Chapter Twenty-Nine Laney
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LANEY
One year later…
Christmas music echoed off the walls of our home. The speakers my dad installed were just a hair too loud this early on Christmas morning. Not that I was complaining. Everyone we loved was here, at our new home in Cherrywood, celebrating our son’s first Christmas.
“Is he done eating yet?” My mom poked her head into the nursery, her smile hopeful. “I’m having Sam withdrawals.”
“Five more minutes, Mom.”
“Do you need anything? Coffee? Food?”
I shook my head as gratitude washed over me.
Connor was there every step, but a newborn was exhausting in a way I wasn’t mentally prepared for.
That’s where my parents were incredible.
It was strange that I loved Sam so much I couldn’t breathe sometimes, but there were moments when I was so tired, so out of it, that the thought of trying to cook or make food was too much.
Connor spent every minute making sure I was healing and okay. And on the days or hours he had to work, my parents stepped right in. I was never alone, and I had never felt so loved.
I kissed my son’s head, inhaling the sweet baby scent.
He was four months now, and I couldn’t believe how fast, and slow, it went.
I loved this kid so damn much that it overwhelmed me.
My eyes prickled, and I admired him as I nursed him.
It was wild to think that this time last year, I had tried to leave Connor.
The nursery door opened again, and my husband walked in with a mug of coffee.
“Hi, is he eating? Are you hurting at all?”
He set the mug on the side table next to the rocker and leaned down to kiss me.
“Christmas cookies for breakfast?” I teased, tasting the sweetness from the frosting on his lips.
He laughed.
“Your dad. He instills terrible habits. I tried to eat a banana, but no, he insisted on the cookies.”
“Eh, it’s Christmas.” I shrugged right as Sam passed out. “Oh, our boy is milk drunk.”
Connor’s face lit up as he stared at our son. “I’d be milk drunk too if I fed from your boobs.”
“They’re going to go back to normal at some point, you know.” My face heated as I clipped my bra back together and burped Sam on my shoulder. Connor’s latest obsession was my breasts. They’d grown in size—almost doubled from the pregnancy and nursing—and he legit couldn’t get enough.
When they weren’t too sore from nursing, we had fun, but it was still weird adjusting to a post-birth body.
“That’s fine, hon, but I love your body. I love how you carried our perfect fucking son.” He reached over and squeezed my wrist six times. His eyes warmed as he knelt down next to me, one hand landing on my knee, the other on Sam’s back.
“Baby.” He chuckled softly. “Here. Give him to me.”
“My mom wants a turn.”
“She can wait.” He carefully lifted Sam from my chest and cradled him against his. “Hi, big guy. You eat enough from your momma? You’re absolutely perfect.” He patted Sam’s butt, and within seconds, Sam was asleep again.
My eyes watered, staring at Connor and Sam. I was so happy.
“Are you crying?” he asked, his eyes widening. “What do you need?”
The entire postpartum experience was wild with emotions, but Connor was incredible. There was no other word for it. He held me when I cried for no reason, ensured I ate, scheduled visitors when he had to leave, and wouldn’t let me clean the house or do anything but heal and love on Sam.
He encouraged us to go for walks in the crisp air and refused to let me clean a single piece of the pumping equipment. When I think about how dedicated and loving he is, my heart skips a beat.
“I’m fine. Just, so, so happy.” I swiped my fingers under my eyes, hoping I wouldn’t smear my mascara. I had put some on today with everyone coming over. And when I said everyone, I meant everyone.
My parents. Our neighbors who also had a young child. Petra. Matt. Some high school friends. Sophia and her situationship. The family across the street whose family lived in another country. We couldn’t have them celebrate alone. Everyone came here, to our house, to celebrate.
“You deserve it, Laney.” My husband’s voice was deep and serious. “You deserve all the happiness, so don’t question it.”
“I like your bossy tone. Haven’t heard it in a while. Missed that in the bedroom.”
“Because you’re healing,” he replied with a tone of no shit. “Trust me. Part of me wishes everyone left so I could take my time with you today, unwrapping your clothes.”
My skin heated. “Yes. Let’s do that. Kick everyone out.”
He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re cute. As much as I want to, we have Christmas to celebrate, and the man of the hour is hiding in here.”
“It’s my turn. No, you wait.” My mom’s voice carried through the hallway, and soon enough, she was there. “Hi, oh, Connor, give him to me. Don’t let Suzie hold him.”
