KATE
Weston’s excitement is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in the longest time. I just want to spend all day together in bed with him and ignore all my adult responsibilities. There have been so many emotions running throughout the both of us and we just need a breather, but unfortunately my rehearsal schedule doesn’t permit us one. He’s such a trooper about it too, always working around shows and tour dates.
I love the pieces out of that huge dork.
“Really, my love. I can totally drive myself, you know?”
“Not a chance, babe.”
I can’t help the sigh that escapes my lips; it’s my own damned fault. My car is so badly damaged there’s not any hope it’ll be reparable. When Weston saw it, he kept me in such close proximity I could barely take a pee in privacy. He even stood outside the bathroom door. It was pretty ridiculous, but he wouldn’t budge.
I love him and his overbearing need to protect me and take care of me. At times, it can be a little more than I can take but, as frustrating as it can get, I know he only wants what’s best for me.
We haven’t really talked about the baby, but it’s coming; I don’t have to be a fortune teller to know that. I’m afraid of what’s to come and I have a feeling that Weston can sense this in me. He seems so free spirited, though, and while it makes my heart full to see it, I’m beyond terrified something will go wrong as the pregnancy progresses.
How can I bond with this baby when all I hold inside is fear? Fear of the unknown, fear of my body betraying me—nothing put pure infinite fear.
I couldn’t live through losing this baby after everything. I know it’s bad to get my hopes up, but I’m putting so much into this. This could be my chance to finally have everything I’ve wanted since I met the man who changed me for the better. My chance to finally have what I’d destroyed all those years ago without a second thought.
“Fucking breathe, baby.” I look up at him and giggle, loving his newfound need to help ease even the tiniest of my worries. Ever since he’d found out about my past, his need to be super vigilant with me has gotten way more intense.
I take in our surroundings, noticing our car is parked and turned completely off. Sometime while I was lost in my train of thought, we’d pulled up outside the dance studio.
I devour him with my eyes, loving how his eyes hood over as he stares intently at my mouth, ready to pounce. The rest of the world melts away as he pulls me into his lap with my legs straddling his hips. His lips greedily claim mine. My eyes close and I feel everything- our emotions crashing against each other, the feel of his hand on my lower back further pushing me into him as our bodies completely come together as one. I swear, a part of me even believes I can feel the thumping of his heart against mine.
My hands tangle in his long hair and I moan into his mouth, needing more, craving more.
“Fuck.” He mumbles, his lips inches from mine. I bite his bottom lip softly, pulling him back to me, needing to close all space between us. “Babe, you have rehearsal to get to.”
“No.” I glare at him, not ready to move from his lap. I’m more than content right here.
“Katie.” His eyes look pained and I can feel my resolve crumbling against the need to listen to him. It’s rare when I’m not pushing him but right now, I can see that he needs me to not be so belligerent and to just go. “We have the rest of our lives, okay?”
I nod, his lips brushing my forehead gently. “Take care of our baby, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.”
“Okay.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him to me tightly. I bury my face into the crook of his neck and strands of his silky hair while his arms circle my waist. “I love you.”
“I know,” he says, and I can’t help but smile.
~*~
“Again.” My dance choreographer yells and I take a deep breath before pushing off into my . I stumble a moment and silently curse my newfound dizziness, never once letting up or stopping.
Normally, performing 95 fouettés isn’t hard. Well, it is, but normally I’m able to do more than that with complete ease. As a professional dancer, you just do what the instructors tell you. Your body is being pushed to the breaking point, but you don’t get any say in what happens to it.
I chose this life and this profession. I want the glamour that being a ballerina gives me, but that’s not to say it doesn’t have its challenges.
I’m on a very strict diet. I’ve worked my body to the actual point of blood, sweat and tears. It sounds cliché, but it’s true. I’ve pulled muscles and sprained toes as I’ve conditioned my body to be the finely tuned machine that’s needed to perform properly in this line of work.
Every aspect of my life is structured; that is, except Weston. Weston is the piece of my life- past, present and future- that doesn’t quite fit into the mold of what I’ve chosen. He’s my rock, the one I turn to when I feel as if I can’t possibly find the strength within me to continue anymore. When I think I’ve performed like shit after a major performance or when I’m recovering from an injury, he’s there.
