Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
HARRIET
TWENTY-EIGHT WEEKS PREGNANT
I was never an early riser before pregnancy, preferring to leave the worm for the other birds. Having worked in hospitality for most of my life, you grow accustomed to late nights and mornings spent lazing in bed.
Warren is the opposite. Even after a grueling twenty-four shift, he wakes at the crack of dawn, either to work out or read a book with his morning coffee.
These days, I rise with the sun, and more recently, I haven’t woken alone.
Since Warren’s first night sleeping over two weeks ago, we’ve found the perfect balance between our busy schedules and have fallen into an easy routine. He spends his nights off here, and when he’s at the firehouse, I try to visit, or we FaceTime during his downtime.
The accident, while a nightmare—for Warren especially—was also a silver lining.
Warren has shed so many layers over the last few weeks, revealing more and more of himself in small quantities.
There are still moments he hesitates or worries, and I’ve woken to find him staring blankly at the ceiling on some occasions, but we’re miles from where we started.
I’m incredibly proud of him, even more so since he returned to full duties and continued seeing the therapist the department originally assigned him to.
Neither of us worked last night, and I can tell he’s awake by the way his hands travel a slow path across my body. Feigning sleep isn’t possible, especially when his palm cups my breast, thumb toying with my nipple.
I arch into him, rubbing my ass against the erection quickly growing behind his briefs.
Most evenings, I’m too tired for sex. Warren doesn’t care. He’ll cook me dinner, massage my feet, run me baths, and carry me to bed. The mood always seems to strike at sunrise.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” His voice is thick with sleep, tickling over my skin with its roughness.
“Mmm,” I grumble while enjoying his touch. One hand slips under my baggy T-shirt while the other toys with the hem of my panties. “Is this how I should expect to wake up every morning?”
“If that’s what my girl wants.” He shoves past my waistband and strokes softly between my legs before discarding them off to the side. “There she is. This pussy is always so wet and ready for me.”
Barely any attention, and I’m soaked.
I nod urgently while reaching behind me to free his cock. “I need you.”
He gathers my messy hair in his fist and decorates my nape with kisses. “I got you. Lift your leg for me. That’s it.”
My left leg hooks over his arm, and then he’s there, teasing my pussy with the thick head of his cock. Back and forth, he swipes it through my center. It drives me wild, forcing me to wiggle my hips in search of friction, pleading with him to put me out of my misery.
He takes pity, and the slow slide into me is euphoric. My moan is breathy and drawn out until his pelvis presses against my ass.
“This,” he husks against my neck, “is where I’d like to stay all day.”
He doesn’t move, simply rests inside me, hot and heavy.
“Warren,” I whine. “Do something.”
“Shhh.” He circles my nipple before plucking it lightly. “Let me enjoy the feel of you. Of how your perfect pussy hugs my cock so well. So fucking warm and tight. Right where I belong.”
My eyes roll backward at his filthy praise. He’s gentle and tender most of the time, so his dirty talk causes serious whiplash.
“Could you come like this? With you warming my cock while I play with these gorgeous tits?”
“I’m already halfway there,” I gasp. “But I want you to fuck me.”
“I will. Don’t you worry,” he croons. “Let’s test my theory first. Be a good girl and keep still for me.”
I try, I really do, but with Warren rolling both nipples between his fingers and whispering filthy promises, my body moves without instruction.
He tuts.
The attention he gives my breasts and the fullness of him inside me is enough. Up and up, my pleasure builds.
“You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.” His body is solid behind me, fighting off his own urges to thrust forward. “You’re gonna soak my cock, aren’t you? Go on, sweetheart. You have my permission.”
My body trembles. Lips moving without words. Pussy fluttering around his thickness.
With a sharp pinch of my tightened nipples, I tumble with a silent scream.
“Fuck. Fuck. Feels incredible,” Warren gasps.
Then, he’s moving, driving his hips forward before the last of my orgasm subsides.
“So, so sensitive.” I hook my arm behind his neck. “Jesus, I might come again.”
His measured movements soon turn sloppy. “Good, because I’m close. Play with your clit. Get yourself there.”
I circle my swollen bud, wet from my first orgasm, and before long, Warren’s curses fill the room as he shivers with his release.
We collapse into a heap, him still inside me and my body plastered to his front.
“I won’t be moving today.” I sigh.
Strong arms cradle me. “I’m afraid your attendance is required elsewhere.”
I twist in his hold, scowling with as much effort as my muscles can channel. “Nooo. Let me rot in bed, just for today.”
He swipes his thumb over my bottom lip before chasing it with a kiss. “I think you’ll like your afternoon plans.”
An hour after Warren delightfully satisfies my body, he tells me to pack a bag, ensuring I have a comfortable outfit and another to wear for a “fancy brunch.” Then, the girls turn, lips sealed, to whisk me away.
We drive for an hour, far into the country, before our destination comes into view.
Tucked away in the rolling hills, a farm pokes up. It’s only when we step inside that I’m wrongly mistaken. Once a blackberry farm, the cobbled building is now a luxurious spa. Mimosas—virgin for me—are placed in our hands before we’re escorted to the wellness lodge.
Now, in a dream-like state, I dip my noodle limbs in the pool following my treatment. Parker and Margot sip champagne in the hot tub while Talia treads water in front of me, her red mane piled high on her head.
I roll my shoulders with a sigh. “Can we do this every weekend?”
“If only.” She skims her hands over the ripples. “This is part one of your pre-baby retreat.”
“You three are the best. This is exactly what I needed.” The starts of the third trimester brought intense back pain, and my Mother-To-Be massage successfully relieved all the tension and discomfort.