Suzie was my mom’s neighbor. She had made us about ten casseroles after I gave birth and declared herself a mix of grandmother and godmother.
“Here he is.” Connor passed him off to my mom, who immediately kissed him a thousand times.
“I’m going to sit in the recliner, but you two take a minute alone. I’ll hold the boy.”
I frowned, her comment a little weird, but then Connor wiped his hands on his jeans—a clear sign of nerves.
“Is there a reason we need a moment alone?” I asked.
“I mean, I could do wicked things within five minutes if you dared me.” He flashed a smile before his face returned to normal. “But no, I asked your mom for a few minutes with you.”
He pulled me out of the rocker and ran his hands over my shoulders and arms, squeezing my hands at the end.
“God, you’re beautiful. And strong. And incredible. Seeing you become a mom has been one of my favorite things ever, Laney. I’m in awe of you.”
“Are you trying to make me cry?” Tears definitely fell now. “I’m an emotional mess today.”
“That’s okay.” He cupped my face, wiping my tears before he kissed me. “I love you, our life, our boy, all of it.”
“I do too.” I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug, the ache in my chest lessening. It was weird how I loved him even more than I had last year.
People told me that our marriage would change after having a child, but we went through the hard part before learning we were even pregnant.
Connor recently wrapped up his time in the city.
He remained on as a consultant for an entire year, helping them transition to a new CEO.
They paid him well and kept the option open for more work in the future if needed.
That spun an idea for Connor to start a consulting business—entirely remote.
When he wasn’t doing that, he helped our town.
While the salary wasn’t what we were used to, he was adjusting to his new role as director of economic growth.
The chamber created the role and the alliance, and appointed him after he convinced them of the growth plan.
He was home by five every night. He never missed a meal. We had laughed, and cried, and celebrated more in the last year than we had in our entire relationship.
Petra left the company despite her promotion and split her time between Connor’s office and the high school. And yes, she and Matt were officially together now. So much had changed in twelve months.
I didn’t feel like I was in second place anymore. Slowly, and very intentionally, I trusted him that things would be different. Connor had come to every doctor’s appointment and stayed home if I had a rough day—and there were a few. Pregnancy was not easy for me.
Our condo in the city still held so many good memories, and we’d spent a few nights with Sam there already, but Cherrywood was home for us. We just put it on the market and were going to use some of those funds to invest in Cherrywood.
This house, this town, this village of people loving us. It was more than I had ever hoped for.
“I want to tell you about your gift.” He kissed my forehead before smiling again. Sometimes Connor just stared at me and smiled a soft, gentle smile, and it made my insides turn to squish. I hoped he never stopped that.
“My gift? I thought we agreed no gifts, Connor.” I hadn’t gotten him anything. “We talked about this!”
“Yeah, that’s on me.”
“You don’t look that apologetic.”
“’Cause I’m not.” He winked and took a breath. “I hired a photographer for the whole day. You might know him.”
“Is it Newt?” I asked, breathless. I still owned my own photography business, but I had taken half a year off for maternity leave. I’d go back on my own terms.
He nodded. “I want a new tradition to document our holidays with our family. We spent too many holidays alone, without the smells of food and noise of laughter. While I know you take great photos, today isn’t about you working.
I want to capture the moments when you smile at Sam, or your mom hogging him, or your dad singing at the top of his lungs as he cooks.
I want all of it. I want to show Sam these photos and remind him of the people who love him. ”
Damn. I cried again.
“Happy tears, right?” he asked.
I nodded before a sob burst out.
“I love it. I love it so much I’m crying!”
“Oh, baby.” He pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back. “You’re pretty even when you’re snotting all over me.”
“Not helping!”
His deep rumble of a laugh vibrated against my face. I snuggled in closer, breathing in his cologne and having a sense of calm wash over me. He waited me out, patient as ever. He never rushed me.
“Okay,” I said, sniffing and glancing up at him. “That is the best idea I’ve ever heard, but now I need to redo this eye makeup situation because I’m a raccoon.”
“But a gorgeous, big-boobed raccoon.”
“Connor.” I pinched his side, making him laugh even more. He countered the attack, and then we ended up laughing and tickling and falling to the ground with me on top of him. He stared at me with those gorgeous, deep gray eyes, and I swooned. I was so lucky.
“I can’t believe you’re mine, you know?”
He scoffed.
“That’s my line, Laney.”