Chapter 15
Right Where He Wants To Be
? Your Everything - Keith Urban
Angelina
The ultrasound has been looming over me like a shadow for the past week. I’ve thought of little else leading up to it, and the added anxiety is doing absolutely nothing to help with the nausea.
A loud knock sounds at the door as I hop to pull on my jeans. They’re tighter than usual, and the button doesn’t want to close.
“Heya, Darlin’.” Griffin flashes a sickeningly sweet smile as he deposits a drink tray onto the kitchen island. He looks damn good in a pair of Wranglers that hug his thick, muscular thighs in the most delicious way, and one of his usual blue button-downs.
I glance up at his messy bun, and a far-off memory hits me. “Give me your hair tie.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” I hold out my hand and flap my fingers. “Gimme.”
His wavy hair tumbles around his shoulders as he pulls on the elastic. It should be illegal to be this hot.
Officer, it’s this one right here.
I take the black band and wrap it around the button of my jeans before threading it through the opposite loop and securing them together. It’s a little trick Jess showed me when she was pregnant with Emmy.
“Huh. Impressive.” Griffin turns his attention back to breakfast. The scent of something sweet permeates the air right before I get a hit of coffee. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
“Caffeine first. Talk later.”
He grimaces.
“Griffin Hayes, if you tell me that’s decaf, I’m gonna rip you a new one.”
He carefully slides a takeout cup across the counter. “Take mine. I’d much rather keep the old one.”
I quirk an eyebrow as I bring the cup to my lips. The sweet caramel hits my tongue first, followed by brown sugar and a hint of bitterness. “Since when do you drink brown sugar caramel macchiato?”
His mouth tips into a sexy smirk. “I don’t. I was just fucking with you.”
“You should know better than to mess with a woman’s caffeine.”
“That’s what Liv said when I was picking up the order.”
“I knew I liked her.”
He rifles through a Rosie’s Diner takeout bag and sets two containers on the counter. “I got a western omelet or buttermilk waffles. Take your pick.”
My stomach protests the very idea of food, but I have to get something down.
I slide onto the stool at the counter and dig into the omelet.
It’s delicious, but I only manage to get a few bites down before it threatens to resurface.
I dash across the hallway to the bathroom, and loud footsteps follow me there as I crash to my knees and heave what little I’ve eaten into the toilet.
His gentle hands gather my hair, and goose bumps skitter across my overheated skin. As he holds it away from my face, his other hand runs up and down my back. “No omelets then.”
“I think it’s just food in general at this point.” My voice echoes out of the toilet bowl. It would be funny if it weren’t so humiliating.
“Olivia used to suck on peppermints for the nausea.”
A sad smile blooms across my face. “That’s exactly what Jess would’ve said. When she was pregnant with Emmy, she constantly smelled like peppermint.” I wait a few minutes before I decide it’s safe to move. “You can let me go now.”
Griffin releases my hair and steps into the hallway while I clean myself up.
After putting away the leftovers, he leads me out to his truck.
All of my nerve endings are firing on overdrive as reality sets in.
In less than an hour, I’ll know for sure who the father of my baby is.
I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s Tyler.
He didn’t outright say he wanted nothing to do with it, but the sentiment—or lack thereof—was abundantly clear.
The leather seat creaks as Griffin leans over me from the driver’s side.
I draw in a sharp breath and hold it. His warm amber scent washes over me as his lips hover barely an inch away from mine.
I have the fleeting thought that he might kiss me, but he pulls back slowly, and my seatbelt clicks into place.
Griffin silently backs out of my driveway like he didn’t set my panties on fire.
I’m pretty sure pregnancy is making me exponentially hornier.
It’s probably one of the perks when you’re actually with someone who can fulfill those needs, but the only committed relationship I’m in is the one with my showerhead, shotgun wedding notwithstanding.
My knee bounces against the seat as I fidget with the radio.
Griffin’s palm slides against my thigh, stopping the movement. “Breathe, Angel. Everything's going to be fine.”
I slump back against the seat and shake my head. “What if it’s Tyler’s?”
His grip on my thigh tightens the barest amount. “It’s not.”
“It could be.”
“No. Not after what he’s put you through.
I don’t give a shit what the tests say.” He pulls into the parking lot of the medical plaza and turns to face me.
“No matter what happens today, we’re in this together.
Tyler can fuck off back to Mexico and stay there for all I care.
That baby in your belly is mine, whether the ultrasound confirms it or not. ”
“Griff—”
There’s something so determined in the set of his shoulders before his hand touches mine. “I mean it, Angel. I want this. You may not believe me yet, but I will prove it to you.”