My knight in shining armor and a beard.
“Stop.”
I pause, knowing that my practice today has been terrible. I’m not performing at 100%; I’m off my game and as one of the principles, I can feel the disappointment rolling off my superiors in waves. I sigh, waiting for the blow that I know is bound to come.
“Once more. Try getting it right this time.”
I push off, hearing the whipping noise that comes with this particular move. I take deep steady breaths, pushing all worries about any imperfections away. My leg goes from passé to a la seconde and then back again to passé. I keep reminding myself to repeat this one process perfectly, I can get through this. Don’t get lightheaded and don’t let the dizziness win.
I briefly hear the choreographer counting, “55, 56”, but I let the words fade off into the air. Breathing, focusing, thinking about my next move before I make it. I keep my core tight, chest out and my hips down.
I got this.
“68, 69, 70,” The air flows through some stray strands of my hair and my legs feel as if they’re getting weaker, but I don’t let up, knowing that I’m so close. “94, 95, 96, 97,” I come to a stop, feeling an immense need to collapse on the floor, but I fight it. I feel the eyes of the other dancers watching me like a hawk, waiting for me to make a mistake that’ll benefit them. This industry is cutthroat.
“Finally. Do it like that next time. You’re good to go.”
I smile out of politeness, then walk down the steps with my legs feeling like jelly. I have my dance bag hanging over my shoulder as I walk from the auditorium taking deep breaths.
“What did I tell you about taking it easy today?”
I jump and spin around before coming face to face with my handsome, scruffy, delicious man meat of a fiancé.
“Yeah, well, you try telling Jean Luc Pernaud that one of his top dancers can’t complete her measly routine.” I glare at him, although he doesn’t seem fazed. I’m sure after all the years we’ve spent together, my irritation towards him never crosses his radar anymore.
“Measly? You were spinning like a trillion times, babe.”
“No. Not a trillion, just like 90ish times or so. Don’t be dramatic, love.”
“And how many times did you repeat that section?”
I roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders. “Oh, maybe like two or three times.”
“Kate.” He warns.
“Okay, five times. Happy?” Our fingers lock together and we walk down the hallway, one step closer to the car where I can sit on my ass and not have to move for a little while. My body feels utterly exhausted and not in a good way.
“No, I’m not happy.” He pauses, looking me up and down. His green eyes linger on my stomach and I hold back the smile tugging on my lips.
“Weston Cahill, did you just body check me?” I cock my hip, my hands resting on my slim waist.
“You bet your fine ass, I did.”
I wink at him as he scoops me up, cradling me like a small child.
“How did you know I didn’t feel like walking?” I rest my head against his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his muscled arms.
“I didn’t. I do know you overworked yourself and I don’t want you doing any unnecessary work, even if it’s as simple as walking to the car.”
“Oh, my hero.” I sigh dramatically, tilting my head back and resting the back of my hand against my forehead. His chuckle vibrates right into me and I can only kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
~*~
“Can we talk about the elephant in the room now?” Weston pulls a slice of pizza from the box and dangles it in front of my face, knowing that I’m not supposed to be eating it because it’s full of grease and calories.
The smell is too much and I’m salivating at just the mere thought of the gooey cheese, extra pizza sauce and garlic crust.
“You’re killing me.” I whine, swinging a throw pillow and hitting him upside the head. He just smiles and takes a big bite while I groan and fork a bite of lettuce into my mouth. It tastes bland and gross. I’m not satisfied.
“We need to talk about this, Katie Kat.” I look up at him through my eyelashes, my sigh blowing strands of hair out of my face.
“Oh-kay.” I mumble, biting my lip, mentally preparing myself for this conversation to break ground.
WESTON
She doesn’t look happy, but she doesn’t look surprised or pissed either. If I’m betting, I’d say that Kate knew we needed to talk. She’s far more perceptive than she likes to let on. I know she doesn’t want to discuss this, but we need to.
“How are you feeling?” She looks at me and I get this possessive urge to hold her and love on her; however, I refuse to close the distance until we’ve laid everything out on the table. When we start getting physical right off the bat, all hope of conversation gets tossed onto the floor along with the remnants our clothes.
“Aside from some minor dizziness, I still feel like me.”
