Chapter 10
TINY HUMAN
MAC
Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. Pregnant, pregnant. I look at the five tests on the counter. Five different brands of tests, and they all say the same thing: I’m pregnant.
“Holy shit.” I lean back against the wall, then slide down until my ass hits the floor. I let my legs sprawl out in front of me as I stare at the bathroom door.
“There is a tiny human growing inside of me.” I press the palms of my hands against my stomach and close my eyes. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I don’t know how I’m going to tell Wesley this news.
When I didn’t get my period a week ago, I knew I needed to take a test, but I kept putting it off and putting it off. Libby tossed a test at me this morning before she left for work, reminding me that if I wanted to have a drink tonight, on New Year’s Eve, I needed to make sure I wasn’t pregnant. Guess there will be no drinking for me.
“Mac?” Libby yells through the bathroom door.
I close my eyes. When I took that first one and it came back positive, I went out and got a few more, thinking the first one was a fluke. Apparently it wasn’t—unless there is something wrong with my pee.
“Mac!” Libby calls again.
“Give me a minute!” I shout back.
She doesn’t listen. The pocket door slides open, and she sticks her head into the room and looks around until she finds me sitting on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Just hanging out. It’s a nice room. I’m thinking about moving my bed in here,” I say as she looks at me.
Then she spots all the tests lined up on the counter.
“You’re . . .”
“Pregnant, with a tiny human.” I finish her sentence.
She comes into the room and takes a seat on the toilet, resting her elbows on her knees.
“There is a human person growing inside of me. Like the movie Alien, only it’s not an alien—it’s a baby.”
“You’re going to be a mom!” She cuts off my rambling.
My heart seizes up. “I’m going to be a mom.” I close my eyes, the reality really hitting me. I don’t just have a human growing inside of me; I have a human growing inside of me that is part of me and part of Wesley. Our child. A tear tracks down my cheek, and an unbelievable amount of love fills every single cell in my body. “What if he doesn’t want this?”
“Stop being dumb.” She smacks my upturned knee. “You are his cow, his milk-mate.”
“You seriously need to stop spending so much time with Miss Ina.” I scrub my hands down my face to wipe away the tears that have fallen.
“The news might shock him, but once it settles in, he’s going to be fine. My guess is he’s even going to be a little excited.”
“Why do you say that?” I grab some tissue and wipe under my eyes.
“Because I see the way he looks at you. He’s always watching you like he’s just waiting for something to happen so that he can jump in and save you. It’s the same way Dad looks at Mom and Levi looks at Fawn,” she says.
I really, really hope she’s right.
“This is going to change everything.”
“Yep.” She picks up another test off the counter and looks at it. “You’re pregnant with my niece or nephew! I’m going to be an aunt!”
“A baby.” The idea is so overwhelming and exciting. I’m scared out of my mind, but I also cannot wait. It’s like waiting in line for an amusement park ride—you know it’s going to be scary, but thrilling at the same time.
“I call godmother!” she blurts.
I pull my eyes off my stomach to look at her.
“You can’t ‘call’ godmother. It’s not the front seat of a car; it’s my child.”
“So who are you going to pick, then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Wesley will want to choose someone.”
“Fine. I’m going to tell him that I call godmother,” she mutters.
I roll my eyes at her.
“How are you going to tell him the news?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should just wait until after I see the doctor. What if the tests are wrong?”
“I don’t think five tests could be wrong, so I don’t think you need to worry about that. But if you think you need to wait a little before telling him, I get that. I just wouldn’t wait too long. You don’t want it to turn into you keeping the news from him. If he finds out that you’ve known for a long time and not told him, that’s how he’s going to feel. Like you were hiding it from him.”
“You’re right. I’ll tell him tomorrow,” I say, then shake my head. “Or after the weekend.”
I need more time to process, and I do want to see a doctor before I tell him, just to be sure.
“Mom is going to freak. She was excited about Fawn getting married, and now you have just blown that news out of the water. The only way this could be any better is if you’re pregnant with twins.”
“Shut up.” The idea alone makes me panic. I’ve barely wrapped my head around the idea of one baby—I don’t know what I would do with two.
“Just reminding you that they do run in our family . . .”
She grins, and I smack her knee.
“You are so evil!” I laugh, and she stands and then helps me up.
“Come on. I want to show you the dress I got for you.”
“Is it anything like our Halloween dresses from a few months ago?” I ask.
She grins. “No, and I didn’t pick those out. You did.”
“I know.”
