Chapter Twenty-One

Cade

Nine Weeks Later

It’s the final day of filming, and I’m excited as fuck to get it over with. We just have two short scenes to reshoot and then it’s homeward bound for me.

Dylan’s due date is this Sunday, the timing couldn’t be more perfect, and I can’t wait to get home to her.

It’s been a crazy two months, that’s for sure.

Shortly after Dylan’s statement was made public, I stood by her side as she made a statement to the courts in a hearing against Grant Maxwell. It was that day that we learned that it was Grant who forced himself on her.

The tapes left little doubt; the bastard brought her to a room that was being recorded, knowing it was being recorded. Turned out, Grant and his wife got off on their own personal porn tapes. It was the piece of testimony that I wished Dylan didn’t have to hear; she didn’t need to be likened to porn.

Other than that first weekend after we took that step into a relationship, where I couldn’t make it back home, I spent every weekend with Dylan at her little apartment. My place was collecting dust, but for the few times I stirred it up when I ran over to grab more clothes. I was unofficially living with Dylan O’Neill.

I was also rarely without my phone these days. I may not be able to do anything for Dylan whenever I was actually on set, but I refused to not be mostly available for her, if she’d need anything.

“That’s a wrap!” the director yells from his seat, and the set erupts in cheers.

My cheers are for a whole different reason.

I get to finally go home.

For good.

***

The moment my feet touch carpet at LAX, my phone is buzzing with an incoming call.

I pull it out of the side pocket of my backpack, frowning at Charleigh’s number. Her timing is great. It’s as if she was waiting for my plane to—

Shit.

Immediately, I answer. “Is she okay?” The only reason why Charleigh would call me right away, would be Dylan.

“She’s okay,” Charleigh says, her voice oddly calm. “But she’s been in active labor for ten hours.”

That stops me.

Dead stop, in the middle of a walkway.

“Thanks a lot, asshole,” a man mumbles as he narrowly misses colliding with my back.

“Ten hours? How come no one called me?” I start moving again, quicker this time.

“You wouldn’t have been here any sooner, Cade. She’s fine. Crystal is here, and everything is progressing just fine.” I officially met Dylan’s midwife four weeks ago, and I liked the woman. She was kind and good to Dylan.

Most importantly, Dylan liked her.

“Put her on the phone.” I follow the masses toward baggage claim, but only because that’s the way to the lot I’m parked in. With my traveling back and forth every week, my backpack has everything I’ve been traveling with.

“Crystal?”

“Don’t be dense, Charleigh.”

My friend laughs in the phone, but she must do as I ask, because the next voice I hear is Dylan’s. “Hey, Cade.” Her words are said strong, but I’ve grown to know Dylan well enough to hear the pain interlacing them.

“Hey, baby. I’m almost home. I’m just leaving the airport. Should be at the truck in ten minutes tops.”

“I don’t think…” I hear her sharp intake of breath and then there are voices in the background. I don’t hear Dylan’s voice for another forty seconds. “I don’t think you’re going to make it.” The last of her words are said on a sob and I want nothing more than to be right where she is, holding her tight through the contractions that are obviously stealing her fight.

“Listen, Dylan,” I say, moving as quickly as I can, “don’t push yourself, baby. If you’ve gotta push, you push. Do what’s best for you and that boy. I’ll be home soon.”

“But I want you—”

“I know, baby. I want to be there too.” Fuck, my eyes are starting to burn. “God, I want to be there. But don’t do anything dumb. If Crystal tells you to push, you push. You got that?”

“Yeah.” I can tell she’s crying now and my heart is shattering.

“I’m almost there. I’ll be home soon. You’ve got this.” Then, because I think she needs the push, I utter three words for the very first time. “I love you.”

***

I don’t even bother with the garage when I get to the complex. I park right out front of the lobby. The staff knows my truck now—I even have my own parking space in the garage now—and while I know it’s a thirty-minute spot, I trust they won’t have me towed.

I race into the lobby, where Denise, one of the leasing agents, smiles and waves. “Welcome back, Cade. How’s Dylan?”

I keep walking, but still respond to her. “She’s having him, Denise. I’ve gotta run.”

Lucky bastard that I sometimes am, the elevator doors slide open just as I push the button.

“Congratulations, daddy!” Denise calls after me as I step inside.

Once the doors shut, her words sink in.

And I smile.

Because while I may not be the baby’s sperm donor, and even though the time isn’t right at this moment, I will do everything in my power to be this little boy’s father.

To call his mother my wife.

Someday.

Someday soon.

The elevator takes for-fucking-ever to reach my floor, but as soon as it does, I’m racing down the hall to the third of four apartments on this floor. I burst into the space, but they’re nowhere to be found.

Then Charleigh is peeking around the corner.

“You didn’t make it.” Her face is deadpanned, and I feel my heart fall. I knew it wasn’t likely, but fuck, I wanted to be here.

Then my friend smiles. “God, you’re so fucking easy today, Cade. Hurry up. You’re just in time.”