Because of Them (Because of Love #2)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

AUDREY

M ichael stands on the porch, shuffling his feet. He rubs at one arm, just below his bicep, shoulders hunched forward and face to the ground.

The morning sun leaves harsh shadows across his face, but as I open the door he looks up from his feet with half a smile. It grows the longer he looks at me, spreading until I can see the way his cheeks puff out in his silhouette.

Baxter runs through his legs, winding the leash around his ankles. Michael reaches down for the lead, unclasping it from Baxter’s collar and stepping out of the loose knots. Baxter yelps in excitement, moving to lick the tops of my feet. Spying Maisie down the hall, he barrels through my legs to greet her. I knew when I asked Michael to stay that he was as much a package deal as I am. The dog goes everywhere with him, and I’d accepted that even when I wasn’t thrilled about having fur all through the house. Two weeks without him running playfully around our feet though? I’ll never admit it out loud, but I missed Baxter.

Even so, I wobble from the forceful movement as he pushes through my legs. Clutching at my stomach, I reach for the door frame to balance myself. Michael holds out a hand, supporting me while I find my balance. His hand is warm on the bare skin of my arm, sending a fire through me. One I thought was extinguished by the baby bump and the swollen feet and the daily, never ending, exhaustion.

Leaning into the touch, I rake my eyes over Michael. He’s wearing a dark grey pair of sweats that sit loose over his thighs but cinch in at his ankles. The lighter, oversized tank gives me a full view of his muscular arms, and I fight to hold in the drool that forms when I remember how it feels when he holds me. Moves me. Uses me.

My breath catches when I go to speak and I feel every little bit of the distance between us. The small gap between our bodies as he holds me at arm’s length. Plus the two weeks we spent barely talking while he and Maisie recovered from one of the worst stomach bugs I’ve ever seen, and I avoided both of them. I have Michael to thank for me not catching it, and I’m still in disbelief that I didn’t. After he spent the night looking after Maisie, I called Callum, who rushed over in full supportive, protective dad mode and took Maisie back to his house. Michael emerged from the bathroom to watch over Maisie until Callum arrived. When they left, he sprayed the entire house with disinfectant before retreating to his apartment.

I don’t blame him for escaping to his bachelor pad. I know that he was thinking of me just as much as he was thinking of himself. But still, it’s nice to have him back. Except that he still hasn’t closed the gap between us and the longer we stand here in silence, the harder it is for me to take the step towards him either. There’s an icy chill to the air around us. I wrap my arms around me, wishing I had extra layers to hide behind.

“I missed you,” I admit, forcing my gaze up to his face.

His smile has melted away into something softer. His lips are gently upturned and a glimmer that sparkles in his eye. Tracing his fingers up my arm, he rests his palm on my cheek.

“I’m glad you didn’t get sick.”

My heart drops, my head tilts down until I’m staring at the place my feet would be if my massive baby bump wasn’t blocking my view. That’s all?

“It would have been bad for the babies. Thank you.”

He shakes his head and uses a thumb to tilt my face back up to his. “No Audrey, it would have been bad for you.”

Finally, finally , he closes the gap, stepping forward as his other arm wraps around me. My stomach pushes against him but he leans in and kisses me like we were apart for two years, not just two weeks. Our lips and tongues tangle together and the warmth from his hands spreads everywhere. Down my spine, along my stomach, into my core. It’s an all-consuming wave that threatens to topple me over and I have to break our kiss to catch my breath.

Michael leans down, planting a kiss on my stomach and picking up his duffle bag. Holding his other hand, I guide him into the house. He hesitates as he steps over the threshold, but takes the step when I turn back to grin at him.

In the kitchen, he pulls a cantaloupe from his bag.

“It’s getting ridiculous now,” he says as he chops the melon. “I highly doubt you have two of these in there.”

I find a container for the fruit, popping a few of the bite size pieces into my mouth.

“Is that really what the app said for thirty-four weeks?”

Maisie announces her entrance into the kitchen with a ruffled, exaggerated sigh. “Can we please go through the box of my old stuff now?”

Baxter trails in behind her, and she reaches out to scratch behind his ears.

“What box?” Michael asks.

“All my old baby things!” Maisie squeals as she drags him to her room. “It’s in my closet. Mummy said we could go through it to see what the babies might want, buuut it’s too heavy for her to get down. So, we need you to.”