I shake my head at the reminder of how stupid I was. On Halloween, I decided that I would once and for all get Edward—aka Sir Dick the Cheater—to notice me by dressing up with my sisters for a Halloween party at Jack’s. We went as prostitutes, and that was where things started to go downhill. Our coats got stolen, the second thing that happened, then what topped it all off was getting stopped by the police because they thought we were really prostitutes.
“Are you ready?” Libby asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I blink. Seeing the navy-blue, floor-length, V-neck lace dress lying across the bed, I gasp. It’s perfect, so perfect. Wesley is going to freak out when he sees me in it. Most officers are working tonight, but Wesley got off so that he could attend a New Year’s Eve charity ball with me. Jack’s hosts it every year. The money raised tonight will be donated to a children’s baseball charity that Jack’s runs to provide inner-city kids with training, uniforms, and travel expenses. I love it, and I love the cause.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, running my hand down the soft material.
“Duh.” Libby nudges my shoulder. “I’m good at what I do.”
“You really are good. Thank you so much for this.”
“You know, it’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal.”
A couple of years ago, Libby started up a little side business. She basically rents out items from other people’s closets. Things that can be worn only once by the owner, like the dress on the bed. The person renting the item puts down a large deposit before receiving the dress, then after she wears it, she returns it to Libby, who has the item cleaned and returns it to its original owner, like new. I haven’t asked her how much she’s made so far, but I know that she’s been somewhat successful with her new venture.
“I say we do your hair up and to the side. Your makeup needs to be dramatic.”
“You can do whatever you want,” I tell her.
She raises a brow at me. “Anything?”
“Anything.” I wiggle my brows back.
“You never let me do whatever I want.”
“Well, tonight is your night. My only stipulation is that you make me look beautiful.”
“I don’t need to make you beautiful. You already are beautiful.”
My face softens.
“I’m just going to make you look like a sex goddess.”
I smile when she says this. “This sex goddess needs a shower first.” I walk past her toward the bathroom, asking, “So what are your plans for the night?”
“I told Antonio I would come in and help him out since it’s New Year’s Eve. I will most likely ring in the new year covered in flour and smelling like pizza.”
“Have things been better between you two?”
“We don’t really talk. He grunts at me every once in a while, but for the most part we don’t speak,” she says, sounding disappointed.
I tip my head to the side to study her.
“You like him,” I say.
She shrugs. “A little, but it doesn’t matter. He will never see me as anything more than a pretty face, and I will probably always think he’s a Neanderthal.”
“But—”
“No.” She cuts me off before I can convince her that maybe she’s wrong. “Go shower before I change my mind about doing your hair and makeup.” She shoves me back toward the bathroom, then closes the door, leaving me no choice but to drop it.
“Holy shit.”
The look in Wesley’s eyes when I open the door lets me know that the last few hours of torture have been so worth it. After showering, and shaving everything, Libby spent an ungodly amount of time blowing out my hair. Then she spent an even longer amount of time curling it before putting it in a crazy updo that is being held together by at least a thousand bobby pins. If there is a metal detector at the door tonight, I know I will set it off. After she finally finished my hair, she did my makeup similar to the way she did it the night Wesley and I met—smoky and mysterious. The makeup and hair both look amazing, but the dress . . . the dress is everything. The dark blue looks fabulous with my red hair and fair skin, and the cut is beyond sophisticated and sexy. I look classy and hot, if I do say so myself.
“Holy shit.”
“You said that already.” I smile.
His eyes travel from my feet back up to my cleavage. They pause there for a moment before he meets my gaze once more.
His eyes are so dark with desire that my breath catches.
“Holy shit,” he repeats again.
I laugh.
“Gorgeous. You look . . .”
“She looks like a sex goddess,” Libby says from my side.
Wesley looks at her, nodding and adjusting the tie around his neck.
“She does,” he agrees. His eyes come back to me. “I don’t know whether to show you off or hide you away.” He wraps his hand around my hip and brings himself closer to me. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I tip my chin back to accept his kiss, then take hold of the lapels of his tux. “You look handsome. So very, very handsome.”
“Okay, you both look great. As much as I want to stand here and watch the love fest you have going on, I need to leave, so you are going to have to stop blocking the door.” Libby breaks into our moment.
I laugh, turning to watch her put on her jacket.
That’s when I notice her feet. “What the hell are those?” I point to the Converse sneakers she has on.
“They’re called shoes.” She rolls her eyes.
I feel my own eyes widen. “I know that, but you don’t wear sneakers. What the hell is going on?”
