Chapter 37
Ashia
One Week Later
‘Cover Me with Sunshine’ – Allison Pink, Jessie Willow Hart
This waddling shit is for the penguins.
Thank God I'm not working. I can only imagine how un-badass I would look trying to help stop a criminal, or if I was still cutting hair. With this big belly? I don’t think so. I applaud all the hair stylists that do, because holy hell, I can't even imagine standing all day anymore.
These Braxton Hicks contractions just keep getting worse, and now the nausea is back, causing even more issues.
My O.B. said I've gone up five more pounds since my last appointment, thankfully, but since I've only gained eleven in total, we can’t risk losing any weight.
I'm already a centimeter dilated, which I thought was exciting, until the doctor said I could sit like that for weeks.
Weeks!
A part of me wants to. I want our little girl to develop as long as she can, but God, I'm miserable.
We've got six more weeks to go, and I'm already dying to have her. My hips hurt, my boobs hurt, and she’s moving around so much that I'm almost positive my insides are literally knotted up. Even just the walk from the parking lot to the Attic’s front door has me almost out of breath, and we’re not even halfway there!
I gasp when a strong arm sweeps my legs and I fall back into another strong limb. Damien chuckles as he lifts me effortlessly, even going as far as spinning us around.
“What on earth are you doing?” I hold onto him as tightly as I can.
“What does it look like I'm doing? I'm carrying my very pregnant wife inside.” He smiles wide and rubs his nose against mine.
“I should be walking,” I whine, but it’s half-assed.
I'm trying to stay strong like I have been.
All my life, I was never really allowed to be sick or hurt.
I've pushed through everything that's been thrown at me.
So why is it that whenever Damien touches me, I just want to rest against him and melt into how shitty I feel?
I'm not weak, and I want to prove that I'm strong enough to handle this—that I'm strong enough to be a mom…
But he just makes it so easy to be vulnerable.
“Maybe, and while your waddle is fucking adorable, I can tell you're uncomfortable.”
I pout, hating how tears sting my eyes.
“I do waddle…” I whine again, my voice cracking. “And it's not even just a little like it was before. I swear she's just so far down that it feels like she's going to fall out.” He laughs again, which only aggravates me even more. So, I slap his shoulder. “It’s not funny…”
“Oh,” he coos. “I know, baby. I'm sorry.” He kisses my cheek and gently sets me on the ground the moment we get to the door. “We won’t be long, I promise. Then I'll take you home and run you a bath.” His fingers brush my jaw, and my agitation instantly fades. He's looking at me so endearingly, like I could whine forever and he’d just be happy to hear my voice. We're working so hard to move on from all of the anger and sadness we’ve held on to. I don’t want to bring that back.
“I don't mean to complain… I really should just suck it up. I've been tortured, for fuck’s sake, you'd think I can handle this.” My shoulders sag in defeat.
“Hey, hey.” He cups my face in his hands.
“Don't do that. You do not need to just suck it up. You're sharing your body with a tiny human, one that’s taking all of your energy, nutrients, personal space, and sanity, at this point. It’s hard to move, you're not sleeping well, and you constantly have this little girl kicking every organ she can reach. It is okay to feel bad, and it’s more than okay to talk about it.
I always want to know how you're feeling. Okay?”
Damn him and those eyes—those sweet, loving, obsessed eyes.
I've stared into them thousands of times, yet they still affect me, reminding me of what we’ve found in each other.
It’s hard to believe that I ever fought it.
My life was so empty before, and now it’s constantly filled with him—the man that holds my heart in his chest and guards it with his life.
His soul chose mine long before either of us fell to earth, and now I'm lucky enough to create another life with my soulmate.
A perfect little life that I've only ever dreamed of.
My chest heats and inflates just at the thought of our daughter.
Even as she jabs my ribs with either a hand or foot, I almost burst with love.
“Being pregnant isn’t like torture, I shouldn’t have said that.” I shake my head, hating how my face heats up. “I really do love her.”
“Oh, baby,” he whispers, trying to soothe me as he pulls me closer.
