Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
FERN
L ife, God, or karma have a twisted sense of humor, and they’re out to get me.
One of them, the three of them. All I know is that this is a conspiracy against me.
Elliot McPhee has been living with me for the past two weeks.
This is making me wonder what I did to deserve this punishment.
I try to be a good person. Not the kind that will help an old lady cross the street, because in this century, there are plenty of pedestrian lights, and they also use scooters.
Not the point, of course. I run a foundation that helps thousands, if not millions, of people. That should grant me some immunity against this… what do I even call this kind of torture.
I wake up every morning and start puking.
Perfect-handsome-eight-packed-god is right by my side, rubbing my back and telling me soothing words.
As if he’s ready to be the most amazing and nurturing man, he shows up a few minutes after I’m done with my shower with a glass of orange, ginger, lemon juice—to help with the morning sickness.
Elliot prepares breakfast every single day, and he drives me to work. He brings me lunch and snacks, and anyone would think that his only job is to take care of me.
He’s so fucking perfect, and how am I supposed to resist him? Boundaries should include not being gentlemanly and caring.
I can’t fall in love with him… more than I already am.
This morning the routine doesn’t change. He’s right by my side, holding my hair and making me feel like I’m not alone. I should be kicking him out of my house, but where will he stay?
Who will pamper me at night and be my human pillow while we watch romantic comedies?
I shouldn’t get used to him. But he’s so comfortable and nice, and… how can I stop falling so hard for him?
Houston, we have a problem. I’m falling madly in love with the father of my babies.
Abort the mission!
“Did you sleep well?” he asks with that husky morning voice that makes me want to push him down on my bed and ride him.
I don’t look at him and nod. It’s the only way to keep myself from doing something stupid. I made the rules. I’ll stick to them.
“Fern, is everything okay, baby?”
Don’t call me that, or I will melt into a puddle of lustful goo.
It won’t look pretty during the board meeting.
Can I call in sick? Aslan lets my brothers connect through the company’s interface when they have other things to do.
He even sends them recordings if they have to miss all of it. He should do that for me.
I’ll do that.I’m going to message him and request him to just send me the recording next Monday.
It’s a good day to stay at home and… what should I do? Elliot has been helping me with the foundation. It’s not like I have anything urgent to do today.
“What are your plans for the weekend?” Elliot asks as if he’s reading my mind.
I think he put some device in my head because he’s pretty good at knowing what I need or what I’m thinking. It’s weird.
Finally, I have to look at him. “Why?”
He has that boyish smile that makes me want to say yes to anything he requests or suggests. “I thought we could go to Santa Cruz. We drive there today and stay until Monday night.”
Is he fucking kidding me? You stupid karma, playing with my feelings and toying with my life.
The last time we were in that house, we fucked like bunnies—on every surface of the place.
If I go there again, I’m just going to be thinking things like, yep, on top of the railing was hot. Can we make it hotter ?
“Why are you glaring at me?”
I huff and walk toward my closet. “I don’t want to like you.”
“Get your weekend bag ready. I might teach you a few surfing moves.” I can hear the smile in his voice. Is he doing this on purpose?
I should just tell him to pack his things and leave me.
“Not interested.”
“You’ll love it, I promise.”
“I have a meeting at Spearman LP. They’re expecting me there.”
He pulls out his phone. “Hey, Fern isn’t feeling well. She’s skipping today’s meeting.”
I gawk at him. “What are you doing?”
“Letting Aslan know that you won’t be there.” He nods and shakes his head. “No, I’m taking her to Santa Cruz. Hopefully, being there will help her relax. Sure, you guys can join. Just know that I only have six guest rooms. You do that. I’ll make sure to send you the bill.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What was that about?”
“He found a lot close to the house, and he wants me to build him a house too. He says it’s fair since I got the lot next to the family vineyard.”
I frown. “Did you buy it?”
He nods. “We have people demolishing the old house. Once I know what we’re working with, we can develop a plan and decide what we’re going to build.”
“You don’t have to call my brothers to cancel appointments or reschedule meetings. I can do it.”
He crosses his arms and gives me a skeptical look. “Were you going to do it? I know you can, but you have trouble advocating for yourself, Fern. Either you start doing it or I’ll do it.”
“Why?”
“Because you push yourself too hard, and if you don’t take care of yourself, I will, baby.” He takes me into his arms, and I don’t fight him or the kiss he gives me. This is not going to end well.
Okay, so that no sex rule went out the window—four weeks ago.
I’m fourteen weeks pregnant with a little pouch that says baby on board, and the desire to jump Elliot doesn’t go away.
If anything, I want to have sex with him all day.
Even now, while I’m at the image center about to find out if I’m having more than one baby.
From what I’ve read and what I discussed with June, I’m definitely having more than one.
Elliot and I call them the minis.
As the technician enters the room, I start trembling. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Elliot takes my hand and leans closer to whisper, “It’s going to be okay.”
“I know.”
He kisses my nose. “Stop shaking, I’m here for you.”
“I don’t know why I’m doing it.”
Elliot puts a hand on my belly and whispers, “No matter how many babies we’re having, it’s going to be okay.”
“Of course,” I mumble.
He takes both of my hands and squeezes them.
I don’t think he believes that I’m fine.
I don’t even know why I’m worried. I’ve done this before.
This time they aren’t poking my vagina to find the sacs.
They’re detectable according to what I’ve been reading.
Still, I drank lots of water to ensure they’re visible during the sonogram. It should be fine.
The technician squeezes the gooey gel on my belly and begins to move the wand. The thumping sound makes my heartbeat accelerate. There they are.
“Do you hear that?” I ask Elliot, who nods.
He’s grinning from ear to ear and bends down to kiss me. “I do.”
“Okay, so we have a baby here and then a second one here. We’ll call them A and B.” I’m staring at the screen while she begins to measure them.
She doesn’t mention the third one, so I say, “There has to be three. Can you see him?”
The technician shakes her head. “No. I can only hear two heartbeats.” Still, she goes around my belly, and after a while, she says. “It’s only two.”
I don’t know why I start to cry. They were supposed to be three. Three mini McPhee-Spearmans. We were already picking names, matching them, but none of them starting with the same letter. We wanted a theme, and now…
What are they going to do without the other one? They were going to be the three musketeers.
“It’s okay,” Elliot says. “We’ll get number three later. Maybe they decided we can only handle two at a time.”
I sniff and nod, but I can’t stop sobbing. He kisses me, but the kiss is more like a peck. It’s a promise that these two are just the beginning. We’ll be fine, and things are perfect and the way they’re supposed to be.
And I feel it.
Love.
Maybe it is the love I have for him and our babies and the love I wish he had for me. I don’t know how this will end, but at least I’ll tell these little ones that their father is a great man who, at some point, I loved, and isn’t that what matters?