“Okay, drama llama, it’s not a big deal. I need to wear sneakers since I’m going to be on my feet running around, answering phones, and waiting tables all night.” She kisses my cheek, then Wesley’s. “Have fun tonight!” she calls over her shoulder as she heads down the steps.
I watch her until she is out of sight.
“She never wears sneakers,” I say out loud to myself.
“She’s gonna be busy. She wants to be comfortable,” Wesley says, walking me backward into my apartment. When he shuts the door, I snap out of my thoughts and blink at him.
“What are you doing?” I step away from him, but he steps closer again. “We have to go or we are going to be late.”
“We won’t be late.”
“If you touch me, we will be late.” I sidestep him, then grab my coat and slip it on. I tie the belt as tight as I possibly can and hold the ends so he can’t rip it open.
“Just one little touch.”
“You can touch me later.” I grin at the pout he gives me. He looks like a little kid who’s just been told he’s not allowed to have more candy. “Come on.” I take his hand to lead him out of the apartment but squeak as he picks me up, bride-style. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you so that you don’t break your neck on the way down the stairs. I want to be able to touch you tonight, and that will be impossible if you’re in a full-body cast.”
“Very funny.” I tap his cheek after he sets me on my feet on the sidewalk outside. A cab is waiting for us. After helping me into the back and getting in with me, he gives the driver directions to our venue. Since it’s New Year’s Eve and there are so many roads blocked off, it takes a lot longer than normal to make it across the city.
Once we arrive at the event space, I take in its beauty. Cipriani’s limestone architecture blends in with the rest of the buildings across from Grand Central. But what’s inside makes it one of the most sought-after places for parties in the city. Jack and Vivian, the owners of Jack’s, grew up with the owner of Cipriani’s children, so every year they allow Jake to use the space for next to nothing when I’m sure it would normally cost tens of thousands of dollars for New Year’s. Once we get inside, we stop at the coatroom and then make our way to the main room. Every year when I come here, the ballroom makes me want to take a trip to Rome to see the architecture there firsthand. I’m so in love with the marble columns that stretch up and up to the cathedral ceilings. The room screams elegance.
“Do you know where we’re sitting?” Wesley asks as we move through the crowded room with my hand tucked in the crook of his arm.
“Elizabeth told me last night that I’m sitting with her and Tex,” I tell him, looking around for my friends. I met Tex and Elizabeth at Jack’s. We bonded over our mutual love for the Mets and have been friends ever since.
“Do you see them?”
“No.” I shake my head, scanning the room.
When I finally see them in the back, at a round table, my stomach turns. Tex and Elizabeth are sitting at a six-top table with Edward and Bonnie and two empty chairs. If the two chairs are really ours, I’ll have to sit across from Bonnie the entire night without blurting out anything about Edward being a cheater. I need a drink—not that I can have one, but I need one. Then again, it’s probably best that I can’t drink because when I do drink, I tend to talk a lot. “I found our table,” I tell Wesley, and I feel him tense when he sees where my eyes are pointing and who we will be sitting with.
“Are you going to be okay sitting at a table with him?” he asks, moving his hand to my lower back, then sliding it around to my hip so he can hold me closer.
“I think so, but I think we should make up a safe word,” I whisper, looking up at him.
“A safe word?” He raises a brow. “What do you know about safe words?”
“Not much more than is explained in Fifty Shades of Grey,” I admit.
His eyes change ever so slightly.
“You read those books?” he asks quietly, turning me to face him.
I look around, realizing that we are standing in the middle of the dance floor and that there are people all around us dancing.
“Yes.” I shrug as his fingers dig into my hips.
“Well, things in the bedroom are about to become a little more interesting,” he mutters.
My stomach does a flip, but I ignore it. I need to concentrate on what’s happening right now. I can’t let him sidetrack me.
“Focus.” I smack my hands flat against his chest. “We need a safe word so if I start to feel like I can’t keep it together any longer, if I can’t keep myself from blurting out to Bonnie about Edward, I say the safe word and you get me out of there—pronto.” I snap my fingers.
“Okay, what’s the safe word?”
“I don’t know . . .” I look around. “How about octopus?”
“So you’re randomly going to blurt out octopus?” He raises one brow.
“When you say it like that, it sounds like a stupid idea.” I sigh, and he laughs.
“How about you just say, ‘I love this song, dance with me’?”
Tipping my head to the side, I study him, then ask, “Do you know how to dance?”
