31. Chapter Thirty-One ~ Chris
Chapter Thirty-One ~ Chris
This is it.
I’ve already decided that things need to change.
Because I’m not happy with the way things are anymore.
Not content with letting it all go on the way that it has.
Not okay with just hoping that things are going to be another way or that Emma is going to open up about what she feels.
It’s time that I do it first.
“Come to dinner with me tomorrow night.”
She spins around, startled, from where she’s been gathering up a tray of drinks. Her stomach is quite large now and we’ve had to get an entirely new costume to help her feel more comfortable in it. And by her choice she sticks more to the bar, gathering the drinks for the other girls who take them around to the tables.
“I didn’t even hear you come over here,” she says instead of answering but I’m not having that.
“Come to dinner with me tomorrow night,” I repeat instead, and she laughs and shakes her head. But it’s not a no. It’s a wry gesture, like she can’t believe I’m doing this here.
“All right, tomorrow night.”
This time she doesn’t joke about me being the boss and I wonder if that’s because we’re actually at work now. But she hasn’t refused to go so it doesn’t really matter to me. I want this to be perfect. Everything has to be perfect. And that means making some big plans.
So when Emma turns back to her work I head upstairs to make a phone call. One that I think is going to help me make this date the best one that we’ve had yet.
And then I’m slipping out of the office for a little while, so I can make sure everything is set up for tomorrow evening.
When the time comes for our date I change into dress pants and a button-up shirt and enter the foyer to find her wearing a cute sundress that just barely shows off the bump of her stomach. Something that makes me like it even more.
Oh yes, seeing her stomach grow as she gets further and further along is definitely going to be amazing for me. And seeing the smile on her face as I walk into the room is even more amazing, because it makes me think that maybe things really are progressing the way I want.
“You look great,” I tell her and she beams even brighter, allowing me to take her arm and drag her to me for a kiss before I quickly take her out to the car. Because if we don’t move quickly, I’ll end up taking her upstairs instead and we won’t get to go out at all.
“Where are we going?” she asks and I simply smile, because I don’t want to give away anything.
She seems pleased when she sees the restaurant, which isn’t much of a surprise because I asked her mother where she liked to go. And her mother said that when they would go out for a special occasion Emma always chose Watson’s. The pasta place was her favorite out of everything in town.
“I wouldn’t think you’d have heard of this place,” she says, glancing around with a soft smile that makes my heart clench in my chest.
“I asked for some pointers,” I admit and she looks up with an even brighter grin.
“You’ve been talking to my mother.”
“Perhaps a little,” I agree, unable to refrain from smiling.
But as the meal progresses and everything seems to be falling into place, I can’t help but feel even more at ease. And even more excited for more nights like this, that I’m sure are going to continue coming.
“This has been wonderful,” she says as we leave the restaurant but I slip an arm around her shoulders and lead her down the street toward the theater.
“We’re not done yet.”
“No?”
“No,” I reply and we stride into the old building with its European décor. She’s staring around at it with such a gorgeous smile that I wish I had thought of this before. But I’ve thought of it now and I’ll do this as many times as I want from now on.
“Where are we going? I don’t think there’s anything on right now.”
“There is for us,” is all I say and she gives me a confused look but follows me into the main theater.
We’re the only ones here, but that’s not a problem. And when the theater starts to darken slightly she looks startled but allows me to lead her to the best seats in the very center of the theater. We can see the screen easily from here. And hear absolutely everything to the best effect.
“Is this Indestructible?”
“Your sister may have said that it’s your favorite.”
And again there’s that beaming smile. But she turns quickly back toward the screen, watching with rapt delight as her favorite movie plays on the screen.
Halfway through, her head leans against my shoulder, her hand resting on my knee and I can’t imagine anything being more perfect than this. And soon we’ll have a baby.
My eyes drift to her stomach, what I can see of it in this dim lighting. And I think about how much everything is going to change when the baby comes. How much … I can’t wait for it to change.
This woman, who I never really intended to feel anything for, has absolutely stolen my heart. And now I can’t imagine being without her. Luckily, I don’t have to. Because she’s here. Right here. With me. For the long haul. But is she in it for the same reasons I am? Or just because the baby is binding us together? And the contract?
The thought is sobering, but there’s something so infectious about her soft smile as she stares at the screen, oblivious to the turmoil in my head that I can’t turn off. And all I can do is hope that she sees things the way that I do. And that she’s just as interested in continuing what’s happening between us as I am.
