Thirteen
Willow Tate-Should-Be-Cassel
“Jameson!” I screeched from the living room, bent over at what used to be my waist. My knees buckled, and I could barely keep upright while I clenched the back of a club chair.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, this hurts like a mother…
Where the hell was that man? This was not happening. I still had two weeks. I still had to pack my hospital bag. I had a clownfish delivery coming today… And now, I had a puddle of water at my feet, and I was soaked. This was not how they wrote about it in books. Total bullshit.
“God damn it, Jameson,” I screamed. “Get in here, or I’m freaking leaving you!”
Not that I could leave if I wanted to, I couldn’t even walk, which was why I was bellowing for him. I didn’t think I could move from this spot without falling as pain clamped around my middle and radiated outward. I mean, I knew childbirth was painful but, sweet Mother of God… I needed the drugs. All the drugs. Stat!
“What?” Jameson panted, skidding into the room. He took one look, and his eyes went wide as if he’d encountered a scene from The Shining or something. Of course, my position, my white- knuckled grip on the chair, the amniotic fluid all over the marble floor, seeping toward the Oriental rug, gave him a clue.
“Oh my God,” he gasped, going white.
“I swear to God, Jameson, if you faint and leave me alone in this, you’re going to be living in the pool house.”
“It’s time?” he asked, clearly trying to gather himself. He looked faint.
“No, I just thought we should do a fucking dry run. What do you think?” I growled as the pain edged up again. Already.
“Doesn’t look very dry,” he commented, recovering enough to taunt me as he came toward me then swung me carefully into his strong arms.
“You’re going to get all wet,” I muttered, burying my face in his neck. Being cuddled close to him made me forget I was ready to plot his murder for the very wet comment. At the moment, he was the most comforting thing in my life. My hands clenched into his shirt as he walked, my mouth pressed to his shoulder.
“Doesn’t matter. You okay?” he asked. He grabbed a throw off the couch and wrapped it around me, moving the whole time.
“It hurts,” I whined.
“We’ll get you drugs as soon as we can,” he said gently.
“Okay,” I agreed as he placed me in the BMW crossover he’d gotten last month and fastened me in. He’d claimed it was the closest he was ever getting to a minivan, and we needed a bigger vehicle. “We need a bag or something,” I exclaimed when he slid behind the steering wheel.
“It’s already in the back.”
“You packed my bag?”
“Well, you weren’t doing it. You’re supposed to have it prepared by the eighth month.”
“Don’t judge me.”
“Of course, I’m not judging you. You’re my warrior woman.”
“Don’t feel like it right now. You’re handling this really well,” I observed. Aside from the near panic when he first answered my screams. His calm was almost…annoying. Still, I homed in on it, my touchpoint outside my body. “I thought you were going to pass out back there.”
“I don’t want to live in the pool house. I’d miss my game room.”
“Jerk,” I laughed. Weakly, but it was a laugh. I winced at the movement of it in my torso.
“There’s my girl. I’ve got your phone list, favorite nightgown, some leggings and tops in your bag. I packed the outfit you wanted and baby essentials in the diaper bag for Jamie Junior.”
I rolled my eyes. “We did not agree on that name.”
“You know you want it.” Probably…but I wasn’t ready to say yes or no. I wanted to see our baby before we decided. Maybe, he wouldn’t look like a Jameson. Maybe, he’d look like a Frank. Nah…I doubted any kid of mine would look like a Frank.
“Why did I agree to let you be the father?” I asked, watching the landscape speed past. Jameson was driving way over the speed limit. We were heading to the local one, in Sleepy Hollow, and not the one in NYC since we no longer lived in the city.
He laughed, and I wanted to smack him. “Sorry, princess. It was my Olympian sperm that made that decision. We picked you.”
“Hmm.” I rolled my head toward him. “And why have you never proposed to me? Your sperm didn’t make that decision.”
I yelped as the vehicle suddenly swerved.
“Fuck, Wills!” he swore, righting the crossover.
Right. I was good for fucking, good for having his baby… I sniffled as tears filled my eyes. “Because you don’t want to marry me. That’s what I’m guessing. I get it.”