“Maybe.” He kisses my nose. “You’ll find out if we need to make an escape.”
“Fine.” I pull in a breath, then let it out. “I really hate the idea of sitting across from her and breaking bread knowing that her man is a dick.”
“You’re not Mafia, so you’re not ‘breaking bread’ with her; you’re sitting at a table with her at a charity event.”
“Tomato, tomahto.” I wave him off, and he smiles, then dips his head, kissing me.
“It will be fine. Now come on, I’m hungry.” He puts my hand back in the crook of his arm before leading me across the room toward our table. We stop a few times to say hi to people I know so I can introduce Wesley to them.
When we make it to the table, Edward gets up and comes around the table to hug me. I feel Wesley tense up.
“You look amazing,” Edward says against my ear before Wesley pulls me away from him. Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, I turn toward Tex and Elizabeth.
“Hey, guys.”
I greet them both with a hug, then introduce them to Wesley, whom they haven’t met until today. While Wesley is busy talking with Tex, I turn to Bonnie.
“How are you?” I greet her with a smile and a hug.
She hugs me back and replies, “I’ve been good.”
“Great.” I take a step away from her. “I love your dress.”
“Thank you.” She runs her hands down the silky black material at her sides and hips. She really does look beautiful. It accents her long, dark-blonde hair perfectly, and her California tan makes her big blue eyes stand out.
“Elizabeth, seriously, you look amazing, too,” I say to my friend.
Then I look up at Tex, who towers over her by at least a foot. “That dress shows off her long legs, and the red is beautiful on her. How hard was it for you to let her out of the house?”
“Hard.” He grins. Tex and Elizabeth met on an airplane going to London from JFK. When they arrived in London, they spent a week together. When they came back to the States, Tex moved from Texas to New York to be with her, and they’ve been together ever since. And now they are working on Tex’s football team—they’ve got three boys already, and a few weeks ago, Elizabeth told me that she’s pregnant again. She keeps trying for a girl—and Tex just keeps trying because he secretly loves Elizabeth pregnant.
“Here, gorgeous.” Wesley pulls out a chair for me, and I take a seat, then rest my hand on my own flat stomach. “You have that look I hate,” he says close to my ear.
I turn to look at him. “What look?”
His fingers touch my chin, then run across my jaw. “The one that says you’re about to run on me.”
“I’m not going to run.” I take his hand off my chin and twine our fingers together. “I promise.”
“You better not.”
“I won’t.” I smile and he leans in, kissing me softly.
Sitting back, I take a breath to steady myself. Bonnie’s ring catches my attention, and I can’t help but admire it again. It’s beautiful, with one large, center diamond that’s somewhat elevated above the rest of the stones that drip down the band.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Bonnie asks, holding it up.
I meet her gaze and nod, giving her a smile.
“It’s really beautiful. He did a good job.”
“I know.” She turns her hand from side to side. “It’s a little small, but Edward promised that when he makes his first million, he’ll get me a new one.”
“Oh . . .” I try not to frown.
Edward shifts like he’s uncomfortable. Not that I can blame him. His fiancée just said that the ring he gave her isn’t good enough. Maybe they deserve each other.
“So, Wesley, tell us a little about yourself. What do you do for a living?” Edward cuts in to break the awkward moment.
“I’m a detective with the NYPD,” Wesley answers, sitting back and undoing the button on his tux jacket.
“He actually works with Fawn’s fiancé, Levi,” I explain, covering his hand with mine on the top of the table.
“Is that how you two met?” Elizabeth asks.
I feel a blush spread up my neck and cheeks.
“No, we actually met before we knew about that connection,” I say.
She squints her eyes at me, and I shift uncomfortably.
“It seems like there is a story there. You need to come over for wine so you can fill me in on all the dirty details,” Elizabeth says.
I smile at her. “I know! Plus, I need to see the boys—I haven’t seen them in ages.”
“We’ll make a date.”
“Gorgeous, dance with me.” Wesley cuts into the conversation and stands suddenly. I tip my head back to look at him and instantly register the look on his face.
“We’ll be back.” I smile at everyone at the table as he pulls out my chair, then let him lead me out to the dance floor. I smile at the other couples, then rest both my hands against his chest and look up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Besides Edward looking at your tits every five seconds, that chick tried to feel me up under the table.”
“What?” I shout, stopping in place. Looking around his shoulder and back toward the table, I narrow my eyes at Bonnie when our gaze locks.
Forcing me to move along with him, he holds me tighter. “The first time it happened, I thought it was an accident. Then it happened again.”
