Chapter 22
AXEL
I’m not saying I suddenly love Christmas.
Not by a long shot.
But this year, as we gather in Theo and Sadie’s living room, I’m not fighting the urge to escape either.
The tree’s twinkling away in front of the window.
Christmas tunes hum through the speakers.
The fire’s crackling in the grate. And the place smells like pine, gingerbread, and whatever candle Sadie swears ‘brings joy.’
Shockingly, I ain’t suffocating.
Sadie’s half-inside the tree (again) digging around like it’s a jungle she’s determined to conquer. Theo’s two steps behind, wearing that familiar mix of adoration and absolute terror she’s about to take a branch to the eye.
Granny Anna’s got Lottie pinned to her lap, trying to stop the kid from opening every present in sight – or setting something on fire. Honestly, it’s a close call.
And Taylor?
Taylor’s in my lap this year.
Yeah. That probably has something to do with the fact I ain’t acting like a feral cat forced into a festive sweater.
Hell, who am I kidding?
It has everything to do with it.
She’s glowing – brighter than the damn tree – and happier than I’ve ever seen her. When I asked what she wanted for Christmas, she didn’t even blink.
‘You,’ she said.
And, yeah.
That’s mutual.
She turns her head now, eyes dancing when she catches my shit-eating grin.
‘Careful,’ she murmurs, trailing her finger through my beard. ‘People might start thinking you’ve fallen in love with Christmas…’
It’s like she read my damn mind.
‘You know what I love…’ I say, hauling her closer and kissing her properly. She tastes like cinnamon and that thing I’m getting way too familiar with lately: hope. And I plan to keep sampling her every chance I get.
‘Here it is!’ Sadie crows triumphantly, backing out of the tree on her hands and knees and snagging everyone’s attention. She holds up a flat wrapped box and launches it at Theo. ‘Happy Christmas, darling!’
They settle on the sofa together, him in the seat, Sadie on the arm. He tugs the bow loose and flips open the lid, his grin splitting his face in two.
‘I love it!’
‘What is it, Daddy?’ Lottie says, craning her neck. ‘Letmeseee!’
He holds up a navy T-shirt with I’m the Daddy Dino circling a cartoon diplodocus.
‘Cool!’ Lottie squeals. ‘I wan’ one!’
‘Look, Mummy’s got one too,’ Theo says, pulling out a matching I’m the Mummy Dino tee. ‘Oh wait, there’s one for you—’
He stops. Completely.
His fingers go slack.
There’s something else in the box that we can’t make out.
He glances up at Sadie and she gives him the smallest nod, her eyes shining in the fairy lights, and Theo’s throat bobs. He sets the Mummy T-shirt aside and picks it up – no, picks them up. One small tee and one tiny vest…
I’m the Sister Dino.
I’m the Baby Dino.
Granny Anna gasps. Lottie beams, clueless about the life-changing part because she’s all about her dinosaur. And Taylor… her breath catches, fingers trembling over her own stomach.
‘I figured it was your turn for the big surprise this year,’ Sadie whispers as an overwhelmed Theo swaps the gift box for his wife, tugging her straight into his lap. ‘Though I’ll be honest, I was a bit stunned too.’
He kisses her like we’re not here.
Taylor turns to me, eyes swimming, smile quivering. ‘How amazing is that?’
‘Amazing,’ I manage to echo. Because yeah, I know exactly what she’s thinking, because I’m thinking it too. That we could be in the same boat. And nine months from now, it could be double the trouble. Triple, if you count Lottie too. Which I do. Always.
I picture it: me and Theo, two sleep-deprived idiots pushing buggies around the park, Lottie on her scooter, all of us happy. So fucking happy, the image hurts.
What the hell happened to me?
But then, it ain’t the ‘what’; it’s the ‘who’…
The room erupts: hugs, cheers, congratulations. Even I get dragged in. Turns out hugging doesn’t kill you the more you do it. Who knew?
‘Happy for you, Tanner,’ I say, thumping his back. ‘You’re one lucky son of a bitch.’
And I mean it.
I just hope – for Tay’s sake – there’s enough of that luck to go around.
I find her across the room. She’s talking to her sister, all jolly and animated. But one of her hands… it doesn’t move. It stays exactly where it’s been most of the morning.
Curved protectively over her stomach in that red jumper dress…
I don’t even know if she realises she’s doing it, but does it mean something more? Does she know something more?