“Now?” he growled. “Now, when we’re on the way to the hospital and I can’t stop and kiss some sense into you? Are you kidding me? You don’t get anything!”
“I know you don’t want me!” I yelled back then groaned.
“I swear to God, Willow! As soon as you’re cleared for… whatever …I’m spanking you. I cannot believe you! Of course, I want to fucking marry you. I figured you’d kick me in the balls again if I tried to propose.”
“I didn’t kick you,” I mumbled.
“I’m not going to ask you anyway,” he announced. I closed my eyes and turned my face toward the window. Between my emotions and the pain in my middle, I was about to turn into a blubbering mess. Jameson reached for my fingers. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me. His grip was like iron as he tugged my hand toward him and pressed it to his lips. “You are marrying me. Do you think I’d take the chance of asking your obstinate ass? You’d say no just to be a little brat.”
“Jameson—” My words were lost on a loud cry as pain ripped through me. “Jameson,” I breathed, my blurry gaze rolling toward him, my words thready. “Hurry. I don’t…I don’t think…I don’t think…it’s supposed…to be this bad, this fast.”
Both his jaw and the fingers on the wheel were clenched, his blanched features even whiter at the edges. He swallowed hard. “We’ll get there. We’re almost there. You’ll be okay. I promise you’ll be okay.”
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Where the hell was my picture-perfect, earth mother birth moment? I’d done all the stupid classes, damn it.
“Jameson, I love you,” I whispered. My vision grayed, and I moaned. My arm curled around my belly. I just wanted my baby here and for both of us to be in Jameson’s arms.
“I love you, too. Hang on, baby. Please.”
* * * *
I smiled into the pillow as I heard the little cry of my angry baby. He was hungry. I guessed so, anyway. What did I know? I hadn’t had much cognizance the past few hours. I’d been swept away from Jameson almost as soon as we’d gotten to the ER. They’d let him come into the OR for the emergency C-section. Then our son was here, healthy, squalling, perfect. I’d cried. Jameson had sobbed, big baby. It was absolutely beautiful.
“Jameson,” I murmured.
“We’re both right here, me and Jamie junior, princess.”
“I didn’t agree to name him that.”
“Are you sure about that? You said a lot of things while you were under those powerful drugs.”
“Anything I said while impaired doesn’t count.” I held out my hands for the swaddled bundle he held. “Gimme the baby.”
“Nothing counts?” he asked as he settled the weight in my arms.
“Depends.” I stared into my son’s baby-blue eyes. I drew my finger along his soft cheek. We’d made this perfect little human.
“You said you love me.”
“You already knew that.”
“I love you, too.” He kissed the top of my head and settled onto the bed beside me. One arm went around my shoulders while the other fiddled with my hand. “And you said you thought we should get married right away.”
“In the car—”
“In the ER.”
I maybe vaguely remembered that.
“The family’s on the way here.”
“Good, they’ll want to see little Frank.”
“Frank?”
“I can’t call you both Jameson.”
His hand cupped the back of my head, and he brushed his lips over mine. “I love you, devil woman.”
“I love you, too.” I sighed. “I guess…for forever.”
“Oh, well, that’s lucky for me, since I suppose it’ll be that long for me, too. So about getting married…”
“Okay.”
“Yes?”
“I thought you weren’t going to ask me,” I teased, my heart so full right now. This man, our baby. The world couldn’t be much better.
“I’m not. I’m just checking in with you.”
“Oh, I see,” I laughed. “Well, so you know, I am going to marry you. Someone has to take you on.”
“Back atcha, babe. I mean who else would take you?”
“I’m sure I could find another frenemy.”
“Impossible. You only have one best frenemy, and I’d bury anyone who tried to take you from me.”
I covered the baby’s ear that wasn’t pressed to my chest. “You’re turning me on a little, Jamie. I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed in the maternity ward.”
He groaned. “Pretty sure the next six weeks will kill me. I guess we’ll have to fill the time with wedding planning.”
“You? Me? Meet at the altar in six weeks?” I asked.
“Deal.” His lips covered mine, and I knew it would be a long, long, frustrating six weeks indeed.