Chapter 2
Braxton Hicks contractions are the most useless and annoying things in the universe, I’ve decided.
Bracing my palms against the sides of my rounded belly, I sigh heavily. They’re not painful, necessarily, but they’re not all cupcakes and rainbows, either.
“You okay, Mom?”
I smile into the rearview mirror at my eight-year-old son, Dalton. “Yeah, I’m fine, bud. You all buckled in?”
He nods, his chocolate brown eyes finding mine in the mirror from the backseat. “Penny dropped her cup, but I grabbed it for her.”
“You’re the best helper,” I say to him with another smile as I put my minivan in reverse and back out of the parking spot at the grocery store. We did a huge grocery haul in preparation for the new baby’s arrival in the next couple weeks, and the back end of the van is loaded down with grocery bags.
I’m already dreading carrying them all inside.
My back hurts, my feet are swollen—not that I can see them at this point anyway—and these stupid false contractions are just uncomfortable enough to make me more emotional than usual. I know Dalton will help me carry some of the bags in, my little helper, but the heavier bags are all mine.
The drive home is short, and by the time I’m pulling into the driveway, Penny, my four-year-old, is chomping at the bit to get out of her car seat. Dalton helps her unbuckle while I slowly slide out of the driver's seat and grab my purse. The baby stretches, and I press a hand to where I can feel her rump pressing just below my ribs and smile.
“Almost there, baby girl,” I whisper, then laugh when I feel a kick. My heart aches, seizing my chest even as I smile. This pregnancy has been bittersweet to say the least.
I never thought I’d be doing all of this alone. Going to appointments, seeing the ultrasounds, hearing that whooshing thump of her heartbeat on the monitor, all of it without Logan.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to be doing this alone.
I wasn’t supposed to be a widow at thirty-one with two— almost three —kids. Logan was supposed to be here. My sweet, loving, goofy Logan. My high school sweetheart and the best Daddy ever. The man with a heart of gold and a giving nature… but it had cost him his life, and now I’m left here alone. So alone and tired and scared all the time. I hate it.
But this is how I want it. It’s safe this way.
Thank god for my brother and his girlfriend, Scottie, and Logan’s parents. My new friend Vi has been a godsend, too. We met about a month ago, after I moved to Sky Ridge to be closer to Cal and Scottie, and her friendship has been exactly what I needed. I honestly don’t know how I would have survived the last six months without them all.
Dalton clicks the button to open the slider door and he hops out, then helps Penny climb down. We make our way to the back of the van and I open the back hatch. Thank modern mechanics for hands free liftgates, because bending over is pretty much not happening at this point .
“I can carry some,” Dalton says, looking up at me. I smile, ruffling the hair on the top of his head. He ducks away but grins.
“How about you take these two bags,” I say, taking some of the lighter ones, handing one to Penny and one to Dalton. “And take Penny inside while I grab some more?”
“Okay!” they say in unison, taking hold of the plastic handles, and then they’re off. I contemplate just loading up my arms with as many bags as I can physically carry, but decide against it, just taking a few and following my kids up the paved pathway to our front door. It’s a single story, split townhouse with duplex apartments on either side. It’s not big, but we have enough space for just us.
And it’s less than ten minutes away from Cal and Scottie.
Glancing over at the door that matches ours on the other side of a bricked partition, I sigh. Pretty sure Cal had insisted on this house because his boss—who also happens to be his best friend—lives next door and can help keep an eye on us, too.
While I appreciate the sentiment and the fact that my brother just wants to make sure we’re all okay… did we have to move into an apartment directly next to Xander?
His side of the driveway is empty, his black pick-up truck not in its usual spot, and I can’t help but sigh in relief.
The man makes me nervous.
Not in a bad way… but in a ‘good lord this man is outrageously attractive and the way he watches me makes me blush’ kind of way.
I’ve known Xander Macomb for years, first as my brother’s coworker, then best friend, and most recently, as his boss. Pretty sure he, Logan, and Cal had all gotten drunk together playing beer pong at a family barbeque a couple years ago. He’s come with Cal to Dalton’s baseball games, and had sent a teddy bear to Penny after she’d had her tonsils removed earlier this year.
He had come with Cal to Logan’s funeral.
I honestly don’t remember much of that day. I know he’d been there, but I was so numb with grief I simply don’t remember many details from that entire week, let alone the day itself.
Lifting the groceries onto the counter, I get Penny situated in the living room with her tablet to keep her occupied, and then Dalton and I head back outside to get more groceries. Leaning in awkwardly to reach a bag that’s rolled to the back, I groan when I hear the familiar rumble of Xander’s truck as he pulls into his side of the driveway. Why now?
“Hey, Xander!” Dalton calls to him across the yard, and then I hear the door of his truck shut with a clang. A particularly brutal Braxton Hicks contraction tightens my belly and I hiss out a breath between my teeth as I straighten, pressing a palm to my stomach.
“Teddy?”
His deep voice is laced with concern as he reaches us, and I blow out a breath as the false contraction eases. Bracing myself, I raise my eyes to his. He’s got the most incredible eyes I've ever seen, and they never fail to stun me. They’re an icy sky blue with darker rings around the edges and flecks of gray near the irises. He has dark, annoyingly long lashes that fan out around them. His face and arms are tanned, like he works out in the sun shirtless a lot, and his lower face is darkened with a close-trimmed dark beard.
He’s wearing a pair of jeans that fit way too well, and an ancient looking Petoskey Fire Department t-shirt that molds to his upper body. His dark hair is thick and just a tad too long; the ends are curled slightly beneath the brim of his Detroit Tigers baseball hat.
“You alright?” he asks gently, stepping up close. His gaze travels over me completely, from head to toe, and I can’t help the blush that spreads across my cheeks in embarrassment.