“Thank you,” I call down the hall as they disappear into her bedroom. As I make my way to the living room, a new wave of heat flows down my back, pulling tight at my stomach until it’s hard to breathe. It’s far from painful, but when it’s not laced with the desire I felt when Michael and I were kissing, it’s not pleasant. I head towards the couch, grabbing my water bottle from the coffee table to take a large sip. I reason with myself; it’s too early, I’m probably just dehydrated again, it’s not contractions. But even with my voice of reason my heart picks up pace.

I gulp down more water, trying to swallow down the unnecessary panic bubbling to the surface. Baxter nudges me closer to the couch. Taking his advice, I sit down on the soft linen, leaning over one of the arms as I try to catch my breath. He rests his head on my knees, one paw propped against my leg. His weight pushed against mine grounds me, and I find my chest feels lighter. I scratch his neck, grateful for his presence.

From Maisie’s bedroom, a thud sounds, followed by her enthusiastic squeals. She runs down the hall, Michael trailing behind her with the big plastic tub. I admire the way the muscles in his arms pull tight and a different kind of rush flows through my body. My cheeks grow hot and he winks when he sees me staring.

With the box on the coffee table, Maisie wastes no time pulling out the contents. Her soft green baby blanket is discarded on the floor as she searches for memories from her younger years. It’s brighter than how I painted it, a vibrant mint green that pops against the soft cream of the rug. Michael, seeing the way I look at it, crawls around the floor to get it. He drapes it over my knees. Baxter whines at the disruption, but promptly rests his head back on my lap. Michael settles down to rest his back on the couch beside me, an arm wrapped around my leg.

“It was her favourite. Well, my favourite for her.” I curl my fingers in the blanket. Nostalgia is a breath of fresh air that pushes aside my panic and I remember sitting on this very couch with a teeny tiny Maisie wrapped in this very blanket on my lap. I remember how perfect the world felt, how I thought nothing could get better than that moment. How wrong I was. Because now, with Michael, about to introduce two tiny souls into our world, feels more right than any moment before. I’m still scared, terrified, of what life will look like with two screaming babies while we juggle the freshness of our relationship, but I know we will tackle it together. My heart swells and tears form in my eyes as I choke back the love and joy that threatens to spill.

Michael plays with a tasselled corner, admiring the delicate fabric. “I wonder if we could get one to match?”

“I doubt they sell them anymore. I don’t even know if the shop still exists.”

“Then we can see if someone will make one. There has to be some crafty person making custom baby blankets. So both babies can have one.” He turns his attention away from where Maisie is now holding tiny onesies against her chest. “Or we could get them their own blankets? Similar but different?”

I nod, slipping my hand under his to lock our fingers together. “I’d like that. Most of this stuff we would need to buy a second anyway. And how would we decide what baby gets the well-loved hand me downs and which baby gets the brand-new stuff? Plus, I didn’t keep all these things to use again, I kept them as memories for Maisie. I don’t want her to lose that.”

Michael closes his fist around my fingers. With his free hand he holds my stomach. Both babies go to town kicking, like they always do when he is close. A satisfied sigh escapes him.

“So, she won’t,” he says. “We’ll get them new stuff.”

The babies’ kicking stops, replaced by an intense pressure through my belly, like they are pushing out in every direction. I suck in air through gritted teeth, waiting for the pressure to release. Pain shoots up my spine.

And then, almost as fast as it came, it goes. All of it, the pain, the pressure, the tightness. My hand loosens its death grip on Michael’s fingers. Concern is laced all over his face as he climbs onto the couch to sit beside me.

“You okay?”

“I think so.” I breathe slowly, still catching my breath. My heart still races because that was definitely a contraction.

With her head inside the box, completely oblivious to my current state, Maisie squeals. Her voice somehow more high pitched than it has ever been, she reappears holding a greying teddy pressed against her face.

“Oh, oh, oh.” She jumps around with each sound. “ My teddy ! I can’t believe he was in here! I was looking for him!”

She disappears into her room.

“She definitely has not been looking for that teddy.”

Michael kicks off his sneakers and curls his body onto the couch. He stretches out until he is laying with his head against my stomach.

“Do we need to call the hospital?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet. But I think I should call Callum to come get Maisie just in case.”

“It’s too early.”

My palms are sweaty, my heart squeezes. “I know.”