‘I’m not the only one,’ Theo murmurs near my ear, tracking my line of sight.
He means me and Taylor. Having each other. The baby plan is still our secret.
But damn…
I hope he’s right, in every way.
It may have been Taylor’s dream from the start, but somewhere along the way, it became mine too.
Taylor
It’s almost midnight when we finally head up to bed.
Even Lottie got to stay up late, thanks to a sudden flurry of snow that saw her dragging everyone outside.
Theo and Sadie are paying the price for it now, wrestling an overtired, sugar-buzzed Lottie into bed.
Her squeals and giggles drift up through the floorboards as I sit at the dresser, taking off my earrings.
‘How are you feeling?’ Ax asks, coming up behind me.
I find his reflection in the mirror and swallow.
Bare chest, jeans unbuttoned, the dark lines of his tattoos drawing my gaze like they always do.
As for his question…
He wraps his arms around me, his head lowering to mine, cheek brushing my temple.
‘Taking too long to answer, Baby Girl,’ he murmurs, his eyes locking onto mine through the mirror.
Pregnant.
That’s what I want to say.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
Not until I know for sure.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve read too much into a flutter, a twinge, a symptom. I’ve been here before – six times already – gripping sticks, praying for a line that never appears.
I’ve seen more ‘signs’ this month too: the strange twist low in my stomach, running to the loo, feeling tired, boobs so tender it’s laughable… except Ax loves them so much, it’s hardly a reliable indicator.
And I know most symptoms come much later down the road.
But…
I’m two days late.
And I haven’t tested.
Don’t ask me why, when every month before, I tore through packets of early tests hoping one might finally deliver.
Maybe I didn’t want to face the ‘Negative’.
Not this time of year, when it’s all about joy and hope and so much festive positivity, you either love it or loathe it. And I want to stay firmly in the loved-up camp.
But knowing Sadie’s pregnant, seeing how she glows, imagining us both this time next year…
It feels bigger than hormones.
It feels like… fate.
And I’ve never believed in fate.
But then, I never believed in the fairy-tale ending of happy ever after either.
Not for me.
So, ‘Happy,’ I say instead.
He gives me that grin he’s been wearing more and more, and the butterflies take off inside.
‘About Sadie?’
‘About everything,’ I say. ‘It feels like it’s all slipping into place…’
He smooths his hand down my front, igniting every nerve in his wake.
‘Just need the final piece, hey?’ he says against my ear, fingers splaying across my stomach.
‘Yeah,’ I breathe, treasuring his touch, treasuring the hope blooming inside.
‘Anything you want to tell me, Baby Girl?’
He’s circling my belly, his caress distracting enough that it takes a second longer to realise he’s caught up with my thoughts. I drop the earrings on the side and turn to meet his gaze, but the truth sits unspoken on my tongue. Still unwilling. Unready. Almost fearful.
‘You didn’t finish your champagne at breakfast,’ he says quietly. ‘Or the wine with dinner. And you refused the brandy after.’
I swallow. ‘Do you think everyone noticed?’
‘I think they were too swept up in Sadie’s news…’
Relief softens my shoulders. It feels silly to be so careful when I don’t even know yet… but even sillier to say it aloud.
And I don’t want to be wrong.
‘It’s just good to be careful,’ I hedge, interlinking my fingers with his.
‘I wondered if… I thought…’ His hesitancy tugs at my heart as he lowers his gaze to my stomach. ‘Maybe you knew.’
‘No.’ My voice breaks a little. ‘Not for sure.’
His eyes lift back to mine, and the flare of hope – pure, unguarded, fierce – knocks the breath from my lungs.
‘But you think it’s possible?’
‘You were there every time we didn’t use protection, right?’ I let a teasing smile soften the moment, before I give him my truth. ‘But yes. I’m late. Two days.’
‘Tay—’
‘But I’ve been late before, Ax. I’ve seen signs, suspected, and then…’ I swallow down the mixed tide of emotions and see him do the same, his throat working as he nods.
‘But I do feel different,’ I admit, looking down at our entwined fingers over my flat stomach and willing it true. ‘And hearing the news from Sadie…’
‘It feels like it’s meant to be,’ he finishes, voice barely above a breath.
‘Yes.’
His eyes burn darker than ever as they return to mine. ‘I didn’t think I could ever want you more… but the idea of my baby growing inside you right now…’
Heat surges through me and I lean in, brushing my lips against his… ‘Then take me to bed or lose me forever.’
