Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
A s each month went by, I got more used to Karen, the older of the two midwives, visiting us at home. Greeting her like she was an old friend, Harper appeared relaxed and felt confident she’d made the right choice about where she wanted our baby to be born.
As the due date drew nearer, the midwife service visits became more frequent and Harper arranged some of them to coincide with when Layla was at home. Personally, the thought of Layla being present at the birth freaked me the fuck out. I had no idea what to expect myself. I’d never attended a natural birth… or a birth of any kind for that matter, and at the back of my mind I figured Layla may herself back out when she saw Harper in pain.
Karen encouraged me to express all my concerns and reassured me I wasn’t unique in being worried about the birth, reassuring me my feelings were the same as most fathers. While Harper was dealing with Layla at one point, Karen asked me how I thought Harper was coping, and when I called Harper an Earth Mother, the midwife’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“You know this term?” she probed.
“Yeah, Harper’s an angel and a natural mother. She cares for everyone and sees everything in the simplest terms. She takes everything in her stride. Apart from the biological aspect, Harper’s been a true mother in every other sense of the word to Layla. Even before we got together, she always challenged me if I went against the grain to what she believed was in Layla’s best interests.”
Since we’d been to visit Harper’s parents, and I’d broken the ice with them, her mom and sister had made more of an effort to visit, but it was apparent to me none of her family were close. I guessed some just weren’t. Part of me wondered if Harper’s closeness with Layla filled a void she’d missed out on herself.
No matter the reason, I was deeply grateful she’d come into our lives. When I thought back to my conversation with JoAnn, it challenged me to look objectively at how I now treated Layla. It had made me realize how special Harper was, because if it hadn’t been for Harper’s care and encouragement of me, my daughter may well have felt how JoAnn did about her father.
“Your belly looks like a huge pumpkin. It’s going to burst,” Layla advised Harper as she lay back on the couch with her T-shirt pulled up and her belly sticking out.
“Our baby is growing fast now,” Harper informed Layla, as my daughter stroked her bump over and over.
“Wow, did you see that, Daddy?” Layla asked in an excited tone, as the baby’s movement rippled beneath Harper’s taut skin.
“Yeah, watch this,” I told Layla as I crawled over the floor on my hands and knees and placed my lips to Harper’s belly, I began to sing “Baby I Love You,” by The Ramones. What neither Layla nor Harper knew was it was the tune I used to sing to Layla before she was born. There was something about this song that touched my heart and it had made every playlist I’d ever put together.
Halfway through the song, I glanced up at Layla and noticed she was sitting back on her knees beside Harper, swaying gently to the song, and Harper’s bump began to roll back and forth from left to right, in the same way Layla had when she was inside Grace.
“Oh, look, our baby is dancing to Daddy’s song,” she marveled, her eyes glittering with excitement.
Gently, Harper caressed my head and my throat immediately constricted. Suddenly, my voice cracked, the emotion of the moment preventing me from continuing and I sat up. Tears spilled from Harper’s eyes and Layla immediately cuddled her.
“What’s wrong, my Harper?” she asked, her little voice full of concern.
“Nothing at all, Baby, I’m really happy,” she replied, pulling Layla and me forward to cuddle us both at the same time.
I glanced, concerned for Layla, and noted again it was the second time she’d used the word my before Harper. “Why do you say my Harper?” I probed.
“Because you say my girl. She’s not my girl, she’s my Harper,” Layla explained with a shrug. Harper and I shot each other a look that said we’d come back to this later and let it slide.
Later that night in bed, I thought about what Layla said again. In fact, Harper and the new baby’s status had been on my mind since the day she’d told me she was pregnant. Although I regarded all of them as mine, it began to bug me that Harper and the baby would have different names to Layla and me.
As Harper Tennison, Harper had stated the baby’s surname would be Tennison-Harkin, and that immediately set Layla and her sibling aside. I wanted both my babies to have the same name, but more than that, I wanted Harper to have mine.
“Harper?” I murmured, turning to spoon behind her, as best I could, with the pillows anchored between her legs and another stuffed under her bump.
“Mm?” she mumbled, sleepily.
“Do you want to marry me?”
Harper’s body stiffened.
“Can you ask me again tomorrow,” she muttered in a sleepy state.
“I’d rather know now,” I insisted.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to lie awake all night wondering,” I replied.
“No, not that, I mean why ask?”
“Because I think I’m ready… no, I’m sure I’m ready to take this step with you, and I couldn’t have gotten here without your love.”
“Good answer, but I’m quite content, Cole. We don’t need anyone to officiate what we’ve got. ”
“Are you reluctant because you think I’m replacing Grace? That’s not what I’m doing. This is a second chance at a new beginning I never thought possible, and it ties up who we all are to each other perfectly.”
Turning slowly, she molded herself to me as much as she could and wrapped her arms around me.
“Explain.”
“My girl doesn’t begin to describe who you are to me. I want you to be mine. That means you taking my name, our children having my name, our family having a family name. Layla having a mother for the first time in her memory, both kids having a mom as well as a dad.”
“Having your name has never mattered to me. Having the man is much more important. If it makes you happy we’ll get married… make it neat for the kids, but it won’t change how I feel about you and it won’t—”
“I know, but I think it will make our children feel we all belong together. You’ll be Layla’s mom, that will go a long way when this little one comes. She’s had you to herself until now, Harper. When the novelty wears off and your time is split between them, she may feel pushed out, no matter how hard you try to reassure her.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too,” she admitted, “maybe we should make what we’ve got official, but I want a prenuptial agreement,” she added, firmly.