I want to believe him, but my judgment is skewed. I’ve already been burned once. Opening myself up to another heartbreak is the last thing I need, even if I want to take everything he’s offering. I don’t want to go through this alone, but can I trust my heart on this one?
Griffin
Angie lies back on the exam table with her shirt pulled up over her belly. She has fresh pink stretch marks around her belly button—so faint you might not notice them unless you already have her body memorized.
If I said I wasn’t a bit nervous, I’d be a goddamn liar, but I can’t let on about my true feelings. I have to be strong for her no matter the outcome. She might not be ready to accept that I’m all in when it comes to her and the baby, but I’ve got roughly nine months to make her believe it.
Angie’s been yapping away for the last few minutes, but I’m too preoccupied by my thoughts to take any of it in.
“Based on your chart, you should be far enough along for an abdominal ultrasound, so we’ll try it this way first. If we have any issues seeing the baby clearly, we’ll switch to internal.”
I don’t have the balls to ask what that entails, but it sounds awkward and uncomfortable.
The sonographer, who introduced herself as Ashley, squirts a clear gel onto Angie’s stomach, and Angie winces. I’m at my wife’s side in an instant, taking her hand in mine.
Ashley smiles like she’s seen this happen a million times. “She’s fine, Dad. It’s just a little cold.”
Dad.
The title catches me off guard. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to me yet, but fuck if I don’t love the way it sounds.
Ashley presses a wand to Angie’s belly and moves it around with one hand while she taps some buttons on a big machine with the other. “Ready to see your baby?”
We both nod.
Angie’s grip tightens as Ashley turns the large screen to face us. The image is mostly black with some streaks of white and grey, and a little off to the left is a small alien-like blob. She glides the wand around, and the indistinct profile with a tiny nose and chin comes into focus.
Ashley presses a few more buttons, and a loud whooshing sound fills the room. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
Pride blooms in my chest as I stare in awe at the tiny being on the screen. Nobody speaks for a long while, but Angie’s hand never leaves mine.
“According to my calculations, you’re a little farther along than the original estimate.”
Angie sucks in a sharp breath, stiffening at my side. Disappointment hits me like a sucker punch to the ribs, but I don’t let it show.
Ashley doesn’t seem to notice the subtle shift in mood. “Based on these measurements, you’re roughly ten weeks along, which puts your due date around February fourteenth."
Ten weeks.
Fuck.
Angie tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t let her. Her smile has vanished, replaced by a look of utter devastation.
A lone tear falls down the side of her cheek, disappearing into her hair, and suddenly I’m too goddamn far away. I drop to my knees at her side and capture the next one with my thumb.
“This changes nothing,” I murmur.
The whooshing sound abruptly stops, and Ashley clears her throat. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”
I nod once and turn back to my wife as the door closes, leaving us alone in the dark. My heart hammers against my ribcage as desperation overpowers all reason. “I’m here for you, Angel. What do you need?”
She shakes her head almost imperceptibly. “Nothing. I’m sorry I dragged you into my mess.”
“I’m not. I’m right where I want to be.”
I mean it with every fiber of my being. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind about Angelina or her baby. They’re meant to be mine; I just need to make her believe it, too.
She closes her eyes and blows out a long breath. “I can’t ask you to play daddy to another man’s child. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“You aren’t asking.” The words come out harsher than I intended. I gentle my tone, running my thumb along the back of her hand. “I’m a man of my word, and I made a promise to you in that chapel all those weeks ago.”
“It was a mistake.” Her voice breaks on the last syllable. “I won’t hold you to it.”
I turn her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “I don’t make mistakes.”
“Griffin…”
“Don’t. No more excuses. No more hypothetical scenarios. We’re having a baby—you and me. I’m choosing you, Angel. You and the little one growing inside of you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you kidding me? I feel like I’ve won the goddamn lottery.”
She sets free a watery laugh. “Ok. Ok. I guess we’re doing this.”
Her smile is a balm that instantly soothes. I kiss the back of her hand. “We’ll work on the enthusiasm.”
A gentle knock sounds, and the door opens a crack. “Is it ok if I come back in?”
Angie pulls her hand away from mine to wipe away her tears, and I instantly miss the contact. “Yes. Come in.”
Ashley takes her seat behind the ultrasound machine again. “How about we get you some pictures to take home?”
We both nod, and I press my forehead against hers. “Our baby’s first pictures.”
She stares at the black-and-white image on the screen, reaching for my hand again. “Ours.”