Chapter 27
Layla
Russell holds me close, rubbing my back and humming as we stand in our private hallway. I’m fairly certain I bombed my Digital Marketing Strategy test yesterday since I could hardly keep focus. Being that I’m in an accelerated program to finish my bachelor’s degree before I begin working full-time for Violet, whose business Russell invested in so she could expand operations and hire more help, every grade is major.
But it’s not as major as this moment right now while we wait for the pregnancy test results fifteen weeks after the surprise appointment Russell made with the fertility specialist following our wedding. We could have waited. Tried for at least six months to conceive naturally now that I’ve had my surgery, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of potentially more negative tests before opting for IVF. Russell’s advanced age , as the doctor put it bluntly, was a determining factor as well.
The timer on my phone chimes from inside the bathroom, and Russell tips my chin up with two fingers. “Ready?”
“No,” I answer truthfully, my head spinning with anxiety. If the test is negative, I don’t know how I’ll cope after all of the money we’ve spent, the numerous doctor’s appointments, and the twice-daily hormone shots that have left tender bruises on my thigh.
“Do you want to wait a little longer? Try again tomorrow or next week?”
“No,” I repeat, knowing that if I indeed can’t cope on my own, Russell will be here to help me, lending me his strength. Plus, he’s as excited and nervous about the results himself, and I don’t want to make him wait any longer.
Russell isn’t impatient with me as I take a few deep breaths to steady myself before he leads me into the bathroom, standing with his arms wrapped around me from behind as I stare at the test lying face down on the stone vanity. I shakily press the red button on my phone and prop it up, wanting a video of our reactions that I can replay over and over if the test comes back positive. I trust Russell will discreetly erase it if not.
My husband holds my gaze in the mirror while I lift the test, his chest puffing out against my back with a ragged inhale. In slow motion, I flip the test over, and we both look down. I’d drop to my knees if it weren’t for Russell holding me upright while I cry harder than I ever have in my life with my hand clapped over my mouth, trying to contain my sobs.
“I’m going to be a mom,” I say, choking on my emotions when Russell spins me around, crushing me as tight to his chest as I do the test to mine. “We’re having a baby. I’m going to be a mom. I’m going to be a mom.” I can’t stop saying it, even as I show him the test with its digital PREGNANT readout since I’m not sure he can see it clearly with tears streaming down his face.
“We’re having a baby,” he says, lifting me so we’re eye level with each other.
I hike my knees up to wrap my legs around him, cupping his face and pressing my lips to his. “A baby, Russell. We’re really having a baby.”
He nods, carrying me into our bedroom and laying me down beneath him in the middle of our bed. He pushes my nightgown up, gently dropping his forehead just above my belly button to kiss my lower abdomen with his hands splayed wide over me. “I love you,” he whispers. “I already love you as much as I do your sweet mama.”
I pull him up for a kiss. “You’re going to be a daddy again,” I say, looking up at truly the kindest, gentlest, most patient and wonderful man I’ve ever known. “The best daddy there is. Thank you for making my dreams come true.”
“You’re my dream, darlin’,” he whispers hoarsely, bracing one elbow beside me so he can slip a hand between us to span my belly that’s soft yet flat but will soon fill out. “You and our family. You’re my everything. My dream come true.”
I kiss him, widening my legs and encouraging him to lift his hips so I can push his sweatpants down, and his already half-hard cock lengthens in my hand.
“Now?”
“I just want to feel you.”
Russell nods, slipping his hand lower to massage my clit with the pad of his thumb until I’m wet enough for him to push inside me. He rolls us over onto our sides, pulling me closer as I hike my top knee higher over his hip.
Within the cradle of his arms, his lips pressed to my forehead, we rest, dreaming of the day we get to meet our baby and what their name will be—something short and easy for them to write. We’ll raise them better than I was raised, with a father who won’t browbeat them into submission and a mother who will always protect them above all others. They’ll learn they can speak up for themselves and won’t be scared of their parents or of what’s expected of them.
This baby will be one lucky kid, and we’ll be the lucky ones who get to love them.
* * *
Jared’s arm drops from around Violet’s shoulders when she rises from the couch. She passes little Jeremy to her husband, her eyes swollen and red around the rims, as I’m sure mine are.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, crossing an arm over my stomach, waiting for the day my unborn child kicks my hand.
Taking my hands in hers, Violet swallows hard, her chin quivering. “Russell called Jared earlier this morning to let us know you were going to take a test. He thought you might want me here for support in case…” Her shoulders shake as she tries not to cry. “And since you didn’t call me afterward, I figured…I’m so sorry.”
I give Russell the signal over my shoulder, and he unlocks his phone. Violet and Jared’s phones both chime seconds later. “Check your messages,” I tell her.
She pulls her phone from the pocket of her jean shorts, and I listen as she plays the video, hearing myself and Russell sob with joy.
Violet’s phone clatters to the floor, and she tugs me into her hold, laughing through her tears, yelling in my ear, “You’re going to be a mom!” We almost fall when she starts jumping excitedly. “You’re going to be the best mom, and our kids are going to be best friends, too. I know it.”
“Congratulations, brother,” Jared says with a wide grin, giving him a one-armed hug, both of them beating each other’s backs.
“Oh my god!” Footsteps pound across the upper floor, and Cora leans over the balcony with her face lit up, holding her phone and playing the video Russell sent to all our friends and family. “You’re pregnant!”
I laugh when Cora flies down the stairs, throwing her arms around Violet and me in a group hug. “I’m going to be an auntie!”
Trace is much more careful coming down the stairs with Gauge. He asks Russell, “So is the kid going to call you ‘Dad’ or ‘Granddad’?”
