“What’s this?”
“A pregnancy test. One line for negative, two lines for positive.”
Two lines.
I frown as I stare at it in my hands.
My eyes rise to meet hers. “But we didn’t start trying yet.”
She smiles softly. “Maybe we did.”
With my heart in my throat, I stare at my beautiful wife.
What?
“You’re going to be a daddy, Jay.” She smiles up at me.
What?
“Are you sure?”
She shrugs and then laughs. “I did two tests.”
I take her into my arms and hold her tight, so tight I nearly break her.
“You’re squashing me.” She laughs against my shoulder. “Ouch.”
“Oh my god.” I put my hand on her stomach. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’ve never done this before, I think so.”
I take her face into my hands and I kiss her. This woman.
This beautiful woman, she came into my life and loved me and saved me from myself.
And now this…
Emotion overwhelms me and I get a lump in my throat as I stare down at her.
I can’t believe it, there are no words to describe what I’m feeling.
So much love.
“Are you still going to love me when I get fat?” She smiles up at me.
I chuckle and take her into my arms and walk her backward toward my desk. “Try and stop me.”
Emily
A text bounces into my phone:
I’m here
I go to the window and look down to the street and see Scott standing to the side of the front doors of the building, the blacked-out SUV Audi parked in the loading zone.
My escort home is here.
True to Jameson Miles’ overprotective style I have been wrapped in cotton wool.
In my first trimester I suffered greatly from morning sickness and one day when I was looking especially green, a photographer was hassling me and I slipped on the pavement and nearly fell over.
Jameson went ballistic, and since that day I have had a personal bodyguard with me whenever we are in New York, which is Monday to Friday.
I hated it at first, and we fought about it often. But now as I’m at the end of my second trimester, I do have to admit I feel safer. Not from murdering killers or anything dramatic like that, the paparazzi are the only ones I need protecting from.
I walk back to my desk and close down my computer and look around my office.
I only have six weeks left at work and I’m a little sad, I’m going to miss my office, I really love my job and the independence it’s given me.
But we’ve decided that we are moving to our house in the country, Arndell, full time once the baby is born, Jameson will work from home two days a week and commute the other three.
We really want the baby to grow up barefoot, climbing trees and playing in the mud.
Hidden away in our own little cocoon of love.
We’ve had some renovations done on the house in preparation for being there full-time, new bathrooms and kitchen, new carpet, and furnishings. Every time we go there we take a little bit more of our personal belongings. The plan is to have both the country house and the penthouse in New York fully equipped so that we can just move between the two without the need to pack bags.
We’re so excited to get there, once the baby is born Jameson has three weeks off for us to settle in as a family.
I can’t wait.
We would move beforehand but my doctor and the hospital are in New York and Jameson couldn’t handle the stress of being two hours away if I go into early labor.
My phone beeps another text.
Are you okay?
Jeez, I text back.
Coming now.
I grab my bag and make my way downstairs; Scott is standing by the double glass doors as he waits for me. “Good afternoon, Emily.”
“Hi, Scott.” I smile as he walks me to the car. “How was your day?” I ask him.
“Great, and yours?” He opens the car door and I glance in to see Jameson sitting in the back seat, navy suit, square jaw and the best come fuck-me-look of all time.
“It just got a lot better.” I smile as I climb in.
“Mrs. Miles.” Jameson smiles, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me softly.
“This is a nice surprise.”
“I thought I’d take you out to dinner.” He kisses me again. “Then you can eat me for dessert.”
I laugh out loud. “You’re a bona fide sex maniac.”
He takes my hand in his and gives me a playful wink.
I’m not even joking, I thought once my pregnancy body set in he would calm down.
He is more obsessed with me now than ever.
We arrive at the restaurant and Scott pulls the car over and gets out and opens the car door, Jameson climbs out first and then helps me out.
“There he is,” we hear as cameras click.
Jameson puts his head down and with my hand in a viselike grip we walk through the circus of paparazzi.
“Back off,” I hear Scott demand from behind us. “Move out of the way.”
We walk into the restaurant and instantly return to earth. It’s calm and serene and piano music is playing in the background. It’s like another world in here, away from the crazy.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Miles.” The waiter smiles. “I have your favorite table waiting, sir.”
“Thank you,” Jameson replies, as we walk through to our table, I see people turning their heads to look our way and I drop my head and smile at the floor, I should be used to it by now, but I’m not, I don’t think I ever will be.
Nothing has changed in New York.
Jameson Miles attracts attention wherever he goes.
He always will.
I wake to the feeling of period pain and I frown and glance at the clock on my bedside table: 2.55 a.m.
What’s happening?
Another pang of ache rolls through me and I wince.
Oww… Okay, that’s…uncomfortable.
I glance over to Jay as he sleeps beside me and I quietly get up and walk downstairs and go to the bathroom. I have this heavy feeling in my stomach and down below, but I’m not due for another ten days.
It must be Braxton-Hicks. Please don’t be in labor, I have shit I need to get done before you arrive, bubba.
I rub my big tummy, it’s a weird feeling, not a pain, more of an ache and now I have heartburn, fuck’s sake.
I feel like shit.
Maybe it was the Indian food we had for dinner.
I sit on the toilet for a while, I feel hot and clammy and ugh, don’t tell me I have a tummy bug.
I eventually get into the shower and lean up against the wall, the hot water feels nice on my skin. I close my eyes; I wish I could sleep standing, I’m so, so, tired.
“Emily?” I hear Jameson’s panicked voice as he comes flying into the bathroom, his eyes are wide. “What’s happening?”
“I’m fine, heartburn.” I wondered how long it would be until he woke up and came looking for me.
He looks down at the floor of the shower. “It doesn’t look like heartburn.”
Huh?
I glance down to see that the water running down the drain is a pretty shade of pink.
“Oh crap.”
“What do you mean oh crap?”
“My waters have broken.”
“Oh…fucking hell… Crap,” he cries. “It’s too early.”