new child to our family.”
I smile at him through my tears.
“That’s better,” he says, and then he draws me close.
* * *
Four months later…
“All right, Beth,” Dr. Shaw says. “Just one more push. We’re almost there.”
I summon all the strength I have in my exhausted body and push my new baby out into the world. There’s a mad rush of activity at the end of the bed as Dr. Shaw catches the baby.
“Here you go, Dad,” she says as she hands Shane a pair of surgical scissors. “You’re up.”
Shane cuts the baby’s cord. Then Dr. Shaw turns the baby over in her hands and massages its back. A moment later, we hear a hearty wail.
Finally, I can relax. Our baby is here, safe and sound.
As Dr. Shaw hands the baby to a nurse, I catch a quick glimpse of a little head full of brown hair.
The nurse does a quick check of the baby’s vitals before she brings it to me. “Would you like to meet your new son?” she asks as she lays the baby on my chest, skin to skin.
Our new son.
Shane is beside me once more, his gaze riveted to the sight of our new child. He gently cups the baby’s head with his hand and says, “Welcome to the family, Wyatt.”
* * *
Thank you for reading this new installment in Beth and Shane’s story!