“Now we must have reached the end of our evening,” she says when the movie is over and I smile back.
“Do you think so? Maybe I have more up my sleeve.”
“And what could that possibly be? We’ve already had dinner and a private showing. I can’t imagine anything else making this night better.”
“No? Nothing at all?” I murmur, leaning in close, my hand moving to the back of her head to pull her gently toward me. My lips are barely a breath away, hovering, waiting and I can feel as well as hear her soft sigh.
“Well, perhaps there is something,” she replies and then her mouth is on mine and I’m lost in the taste of her and the feel of her.
It takes me a moment to remember that this is not where I want the evening to go.
Or rather, it is but not just at this moment.
I have a different plan in mind.
So I lead her up the aisle and out the door, but not to my car.
Instead, I lead her toward the water, which seems to surprise her. But she accepts it and follows along easily enough, smiling out at the waves even though I know the breeze is a little much for her dress.
“It’s beautiful out here.”
“You’re even more beautiful,” I reply and even though I know it sounds like a line I can’t help the words, because they’re true.
She turns toward me with a grin that says she’s intending to admonish me, but then sees that I’m down on one knee and her eyes widen, her mouth dropping open in surprise.
“Emma Randolph, will you do me the honor of being my wife? Not just the mother of my child, but my partner in all ways?”
“Oh, Chris-“ she begins and then her face scrunches in pain and confusion. Her hands move to her stomach and she sucks in a deep breath.
“Emma? Are you all right?”
I stand quickly, my hand moving to the side of her face and she gives a sharp nod, but then her body shudders again.
“I … I think it’s the baby. I think it’s time, Chris.”
Instantly I spring into action, because I’ve had a plan for this for a while. Which is good because it’s all happening on autopilot right now.
My mind feels entirely blank even as I’m guiding her quickly to the car and making sure we’re both buckled in before driving toward the hospital in a rush.
Some part of me knows that she’s calling her mother, her sister, and the doctor, but the main part of me is simply trying to get to the hospital and to reconcile that we’re going to have a baby.
Soon.
By the time we actually make it to the hospital I’m still in a state of shock. Still wondering just what I’m supposed to do because even as I’m moving it feels like someone else is doing everything. Like someone else is helping her out of the car and holding her hand.
Someone else is leading her in and telling the woman behind the desk that my girlfriend is having a baby.
Girlfriend? Fiancé? I don’t know because she never answered me.
But that’s not important now. What’s important is that Emma is in labor and she’s being helped into a wheelchair then quickly wheeled down the hall with me racing along behind.
And then we’re in a room. A private room on the top floor of the hospital, waiting for something to happen.
Or rather, for something more to happen, because as I sit beside her, Emma continues to flinch with each contraction. Her face tightens. Her lips press together to hold back whatever sounds she’d really like to make.
Judging by the look on her face it would be a pretty pained sound and I take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
When the next contraction comes, her hand tightens on mine and my eyes widen in surprise. But I’m not about to tell her to stop. The pain she’s going through … it’s got to be awful, but she’s bearing it well.
“Emma, Sweetheart, it’s okay to cry,” I murmur, turning so I can brush my other hand over the side of her face. “Do you need anything? Water? Ice?”
She shakes her head fiercely and then her hand tightens on mine again.
I’m not an expert, but I’m fairly certain that the time between is getting shorter. A lot shorter. And her expression, not to mention the pressure on my hand, is getting tighter.
“All right, Ms. Randolph, I think it’s about time,” the doctor says, walking in, and Emma tries to smile at the woman, failing miserably.
But why she thinks she needs to smile at a time like this is beyond me. All I can think about is how she must be feeling, and I have no idea the answer to that question.
I have no idea of anything. And much as I keep trying to force myself to focus and to do … something … I have no idea what to do.
Other than attempting to soothe her, it’s not like there’s anything I can do.
“Emma!” Her mother rushes in just as the doctor is getting everything ready, a very anxious Leann right behind her.
“Is everyone staying for the baby? Because we’re having a baby here,” the doctor announces and Emma’s mom takes up the position directly beside her, taking her other hand.
Leann glances around at everyone and then steps up behind her mother, standing at her shoulder and brushing her hand over Emma’s hair, gentle as ever.
And that’s it. The four of us sitting there together, while the doctor gets ready to deliver our baby.