Russell tickles Gauge’s cheek while eyeballing Trace with concern. “You know I’m not actually Layla’s father, right?”
Trace snorts. “Duh. I’m just playing with you.” He chucks Russell on the arm, then scratches his temple beneath his hat. “Though it does get confusing.” He shrugs. “Anyway, congrats. That kid won the lottery having you as a dad. I would know.”
“Dagnabbit.” Russell curls Trace under his arm. “You’re gonna make me cry all over again.”
Russell, Trace, and Jared nearly jump out of their skins when Violet, Cora, and I all scream after Elliott appears out of the blue over Russell’s shoulder.
With his hands in his pockets, Elliott clears his throat. “Saw the video,” he says in an uncharacteristically soft voice, staring at his boots. “Came by to offer my congratulations.” He’s already out the back door, crossing the lawn toward the woods before my heartbeat has returned to its normal rhythm .
“Is he ok?” I ask Russell, watching Elliott’s form slip into the trees.
“I don’t think so,” Russell says, staring off into the distance.
“Go get dressed,” I say, pushing him away. “I’m sure the girls will be here soon, and you boys might want to clear out so they don’t blow out your eardrums.”
“Copy that,” Trace says, bounding up the stairs.
We’ve been more than happy to let him and Cora continue living with us so they can save up for the house they want to build on the parcel of land Russell gifted them at the edge of our property. It’s not only because I love getting to see Gauge every day but also…we simply love having Cora and Trace around, even if they sure do make a lot of noise at night. It takes some serious effort, even with the nearly soundproof doors, to block them out when Trace moans for Little Mama while they’re having sex.
Violet bends to kiss Jeremy’s cheek before Jared waves goodbye, taking him home. She pulls me down onto the couch, settling back with her laptop taken from her bag. Cora drops onto the couch on my other side and scoots in close.
“First things first,” Violet says, already tapping away on her keyboard while Russell heads out the back. “Hospital, birth center, or home birth?”
I shake out one of the fuzzy blankets we keep folded on the couch and drape it over our laps, laying my head on Violet’s shoulder. “Are you planning my birth?”
“Of course. I already have Dr. Patel’s information on hand if you choose to have a hospital birth. She’s fantastic, and I’ve already checked that she takes your insurance.” When I nod, she checks off a box and moves on to the next line. “After this, we’ll start designing the nursery and planning the baby shower, though Russell and I got started on that weeks ago, so you’re playing catch-up.”
I laugh. “Like so many other things.”
“That’s the whirlwind for you,” Cora says, twisting her left hand side to side so that the diamonds on her wedding band, which is as flashy as her engagement ring, will catch the light.
* * *
I shuck my sweater off, fanning my face while Davis turns the heat up at his house since the rest of the baby shower guests are freezing with the freak cold front that just blew in two weeks into February, worried we may have a repeat of the freeze that left the State without power a few years back. I had read that pregnancy might make me run hot with the weight gain and fluctuating hormones, but halfway through my second trimester, it’s as if I’ve strapped a furnace to my already aching back.
And every bit of it is worth it , I silently whisper to the baby as I rub my hands over my belly that I rarely stop touching, as if making sure this—my life, my husband, my child—is still real and not a dream I’m going to wake from at any moment.
Russell grips his head with both hands from beside me on the couch, staring at our piles of presents that we just finished opening, missing quite a few items that apparently used to be staples when he was a first-time dad. “I swear to god, I don’t know how Paul survived,” he mutters for perhaps the fifteenth time in as many minutes. “Crib bumpers, bouncers, cereal in bottles, sleeping on his stomach…Can’t do any of that anymore. Everything’s changed.” He pulls at his hair. “Everything. ”
Wyatt chuckles with amusement when Russell clutches his heart dramatically with horror in his eyes. “I have to call him and apologize for trying to kill him.” He jumps up and pulls his phone from his pocket, carefully picking his way around the gifts and kids playing on the carpet on his way down the hallway covered in massive framed photographs of Davis and Goldie’s family.
With her phone held to her ear, Goldie snaps her fingers several times at Russell from the kitchen before he gets too far away, and he veers toward her. I sit up straight at the concern etched in her drawn features when she tells Russell, “It’s Teagan. She’s ready.”
Teagan . Her friend from Las Vegas, where Goldie lived before hitchhiking to Texas. Though the rest of us haven’t met her, we’ve been waiting alongside Goldie for this day to come.
Russell’s earlier horrified expression is replaced with one of deadly serious determination when he takes Goldie’s phone after a rushed, whispered exchange. “You have a safe place to stay until we can get someone to you?” he asks Teagan.
I push up from the couch and set my half-eaten cake on the kitchen table.
“F—” he cuts off his curse word when I saddle up beside him, leaning in to hear the rest of their conversation. “Kids and ages?”
“I have three,” Teagan whispers low on the other end of the line. “They’re six, five, and two.”
“Let me check the schedule,” he says after she relays her address. He nods to Davis, who sets up his work laptop on the kitchen counter after typing in his passcode. A few clicks later to check where his long-haulers are currently located in proximity to Nevada, Russell’s shoulders relax marginally with relief. “My brother is the closest and can be there in twelve hours, give or take. Can you hang on that long?”
“I’ll try,” she answers with a knife’s edge of hope in her voice.
As soon as the call ends, Russell taps Elliott’s contact on his phone while Goldie and Davis exchange a look, then hurry down the hallway to start clearing out their spare bedroom as planned should this day come.
When Elliott finally answers with a grunt, his diesel engine rumbling in the background, Russell says, “Change of plans, brother. I need a favor.”