Chapter Thirty-Three
Caleb
“I’m so mad at you,” Zadie grumbled. “I hate this. I hate everything.”
Sweat dotted her forehead, stray curls clung to her face and neck, and her tank top hugged every curve, barely concealing her chest or the enormous swell of her belly.
She was so fucking beautiful.
“If that’s what it takes to make you feel better, hate away.” I kissed her damp temple. “I still love you.”
“I’m sorry.” She pouted, pressing both hands into the small of her back. “I love you too. I’m just so uncomfortable. I don’t know how you talked me into this.”
Abby rolled slowly past us on her board, arms extended for balance, a giant smile plastered across her face.
“I thought it was your idea,” I reminded Zadie. “I distinctly remember you saying that exercise and the excitement of watching me show off might help.”
Her brow furrowed into something murderous. “Yeah, well, you’re the one who agreed with me.”
“If this doesn’t work, we can try something else.”
She looked at me with pleading eyes.
I leaned close to her ear. “An orgasm might do the trick.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes so hard it should’ve hurt. “We’ve tried that. Twice today. Besides, I won’t have any energy left by the time we’re done here.”
Abby wheeled her way over to us, carefully stopping before she got too close.
“Is the baby ready to come yet?” she asked.
“Doesn’t seem like it,” Zadie answered, frustration still laced through every syllable.
“Darn.” Abby frowned. “Too bad you’re not allowed to skateboard. I bet that would make it happen.”
Zadie laughed. “You’re probably right. It would scare her right out.”
Her.
Every time I heard it, I pictured a cherub-faced, brown-eyed beauty. A miniature Zadie. A little girl who’d have me wrapped around her finger before she took her first breath.
A miracle I was already in love with.
“All right, I’m going to walk more laps,” Zadie sighed. “Keep up the good work, Abby. You’ll be better than Caleb before long.”
She waddled toward Chantel and Melanie, her belly leading the way. More than a week overdue and still moving, still fighting, still refusing to let discomfort win.
“Do you think she’s right?” Abby asked, watching Zadie go. “Do you think I can actually be good at this?”
“This is only your first time. It’ll take a lot of practice. You up for that?”
“Yes. As long as you’re my teacher, I know I can.” This kid was so damn bold. She’d stared down something that tried to kill her and come out the other side with her fire intact.
“Then there’s your answer. Now get back to it.”
She was still too thin, her hair growing in uneven patches, and she wasn’t cleared for anything more than standing on the board and gliding in straight lines.
But when she strapped on her helmet and kneepads, she got this excited look in her eyes, like she was hungry for something new.
And every time her feet hit the deck, she radiated pure joy.
Maybe she loved skateboarding. Or maybe she was just ecstatic to be alive. To have the chance to do anything at all.
Either way, her expression was all the motivation I needed.
Abby was one of four kids I’d committed to mentoring through their recovery. Skateboarding was the hook, but the real goal was helping them heal by giving them something that belonged to them. Something that had nothing to do with cancer or hospitals or treatment protocols.
Unexpectedly, it had given a lot to me too. The mentoring was only part-time, but I was dedicated and passionate. It was one more step toward the future I was building.
And I’d been taking a lot of steps.
So had Zadie. I watched as she passed by on another lap, one hand on her belly, the other swinging wide while Chantel talked her ear off. She looked so damn uncomfortable on her feet.
Of course, she’d barely been on her feet for the last six weeks. Her doctor had suggested frequent breaks at work, but Chantel took it one step further and forced her to quit.
Now I was working at The Summit, bartending part-time alongside Zane.
Jeremy was gone, and I’d slid into the rotation without looking back.
Eric had offered me something in the resort’s PR department, but I wanted to earn my way in on my own terms. The bar gig paid my bills and kept me close to the family business without riding on anyone’s coattails.
Abby rolled forward again, steadier this time, arms no longer flailing. Maybe this winter I’d take her snowboarding at the resort, if school didn’t swallow me whole.
I’d enrolled at Georgian College.
The pre-health sciences program started in the fall.
It would keep me in Copper Ridge through the baby’s first year, close to Zadie, my family, and the hospital where I volunteered.
After that, the plan was Western University in London for medical school.
Smaller city than Toronto. Top-notch program.
Close enough to Copper Ridge that we wouldn’t lose the roots we’d planted.