Then, the sweet asshole chuckles. “I know that. Hell, she already knows that. You are such a good mom, Ashia.” He runs his fingers through my hair, tilting my head back so I can look up at him.
“You’re the best mom our little girl could have, and I know when we meet her in a few weeks, all of the bad feelings will be worth it.
” He peppers my face with kisses, wiping tears away that I didn’t even know fell, before pressing against my lips softly.
“Come on. Let’s grab this and go home, okay? ”
I nod gently and let him lead me inside.
As we walk through the security entrance, Chris waves at me from the window and grins excitedly.
We wave back, but I can't help but imagine Ezra there instead. That’s where he sat on my first day here, and it hurts to remember that he'll never sit there again.
So much has changed in the past few months, but that's a pain that’ll last a long time.
As if Damien can read my mind, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close for comfort as we walk through.
The halls seem relatively quiet today, and barely anyone is walking around.
Any other time, this would’ve been concerning.
I would’ve thought the guys were gearing up for some huge battle, but now, it’s comforting knowing that there are no more surprises.
It's crazy to believe this is the new normal. No alarms, nerves, or murderous rage. The air is light in here, probably for the first time ever. It’s weird how much I like it.
I walk past the rec-room when Damien grabs my hand, bringing me to a halt.
As I turn to face him, a shit-eating grin forms on his lips that makes me instantly suspicious.
I have a feeling that my thoughts on ‘no more surprises’ are wrong the moment he opens the door instead of leading me forward.
A part of me should’ve known better, really.
The blinds in the windows are lowered, and the lack of people in the halls should’ve been my first clue.
“Surprise!” Voices shout from all around us when the lights flip on.
My eyes adjust slowly, but I quickly recognize mostly everyone in all of their loud, Hartley glory.
As I scan the room, I think every woman I’ve ever met is here.
That’s an exaggeration, obviously, but it doesn’t seem that far-fetched.
Marla, Ser, Jamie, Linette, and every member of the Hartley family are here.
Victoria and Elizabeth stand close to Danielle, but Elizabeth is trying her hardest to scurry away and play with the other kids here.
Black, silver, purple, and pink fill the room in a mixture of balloons, banners, drop-down decorations, and table toppers—and almost all of them have bats on them.
The large banner in the middle of the room reads ‘we’re going batty for baby Hartley’ in huge, black, gothic lettering, making the dark-yet-cutesy aesthetic clear.
There are other tables and signs for food and games, and even the pieces of fruit are cut into spooky shapes like bats and coffins.
“I forced Serena to throw some pink in here,” Damien chuckles and wraps his arms around me from behind, immediately cradling my stomach like he loves to do.
How is it I still don’t know how to accept the things he does for me?
I’m overcome by an intense mix of emotions every time he surprises me.
I wish I was better at it. The happiness and adoration is there, completely overwhelming, yet that awkwardness of having everyone’s attention still lingers.
I grew up thinking that when someone did nice things for me, I had to repay them somehow.
With Damien, that’s never been the case.
He does these things for me because he wants to—because it makes him happy.
His only real mission in life is to make me feel every ounce of love he can give, and he doesn’t expect anything in return.
I know that, but I suppose my brain still has some catching up to do.
“You need to stop with the surprise parties,” I whisper to him, unable to fight the teary smile creasing my eyes.
“One of these days, little wolf, you’re just going to have to accept my dramatic shows of affection.”
I laugh as he leads me further into the room, once again getting swarmed by our incredible life.
Everyone who means something to us is here, and if they’re not, I can feel them in spirit.
Even as Alex, Carter, Zeke, and a few of the other guys huddle into the back corner, I can’t help but become overwhelmed with love.
Men don’t come to baby showers…but our guys do.
I remember Damien telling me about their ‘ritual’ when one of their own has a baby, and I can’t believe I haven’t really thought of it before now.
It’s crazy to think about how everyone just stands around drinking, waiting for the good news and a simple photo. Normal people don’t do that.
Thank God none of us are normal, because I can’t imagine belonging anywhere else.