“We can’t take all the credit.” She twists her lips. “Warren is the one who organized this little retreat.”
My mouth drops open. “He made out like this was all your doing.”
“Of course he did.” She rolls her eyes before wading away.
It’s classic of Warren to do something so sweet and not make a big fuss.
When we return to our hotel rooms, I grab my phone to drop him a very gushy, over-the-top thank you text to find he’s already messaged.
Warren: *picture cradling an eggplant*
Warren: Getting my practice in.
Safe to say, the photo of him smiling at the camera while holding the purple vegetable triggers the water works. I trace his face, noting how blissful he looks. The man from the fair all those months ago is still there, only his eyes have lost their sadness.
Harriet: Now I’m imaging you with the baby strapped to your chest.
Warren: How’s your afternoon?
Harriet: Incredible! You spoiled me and the girls. Thank you.
Warren: It was a group effort. I’ve got to get to the station, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy your dinner and rest.
Harriet: What’s tomorrow?
Warren: Wait and see.
We’ve come a long way in a short time. I attended a social media course last week, hoping to learn some tricks to getting my videos to reach a wider audience.
I’ve since had two videos go semi-viral, and my followers increased by 30 percent.
There’s no knowing if it will get my songs noticed, but it’s a start.
Everything is perfect. Or, almost. There’s still a tiny voice niggling in the corner of my brain, one I try to ignore. He’s putting in the work with his therapist, yet I can’t help but question if there’s more to his story. The most frustrating part is, I still haven’t seen where he lives.
Talia emerges from the bathroom. “The shower is yours. Oh, what’s wrong?”
I school my face and stand. “Nothing. I won’t be long.”
I take my phone into the bathroom, debating whether to broach the subject with Warren.
My fingers hover over the keys before thinking better of it, not wanting to disrupt the tranquility of what we’ve got going.
It’s not a big deal. I’ll see where he lives eventually, especially when the baby is here.
We haven’t really spoken logistics, and if things continue as they are, there won’t be many nights we spend apart, and it would make sense to station ourselves at the cottage.
Harriet: Button and I can’t wait to see you. Stay safe.
Blindfolded, Talia and Parker carefully guide me through the hotel lobby.
“Am I being kidnapped?” I ask, blindly turning left and right.
“Have you ever heard of a surprise?” Parker groans. “Two more minutes, and all will be revealed.”
“I hate surprises.”
Talia cackles. “You love surprises. You hate not being the one to organize them. Now, shut your trap.”
I snap my lips together. We stop and go through another door, where the air is cooler, and I swear, I hear hushed voices.
Bright light burns my eyes when Parker removes the blindfold.
After blinking away the white spots, I take in the small summer room.
Bathed in sunbeams, yellow streamers, and balloons hang from the glass ceiling, and sitting around a large round table sit my closest friends.
“Happy baby shower!” they all cheer.
Naturally, I burst into tears.
Margot and Willow are the first to hug me. Jimmy’s wife, Brenda, is here, along with several women from the distillery. Diana, Lilah, and Jackie fuss over me. I’m so caught up in my emotions, I don’t notice the new arrivals until a strong arm loops around my waist.
Smoke and spice envelop me.
“Sorry we’re late, sweetheart.” A kiss is pressed to my crown, and I stare up, startled by Warren’s arrival.
“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.” I place my hand on his chest. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you.”
He chuckles. “I’m not staying long. Just dropping off a few stragglers.”
Warren steps aside, revealing the newcomers. It was futile applying makeup this morning. I must resemble a hormonally challenged panda as more tears soak my face.
With a wriggling toddler on her hip, my sister smiles at me. “Surprise!”
I twist to Warren before flicking my attention back to Johanna. “You cannot do this to a pregnant woman. It’s abuse,” I blubber.
“Come here, you damn mess.”
I’m still getting used to my protruding belly and almost topple Jo over like a bowling pin. Madeline, my niece, tangles her sticky little fingers in my hair as I take her from her mom while Lottie, Jo’s step-daughter, bounces on her toes in excitement.
“Look at the two of you!” I gush. “You’re both getting so big.”
“Have you got any weird cravings, Auntie Harriet? Can I feel the baby kick? Did you know we flew on a plane?” Lottie spews her questions in quick succession, making my heart squeeze.
I try to FaceTime my nieces as much as possible, not wanting them to forget who I am, but nothing beats the real thing.
I peer over the top of Madeline’s head to find Warren trying his hardest not to look overwhelmed as Lottie talks his head off about how tall he is and if he knows her daddy and uncles.
Thank you, I mouth.
He shrugs it off.
If I wasn’t halfway to falling in love with him, this would be the cherry on top.
Madeline fusses in my arms, babbling nonsense until she fixes Warren with a curious stare, studying him untactfully, as one-year-olds do.
“Ugg.” She stretches her chubby little arms toward him. “Ugg. Ugg.”
“Can someone translate?” he asks.
“Hug,” Jo tells him. “But you really don’t have to. She’s due for a nap and is drooling like crazy.”
“Ugg. Ugg!” Madeline nosedives out of my hold. Warren is there in a flash, catching the squirming child and tucking her against his chest with a petrified expression.
“Fu—” He cuts himself off. “She moves fast.”
Johanna stifles her giggle when Madeline pokes at Warren’s mustache while a line of dribble soaks his shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind and allows her to explore his face, even laughing when she gouges him in the eye.
I go to relieve him when she releases a big yawn and rests her head on his shoulder.
There’s no awkwardness or apprehension. He rubs slow circles on her back and looks at Johanna. “Enjoy time with your sister. I’m happy to watch her.”
Did I say halfway?