I nod, dropping my hand from my belly. Baby does another stretch; she doesn’t like the false contractions either. I give him a small smile, though I can still feel the heat of the blush on my cheeks. Why does he have to be here to witness this? “Just a little false contraction. I’ve been getting them a lot this week.”
“Should you be heading to the hospital?” he asks, his dark brows furrowing over those eyes.
Shaking my head, I laugh. “No, it’s okay. They’re normal, and not anything to be concerned about. I had them for two months before I went into labor with this one,” I chuckle, draping my arm over Dalton’s shoulders.
“Mom,” Dalton groans, shrugging out from under my arm. “You’re embarrassing me.”
Xander laughs, and the sound does something to me. It’s low and deep and soothing. I miss the sound of a man’s laugh.
“Hey, Champ,” he says, holding out his fist to my son. Dalton bumps his knuckles to Xander’s and grins. “What do you say we grab the rest of these bags for your mom?”
“Xander, I can carry my own groceries—” I protest, but he pins me with that blue stare. My words trail off.
“Absolutely not,” he says quietly. “Your brother would never forgive me if he knew I let you carry all this in by yourself. You go inside and sit down, Dalton and I can handle this.”
“Xander—”
“Teddy.” His tone stops my protest. Deep and husky and laced with just a little bit of heat. My cheeks bloom with another blush as he stares at me. “ Let me help you .”
He doesn’t pose it as a question, and I know arguing won’t do any good, so I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
I move to pick up a couple bags and the man growls at me. Full on growls . “Don’t touch those bags, Teddy. I’m warning you.”
Dalton giggles and I roll my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”
Xander places his hands on my shoulders and gently moves me away from the van and the pile of groceries, then turns me toward the townhouse. “I said go sit down. Dalton and I have this under control, right Champ?”
“Right!” Dalton exclaims. I shake my head again, but do as he says.
Penny requests that I sit next to her on the couch when I come through the door, so I sink slowly into the cushions and let her snuggle into my side as Dalton and Xander make the several trips in with the remaining groceries. His gaze takes in the space and I scrunch my face up in mortification. Penny’s toys are all over the living room floor that I didn’t take the time to clean up earlier, and there’s dishes in the sink from lunch that should probably be rinsed and put in the dishwasher.
When I make to stand, Xander glares at me, pointing one finger at me. “Don’t move. We’ve got this, remember?” Turning to Dalton, he asks, “Can you help me put these away?”
“Yeah!” he says, grinning, and I can’t help the smile that pulls at my own mouth. He’s missed having a guy around.
Grief seizes me then. I miss my husband. So much. It’s strange having another man in my space, even if he’s only here to help because of his loyalty to my brother.
It doesn’t take long before the two have all of my groceries unbagged, sorted, and then put away. A few items he had to ask where to put them, to which I answered from my spot on the couch with a grin.
Bunching up the plastic bags, Dalton shows Xander where we keep the ‘bag of bags’ under the sink, and then they’re finished. Dalton looks so darn proud of himself, and Xander offers him his knuckles for another fist bump. “Good work, Champ. Thanks for the help.”
Scooting to the edge of the couch, I brace my hand on the arm of the sofa to push myself up awkwardly, but before I can, Xander is in front of me with his hands outstretched.
I laugh and blush, rolling my eyes. What a sight I must be. I’ve never been small, but being at the tail end of my third pregnancy has me feeling like a beached whale. Placing my hands in both of his, I allow him to help me up from my seat on the couch. God, I can’t wait for this baby to get here. These last few weeks have been torture and have been hard on my body this go around.
He steadies me, taking a step back so that my stomach doesn’t bump into his. His body is hard all over, heavily muscled and tanned. Every part of me is soft and big, especially now, and it makes me self-conscious being this close to a man built like a damn god. It’s unfair.
“Thank you,” I murmur, ducking my head and dropping my hands from his to smooth my shirt out over my belly. My leggings are soft and cling to every inch of my legs, and I’m thankful the top I’m wearing is flowy and covers my butt. “And thank you for doing all of that. You didn’t have to.”
“You don’t have to do all of this alone, Teddy,” he says gently, but takes several steps back. “I’m right next door if you need anything.”
I laugh then, crossing my arms over my stomach as we make our way toward the door. I feel bad that he and Cal feel that they have to babysit me. I try so hard to hide away my grief and be superwoman so they don’t worry, but that’s clearly failing on my end. “You’re home once every two weeks, Xander.”
“Well, if I’m home and you need anything, you come get me, okay? You have my number,” he says, staring down at me.
I laugh again. “Yes, I have your number. Cal made sure I have it for emergencies… though I think that’s what 911 is for, too. They might get here quicker than you most times.”
He laughs, nodding sheepishly. “Well, we both feel better knowing you have someone else looking out for you and the kids. At least when we’re home, I’m just a few feet away.”
“We’re fine,” I assure him, my chest tightening. He’s such a kind man. I just wish he didn’t make me so damn nervous. Why couldn’t I have a nice elderly neighbor that doesn’t look like Xander? That doesn’t look at me the way Xander does… I shake my head to clear the thought before another blush can tinge my cheeks. “Logan’s parents check in regularly. And I have Scottie nearby, too.” He nods.
“I mean it, Teddy,” he urges as he steps out the door. “If you need anything. Day or night. You come get me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding.
“Try to relax a little, alright? No lifting anything heavy.”
I snort a laugh and roll my eyes at him. We both know he’s being ridiculous, but I’ll let him if it makes him feel better. “Okay.”
He stares at me from my front patio. “Good night, Teddy.”
“Good night, Xander,” I whisper before closing the door. His heavy footfalls fade into silence as he walks away, and I’m once again alone with my kids.