My body steeled, and my heart rate spiked in shock as I moved my head back enough to see her face in the darkness.
“What? Where the fuck has this come from?” I asked, suddenly hurt that she’d think I’d want that.
“I’d hate people to think I snared you for your money by having your kid.”
I remembered the newspaper articles and sat up quickly, putting the nightstand light on. “Who the fuck put this in your head?”
“Look, it doesn’t matter. If we’re getting married, I want one. If anything happens to you, I want any assets you have to go to the children.”
“Jesus, Harper, you really have thought about this,” I ground out; furious she’d even have to think of such a thing.
“It’s not fucking happening. No prenup, we both know this is the real deal; I won’t have it. Now I’m gonna ask you again, who put this notion in your head?”
Rolling over she sat up, got out of the bed, and sighed. For a few seconds I watched the internal struggle and knew she was breaking a confidence.
“Sarah-Jayne has one with Max. She told me Max’s management and law firm wrote one for Max and she was asked to sign it a few days before their wedding.”
“All right, first let me say, I’m not Max, and I’m surprised he put that on Sarah-Jayne, but that’s between them. We have no idea what goes on behind closed doors, so I can’t comment on his situation. But this right here,” I wagged my finger between us, “this is real love, and let me tell you, even with what I felt for Grace, it’s not the same… what we’ve got is far more.”
“Don’t get upset about it. I can understand your managers and lawyers wanting to protect what you have,” she pleaded.
“Baby, look at where I’ve come from… what I’ve been through… what I survived. If this is all that’s holding you back from being my wife, forget it. No fucking prenup. What’s mine is already yours. The moment you became pregnant my will was rewritten, ask Derek and Dorian, they were witnesses. You’ve never asked for anything, never wanted anything.”
Blood and heat rushed through my veins in frustration that thoughts like this had been put in Harper’s head. To think those thoughts were put there by someone who knew us, but had no idea how deep our feelings ran, pissed me off.
There wasn’t even a discussion about a prenuptial agreement when I married Grace, and I certainly would never have entertained such a suggestion from someone who put money and business before my wife.
“Why haven’t we had these discussions before?” Harper asked.
“I don’t know, but I want you to be my wife, and not for the kids, for all of us, you included.”
“Well, when you say it so romantically,” Harper replied, lightening my mood.
“Will you marry me?”
“What an amazing romantic proposal, you sitting half-naked in bed with a face like thunder, and me standing here in my huge maternity shorts and tank,” she chuckled.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I acted on impulse. I should have thought it through before I asked.”
I know I should never have compared them, but my proposal to Grace was also spontaneous and without thought. It was as sudden and passionate, yet I realized Harper saying yes meant more than when Grace had.
“Tell me what you want, Harper? I’m yours with or without the romantic gestures. It isn’t that you don’t deserve the hearts and flowers and the serenades, but I think I know you, and doing any of those things would be seen by you as empty gestures.”
A smile spread on her face and she knelt on the bed, leaning toward me. “Kind of having an issue with being called Harper Harkin right now,” she giggled. “It’s kind of freaking me out.”
I chuckled. “Well, as I’m the famous one, it’s going to have to be you that concedes on that one, but I think you can keep your name and use it as normal. How often would anyone refer to it anyway? You’d be Harper, Cole Harkin’s gorgeous wife,” I told her tongue in cheek.
“If we get married—”
“When,” I countered.
“I haven’t said yes yet,” she scolded.
“You will,” I teased, pulling back the covers to reveal my junk. “Where else would you find a package like this at your disposal with a kid in tow?”
Giggling, she shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.” Her smile told me I was winning her over.
“I know, right? That’s what men say when they check me out at the urinals in public restrooms. I give them inferiority complexes I’m told.” I winked and grinned wickedly at her gaping mouth when her jaw dropped.
“Wow, you made that up on the spot?”
“You’d be amazed at what I can do on the spot.” I winked again.
“You need to get that eyelid pinned back, it keeps falling over your eyeball. ”
“Now you’re ridiculous,” I countered.
She waved her hands over her huge bump. “Yeah, that’s what all the women say…” she chuckled, “at the birthing center prenatal classes.” She giggled and tried to continue, “they have inferiority…” giggle, “complexes as well when they check this lump out.”
Opening my arms, she climbed back into bed then quickly turned around and climbed back out. “Hold on, I need to pee,” she advised me as she waddled into the bathroom.
“I’ll hold yours, if you hold mine,” I called out after her.
“Pfft,” she replied, “You’re an opportunist, you know that?” My heart stopped for a second, and I felt as if I had been punched in my chest. Grace used to say this to me all the time. A lump formed in my throat and I felt weird for a moment, like it was a sign of some kind.
A minute later I heard the flush and the faucet being turned on and I pulled the comforter back to clear Harper’s space for her to get back into bed. She bumped around getting comfortable with the pillows and shit, then her breathing slowed as she settled.
“I’ll marry you, but here, at the house. No cameras, just the band guys, our families, and the household. If the press gets wind of it, I’m not doing it. I’ll take your surname and be the ridiculous Harper Harkin because I love you.”
An emotional swell rolled through me and my throat constricted. “Don’t you ever knock my unromantic proposal; that acceptance was ten times worse,” I choked out, then I pulled her as close as I could get her to me and kissed her softly on her neck.
“Can we go to sleep now? I’m almost due and this may be one of the last few good night’s sleep I’ll get for a while,” she drawled.
Kissing her neck again, I squeezed her hip gently and whispered, “Sure… love you, Baby.”
Not long after Harper’s breathing evened out and became deeper, I fell asleep listening to the breaths of the woman who breathed new life into me.