“We’ll come back to the dizziness topic later, but I meant, how are you feeling about being pregnant?”
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, her only nervous tick that I find absolutely adorable. “Honestly, Weston? I’m terrified. I wasn’t expecting to ever be able to get pregnant again. I feel as if I don’t deserve another chance to right the wrong I did. I still don’t feel as if I deserve this baby or a chance to be a mother.”
“I understand, babe. Trust me, I do.” I watch her try to remain strong, holding back tears that threaten to spring free, but she doesn’t let them. “We haven’t even gotten married yet and I wasn’t expecting a baby at this point either. But we still got here, it’s happening Kate, whether we’re on board or not. We’re going to be parents.”
“Are you happy about it?” she asks me quietly, her eyes firmly on mine.
“I’m fucking ecstatic. You’re growing a part of us inside you, babe. Our love has created that child and, while it wasn’t expected, under the circumstances, I’d say this baby is our miracle. Wouldn’t you?”
The tears start to trickle down and I brush them away gently with the pad of my thumb. Kate doesn’t seem sad, though. I’d say she almost looks hopeful, her big blue almond-shaped eyes bright and twinkling.
“I like seeing you like this.” She whispers. “So happy over this. It was something I always dreamed of seeing, but was so sure would never happen.”
I know I wanted to get this out in the open, but I can’t bear to see her struggling on the other side of the bed by herself. I pull her into my arms, creating a blanket of comfort. I rub my fingers through her hair, feeling her calm instantly.
“We can’t think about the what-if’s, my little dancer. If we focus on all the things that could go wrong, time will pass us by and we’ll miss all the things we could’ve enjoyed.”
“Like what? Me getting fat? Yeah, I’m not going to be enjoying that.”
I chuckle at her spunky spirit, the very same one that drew me to her in the first place all those years ago when we were still basically babies ourselves.
It was a sunny, humid day and I was standing on a pier overlooking the ocean, trying to decide which college I wanted to choose. I’d been offered scholarships by two different Ivy Leagues for my high academic grades and was torn between them for very different reasons. When I looked down, I saw her walking along the shore below. She was in shorts and a bikini top. And while I thought she was beautiful, it was her hair billowing in the breeze and the excitement she got when bending down and petting a small puppy that drew me to her. Her smile was like nothing I’d seen before. It was captivating and genuine. The way she carried herself was graceful, an ability many girls our age hadn’t possessed.
I had to work up the nerve to talk to her and once I did, the rest was history. We’d spent the summer together and slowly fell in love. It was Kate that was my deciding factor in choosing the school I chose, because it gave me the excuse I needed to be close to her.
Even as a horny 18-year-old boy, I knew we were going to last and look at us now. Years later with a beautiful life, engaged and with a baby on the way, I couldn’t envision anything more idyllic.
“If I’m being honest, I’m looking forward to you getting fat. You’re far too thin, Katie Kat.” She scoffs at my words but doesn’t speak. “How about we promise each other something? Let’s stay optimistic and just enjoy our time together, not focusing on what could go wrong, but instead enjoying the rest of the time we have left with just the two of us.”
She nods her head and wraps her arms around my neck. “I love you.”
“I know.” I kiss her forehead, her fingers lightly running through my long hair. “Now, about this dizziness.”
“I just overworked myself today and probably didn’t eat enough, don’t worry. I’m gonna live.” She tries to pull away, but I hold her close.
“But—”
“—Remember what we just talked about, Wes? About not letting worries and fears get in the way?” She chastises me with a smile on her lips and I lean in, kissing her briefly before turning away.
“I’m not. But here,” I grab a slice of pizza, motioning for her to open her mouth. She laughs as I shove the triangle of cheese into her face. “You’re eating for two now. You need to eat more, even if I have to feed you myself.” I begin piling more slices on a plate and hold back a chuckle when her eyes widen even larger.
“I can’t eat all that.”
“You will. Just wait and see.” I wink at her and she smiles that sweet, vibrant smile that I fell hard for.
“Trying to get me fat, I see.”
“That’s coming whether or not I force feed you pizza, beautiful.”
She grumbles, but picks up a slice and takes a bite, moaning as the sensations hit her tongue. “Okay, maybe I will eat it all.”
“You’re damn right you will.”