Chapter 29 #2
They settled around the dining table with Roxy, as I whipped up a spread of grilled chicken club sandwiches on thick sourdough, loaded with crispy bacon, melted Swiss, and avocado slices.
For Ed and Elsa, I mixed up celebratory gin fizzes.
For Roxy and me, I shook up a mocktail using fresh lime, mint, and ginger beer.
‘Why aren’t you having the real stuff, Angel?’ Ed asked, taking a huge bite of his sandwich.
‘I’m keeping it dry,’ I said, winking across the table at Roxy. ‘No drinking in solidarity with my wife. Can’t let her suffer through this phase alone.’
‘Look at you, being a softie,’ Ed teased, his booming laugh echoing through the kitchen.
We ate and chatted, catching up on life and family for another hour.
After lunch, I walked out with my arm encircling my wife as we escorted her mum and uncle outside into the bright afternoon sun.
Ed climbed into the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes SUV, leaving Elsa on the gravel driveway to say her final goodbyes.
She hugged her daughter and whispered into her ear.
Then she turned to embrace me, standing on her tiptoes to whisper into my ear.
‘I’m happy you chose Roxy, honey,’ Elsa whispered, her tone fierce and maternal. ‘It took you a while to show up to the party, but I always hoped she would be your girl. Make her happy, or I’ll kick you in the arse, ratbag.’
I let out a loud chuckle in surprise.
‘Ma’am, I’m scared of you now.’
‘You will be if you’re ever a beast to my daughter,’ she smirked, tapping my cheek.
We shared a genuine laugh as she settled into the passenger seat.
I closed the door for her, and the SUV soon rolled down the long, dusty driveway.
I wandered back to the porch where Roxy stood, her stunning face lit up by the warm, golden rays of the sunset.
‘Your mum is way happier since leaving Reese,’ I rasped, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to my side. ‘I like this version of her.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Roxy chuckled, leaning her head on my shoulder. ‘Behind her genteel mask lies a wily mind, a wicked tongue, and a heart of pure gold. I can’t wait to see how she shines after coming out from under my father’s shadow.’
ROXY
Since my mum and Uncle Ed’s visit, the disquiet between Angel and me eased.
He was more attentive and devoted than ever.
He pressed more quick kisses to my temple, hugged me often, and showed his affection.
I allowed the touches, but I never reciprocated.
I just wasn’t there yet.
My morning sickness was finally fading, and my pregnancy bump was becoming more noticeable.
Angel drove me to the clinic for my seventeen-week ultrasound.
The technician slid the gel over my skin, pointing to the monitor.
‘Your baby is active and moving well. The limb coordination from week sixteen helped them become pretty mobile. They’re flexing their joints, bouncing, flipping, and turning, testing out their gymnastic abilities.’
Elated at the clean bill of health, we drove home and celebrated with a stir-fry, mocktails, and a movie.
As the days passed, I dealt with an itchy, stretching belly and more pounds on the scale.
I also began to feel tiny flutters from inside.
One night, Angel walked into my bedroom to drop off a glass of water.
A kick, followed by a slower poke, hit me from the inside.
‘Angel, come here,’ I whispered, reaching out. ‘Quick. Put your hand right here.’
He kicked off his shoes and slid into the bed behind me, wrapping his massive frame around my back.
He cradled my bump with his palm.
We lay in the quiet room, staring at my tummy as the tiny movements rippled against his fingers.
‘Woah, mama, I felt that.’
‘Those first exciting kicks are called the quickening,’ I murmured.
He stroked my belly, waiting in silence to feel the next one.
More rippling had Angel, taking in breaths of wonder until baby hushed.
We too quietened, remaining entwined as the rhythm of Angel’s steady breathing lulled me to sleep.
We woke up the next morning, tangled in the sheets.
Angel woke me when he shifted, propping himself on an elbow to gaze down at me.
My eyes fluttered open to his handsome face, and I jolted.
‘We fell asleep, hey?’ he rasped, his voice thick with sleepy grit.
We locked eyes for a long time, the air charged with electricity.
When he leaned in to kiss me, my panic flared.
I pulled my face away, burying it in his chest.
I caught the flash of hurt in his eyes before he masked it.
My heart wasn’t ready yet for all that Angel was offering.
His commitment and care were incredible, but a stubborn part of me remained reticent, unsure whether to open the final door.
Angel was riding the farm’s John Deere mower, neatening the back lawn.
I was using a wooden rake to pile dead leaves in the backyard.
The weather was flawless, the sky a brilliant blue with soft, drifting clouds.
He navigated the machine near my workstation, gave me a wicked wink, and drove the exhaust right through my neat leaf pile, scattering them everywhere.
‘You did not just do that,’ I muttered, slicing a hand over my throat.
I gripped the pitchfork, scooped up a massive heap of damp oak foliage, and lobbed it straight at his head.
He ducked, but a stray gust carried the pile right into his face.
He rode off chuckling, throwing his corded neck back as he did, at the same time trying to steer the mower while digging twigs out of his shirt and hair.
A sudden, violent surge of love hit my chest so hard I froze, watching him laugh.
‘Woman, I’m going to get you,’ he shouted over the engine roar. ‘This is war.’
He killed the ignition, hopped off the seat, and scooped up a massive armful of leaves.
He prowled toward me with a playful glint in his eye, but I just stared at him, my hands clutching the rake handle.
He dropped the bundle at his feet, his humor vanishing.
‘You OK, babe?’
‘I’m fine.’
He arched a brow. ‘Why the stunned expression?’
‘Because you’re happy,’ I whispered. ‘Over the years, you lost that carefree laugh, but now you’re smiling more.’
He tilted his head, his gaze boring straight into my soul.
‘That’s because of you, and the fact that I love you. You lift my soul every time I see you.’
He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me, and pressed a tender kiss to my forehead.
‘You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to say,’ he whispered against my skin. ‘But thank you for helping me heal, babe.’
I loved him. I always had.
However, as I leaned back to give him a tremulous smile, I realized I still needed a little more time to find my way back to trust again.
The rest of the week unfolded like a dream.
When my lower back ached, he worked the knots out with his thumbs.
When I craved greasy fries at midnight, he drove into town to get them.
On my very worst days, his presence made everything better.
I could be my one hundred percent authentic self with him, no matter how messy, sad, or annoyed I was.
Angel was still managing his business concerns, sharing how much he managed each day. He had commercial property investments, share portfolios, accountants, lawyers, and his career to oversee.
He also kept an eye on his parents’ affairs, from helping them set aside their retirement money to organizing doctor visits so they wouldn’t have to stress.
His sisters, Clair and Marnie, phoned him for advice on their own lives. He always took their calls with patience and love.
He was tidy to my messy.
He was focused and logical, yet lyrical; I was artsy and creative, but sometimes words failed me, so I chose art to share my feelings instead.
I loved our long, shared dinners on the porch, but I also enjoyed his company at breakfast and during the boring, mindless tasks of everyday life.