He laughs, the sound low and warm and full of the history between us.
‘I’ll never forget the day you made me watch that with you.’ He sweeps me up into his arms. ‘I was eighteen and na?ve enough to think it was all about the Jets.’
‘I was sixteen,’ I say, looping my arms around his neck, ‘and na?ve enough to think tough boys never cried.’
‘He’d just lost his best mate.’
‘I’m not talking about Maverick.’
He stops, mid-stride. ‘I didn’t cry.’
‘You did,’ I say softly, threading my fingers through his hair until he meets my gaze.
‘It was the first time I saw a glimpse of the real you: the boy hiding behind all that bravado. And now…’ I stroke my thumb along his cheek.
‘Now I get the man who doesn’t need the mask any more. And I love you even more for it.’
Axel
I’m suspended in that strange space between waking and sleeping, Taylor’s naked body curled around mine, her soft little whimpers tugging at something deep and primal in me.
Will this ever ease?
This bone-deep need to hold her, to be inside her, to make her mine in every way that counts?
I doubt it.
And for the first time in my life, I ain’t afraid to admit it.
She’s right.
The mask is gone.
With her, there’s no bravado, no armour – just me.
Raw. Open. Hers.
The faint patter of rain pulls me towards consciousness; Lottie’ll be sad to see the snow gone. Her mum too. I stretch and reach out instinctively, searching for Tay. But my hand meets only the imprint of her head in the pillow, her warmth already fading from the sheets.
My eyes crack open against the light seeping through the curtains.
The sound ain’t rain.
It’s the ensuite shower.
I check my watch. It’s still early; it’s just the snow outside making the world brighter than the hour. What’s she doing up? And then I think about the night, and guilt nudges me fully awake.
We didn’t stop until the early hours, the thought of her carrying my child feeding a hunger like none other, and I don’t doubt she’s sore.
A sharp, protective ache grips my chest, and I throw the covers back – not to chase her, but to take care of her.
The bathroom is warm with steam when I slip inside, the mirror already fogged over. She’s facing the spray, shoulders relaxed, water coursing down the length of her. I move up behind her, hands sliding around her waist, mouth brushing the curve of her neck.
‘Baby…’ I murmur against her skin.
But she doesn’t melt into me the way she usually does.
And then I see it: the thin ribbon of red snaking towards the drain, vanishing into the polished stone shower tray like it was never there at all.
My hands tighten automatically, my heart falling through the floor. ‘Tay…’
She turns into me, eyes bright and devastated.
‘I’m not pregnant,’ she whispers, voice cracking.
I pull her into my chest, arms tight as her sobs break free. Every instinct screams to shield, to hold, to fix what I can’t. I press my chin to her hair and rock her as the water beats down on us both.
‘I’m being silly,’ she chokes out, ‘I know I am. It’s only been six months but… I just— I feel like something’s wrong. Like maybe… maybe I don’t get to be a mum. Maybe all those years thinking I didn’t want it… maybe my body believed me.’
‘Tay…’ I tilt her face to mine, wiping away the tears even though the water keeps replacing them. ‘You can’t talk your body out of making a baby. And nothing about this makes you silly. You hear me? Nothing.’
She nods, but I can see the doubt in her eyes, feel it in every sob that still wracks her body.
‘Come on, come back to bed,’ I say, gently. ‘Get some sleep. Everything feels heavier when you’re running on empty.’
She lets me turn off the water and wrap her in a towel.
Lets me carry her back to bed and hold her until sleep takes her.
I lie there awake, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding, stomach twisted.
And then I grab my phone.
Is it normal? Six months of trying? Age thirty-eight?
Every article says the same thing. For a woman her age, after six months of trying, you don’t wait around – you get tested. Not because something’s definitely wrong, but because if there is… you don’t waste what time you’ve got.
My decision’s made before I can talk myself out of it.
When she finally stirs awake, I brush her hair back and tell her quietly, ‘We’ll get tested.’
She looks at me, eyes blinking wide.
‘You’ll… you’ll get tested too?’
‘Of course I will,’ I say, throat tightening. ‘Whatever it takes, Tay.’
But the moment her eyes soften, the fear punches right through me:
What if it ain’t her?
What if it’s me?
Not her punishment… but mine.
She studies my face, and somehow, she sees it.
A small, sad smile tugs at her mouth.
‘And now,’ she murmurs, touching my cheek, ‘who’s being silly?’