“That’s . . . that’s . . . I don’t know what that is. Rude just doesn’t cover it.”
I look over at the table again. Both Edward and Bonnie are looking at us, but Tex and Elizabeth are busy making googley-eyes at each other. Glaring at Bonnie, I see her frown before Wesley forces me to look at him.
“I can’t believe that she would hit on you when I’m sitting right there.”
“Don’t think about it.” He wraps his hand around my jaw, then lowers his mouth to mine. The kiss is soft and sweet, and it does exactly what I need it to—forget about everyone around us. When he pulls his mouth from mine, I smile. “Better?”
“Yes.” I rest my temple to his shoulder. “I didn’t know you knew how to dance.”
“This isn’t dancing; this is swaying. The moment they put on dance music, you’ll see my moves.”
“I can’t wait.” I laugh and close my eyes, swaying with him until it’s announced that dinner is being served.
We go back to the table. Thankfully, Bonnie keeps her hands to herself, and the rest of the dinner goes by without incident. After dinner, we spend most of the night on the dance floor, where Wesley proves that he’s not a liar. He can dance—and well.
Getting into the back of the cab a few hours later, I’m all danced out. I can’t stop smiling.
“Did you have a good night, gorgeous?” Wesley asks after shutting the door.
“Yes, and I learned something new about you,” I say as the cab pulls away from the curb and into traffic. “You are really good at dancing. If they ever have a Dancing with the Stars NYPD edition, I think you should try out.”
I yawn, and he laughs and kisses the top of my head.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you tired?”
“Very.” I yawn again. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, and I snuggle into his side.
Suddenly, the cab is jolted forward, and my body is tossed against the partition that separates us from the driver. My head and knees hit it hard. Wesley’s arm wraps around my waist, but a second impact comes, even worse than the first. He’s unable to keep me in his grasp as the car is jolted again. Glass rains down around us from my window as it shatters. Grabbing my head, I feel wetness on my fingertips.
“Are you okay?” His eyes scan me, and I nod my head.
“I think so. But . . .”
“Fuck.” He looks around, then settles me back against the seat. “Do not move.” He opens his door and gets out. My knees ache and my head is pounding, but with all that, my biggest concern right now is our baby.
Our baby that Wesley doesn’t know about.
“Wesley!” I call his name as he reaches into the backseat for me.
Helping me out, he looks me over once more, then inspects my forehead and the wound that is causing blood to run down my face and onto my chest and dress. Libby is going to kill me.
“Hold on, gorgeous. I want to get you safely across the street. Okay?” I shake my head no. “I promise it will be okay. I know you’re bleeding, but it’s just a small scrape. I promise, it’s small.” He picks me up and moves quickly through the cars that are now piled up in the middle of the road.
“Wesley . . .”
“Here you are.” He heads toward a bench at an empty bus stop, then helps me sit.
From my new vantage point, I can see the full scene of the accident. Two cars hit our cab—one in the back and one on the side. The yellow cab is not just wrecked, it’s totaled.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back. Don’t move. Just keep pressure on your head,” he says, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders.
“Wesley!” I repeat once more as he puts his cell phone to his ear.
“I’ll be right back.” He kisses my forehead, then stands.
Completely frustrated with him, I shout, “I’m pregnant!”
Even being in the middle of a busy intersection with police sirens off in the distance blaring as they race toward us, and people who have stopped on the sidewalks to take in the accident—even with all that, I know that if I had a pin to drop, I would have heard it. It was like the air went still, and all the people froze just like in those superhero movies when everything stops, even the bullets in midair.
Then time returns to normal and chaos ensues.
“Get a fucking ambulance, and get it here right fucking now!” Wesley shouts to whomever he’s talking to on the phone; then he drops to his knees in front of me. “Are you okay? Are you hurting? Are you in any pain?”
“No pain, but what if the accident shook the baby loose?” I say, knowing rationally that that is ridiculous and impossible.
“I don’t think that’s possible, but when the ambulance gets here, I will have them check to make sure that didn’t happen.”
“Good.” I pull in a sharp breath when his large palm reaches under my coat and covers my stomach.
“You’re pregnant.” It’s not a question; I know he’s just asking me to confirm what I just told him.
“Yes.”
“With my baby . . . ,” he says.
I narrow my eyes on his. “That better be a joke, because if it’s not, I swear the moment I know I’m okay I’m going to kick your ass all over New York City.”
“Gorgeous, shut up and kiss me,” he demands.
So of course I do.