Zadie had finished her business diploma in April. Graduated with honors, which surprised exactly no one who’d ever met her. She was already talking about what came next. Not just business, but her art.
She’d started painting again. Really painting. Filling canvases with the kind of raw, red-soaked emotion that made me stop and stare. Chantel had hung three of them in the house without asking. Zadie had pretended to be annoyed.
When the time came to move to London, she’d come with me. We’d already talked about it. She’d find work, keep painting, raise our daughter while I buried myself in textbooks. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing about us had ever been easy. That was kind of the point.
For now, I’d moved my stuff out of Chantel’s spare room and across the hall into Zadie’s.
It was the bigger of the two bedrooms, and the room I’d been sleeping in was already being set up as the nursery.
Chantel had opinions about the paint color.
Zadie had opinions about Chantel’s opinions.
I stayed out of it and assembled the crib.
I smiled as I watched Zadie walk her laps around the edge of the skate park, trying to convince our daughter to make an appearance before her doctor forced the issue. She’d tried everything. So had I.
Well, almost everything.
There was still one more step I’d been waiting to take. A three-stone engagement ring that had been burning a hole in my pocket for months.
Every day, I fought the urge to drop to one knee and just ask her. Every moment of waiting felt like wasted time. But I wanted to do it right. So I was being patient. Taking it slow.
“Caleb!” Abby called from across the flat section. “Can I try a trick? Going straight is too easy.”
“You think you’re a pro already?”
“No.” She grinned. “But I’m bored.”
“You’re not ready for tricks,” I told her, and her expression fell. “But how about you help me with one of mine?”
“Really?” She bounced on her toes.
“Go sit right there.” I pointed. “Don’t move a muscle.”
She planted herself exactly where I’d directed, eyes wide with anticipation.
“We’ll give your mom and my girls a show.”
“Yes!”
“You cannot move,” I warned. “Or the trick doesn’t work.”
There was no trick, really. I hit the ramps a couple of times, flew through a flip that got Abby clapping, then rode circles around her, carving figure eights that made her shriek with delight.
I launched off the ramp one more time, savoring the weightless moment at the top—that split second of suspended gravity that still felt like freedom—before landing clean and racing back toward Abby.
She wasn’t where I’d left her.
She was up, moving toward me, her face frozen in an expression I couldn’t read.
I veered hard to the right, avoiding her. “Abby! You weren’t supposed to move. I could’ve hurt you.”
“But—” Her eyes were huge. “Zadie.”
I whipped around.
She was still by the edge of the park, one arm draped over Chantel’s shoulders, the other clutching her belly. Melanie was at her other side, rubbing her back.
“Zadie!” I yelled, the board already forgotten on the ground behind me.
“Her water broke!” Chantel shouted back.
“Is the baby coming now?” Abby grabbed my arm.
“I think so.” I looked down at her and couldn’t stop the grin. “I think so, yeah.”
“You’re going to be a dad!” She was practically vibrating. “I can’t wait to meet your baby!”
“Me neither.” I squeezed her hand, then let go and ran.
“Cal.” Zadie reached for me as I skidded to a stop in front of her. Her face was flushed, her eyes wild, her hand outstretched.
“I’m here.” I took her fingers and held on. “I’m right here.”
“Oh God.” A contraction hit and she doubled forward, her grip crushing my hand. “An hour ago I was begging her to come. Now I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” Chantel scoffed from her other side.
“I know you can.” I cupped her face with my free hand, holding her gaze steady. “And you’re not doing this alone. You’ve got me. I’ve got you.”
“Thank you, Cal.” Her brow crinkled, and a tear trailed down her cheek. “You’ve always believed in me. You’ve always believed in us.”
My own eyes stung. A single tear clung to my lashes, and I let it stay.
Zadie shifted out of Chantel’s hold and let me fold her into my arms. She pressed her face against my chest, her belly warm and firm between us.
“I believe in us too,” she whispered, kissing my jaw.
“Okay,” Chantel cut in, her voice firm but cracking at the edges. “Enough standing around. You need to get to the hospital. It’s time to meet your daughter.” She looked at both of us. “Both of you.”
“Yes, Doc.” Zadie laughed through her tears. “Let’s go.”
Always beautiful and brave.
And mine.