Taking Connor(79)

Looking around, I ask, “Where . . .”

“Right here, mommy,” his deep voice calls causing me to turn. “Someone needed a diaper change.”

Connor is walking down the hall toward us, diaper bag hanging off one shoulder. He’s hunched over as he walks, holding our daughter’s hand, who is just started walking in the last few months. The sight nearly takes my breath away.

When he looks up and meets my gaze he stops. Then he lets the diaper bag drop to the floor and picks up the baby, handing her to Wendy, who takes her and grabs the diaper bag.

“We’ll meet you outside,” she calls as she shoos everyone toward the exit.

Connor slides his hands in his pockets as he approaches me, his gaze never leaving mine. When he’s right in front of me, he leans down and presses his forehead to mine. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

I close my eyes and inhale deeply. I lost Connor Stevens not once, but twice in that ambulance. After he flat lined the first time, he didn’t regain consciousness. He was in a coma for a week while he underwent surgeries. It was the second time in my life that I had to stand by, powerless, and watch a man I love suffer. I can’t even begin to describe what a horrible feeling that is. And I can’t deny that day has left some pretty severe scars for me. I wake up panicked sometimes, frantically reaching out for him in the night, convinced he’s not there. But he always is. And he always presses his forehead to mine and tells me, I’m here, baby. I’m right here.

“I’m sorry,” I weep just before he pulls me in his arms.

“Don’t be,” he says, before kissing my head. “The thought of losing you makes me feel the same way.”

“I know you have to be getting tired of it, though. I’m so clingy and panicked all the time. I just . . . love you,” I admit. “So fiercely that the thought of losing you terrifies me.”

His hands find the sides of my head, and he pulls me back so that I meet his gaze. “I’ll never complain about being loved too fiercely, especially by someone as amazing as you. I’m here, baby. Whatever you need, I’m right here.”

Then, he leans down and kisses me. When he pulls away, he looks down at me and smiles before sliding his hand down and resting it on my belly. I’m only two months along. We haven’t told anyone yet, and he’s chomping at the bit to announce it to everyone.

“I did tell Blake and Grams today when I visited them this morning,” I admit.

Connor smiles softly. “Grams would have been stoked.” Meryl passed away two months after our daughter was born. We named her Eloise, Gram’s middle name, but we call her Elle. Gram’s cried like a baby when she held her for the first time. I think she knew Connor had finally found some peace and happiness in his life. That’s all Grams ever wanted for him.

“Sometimes I think I did die, that day in the ambulance, and all of this . . . is heaven,” Connor adds.

I smile as I place my hand over his where it rests on my belly. “Heaven is your psychotic wife clinging to you like a leech because she’s terrified of losing you?”

He chuckles before giving me a chaste kiss. “No,” he says, thoughtfully. “Heaven is having the love of the best person I know,” he answers. “It’s being loved so deeply I feel it in my bones. Heaven is a woman that is way out of my league choosing me to spend her life with. Not only choosing me but gifting me with children. You are heaven Demi. You’re my heaven.”

“Wow,” someone says, jerking us from an incredibly romantic moment. No surprise . . . it’s Lexi.

“You’re so getting laid tonight with lines like that Connor,” she jests as she fans herself.

I roll my eyes as Connor chuckles.

“Baby Connor is getting angry and crying for Daddy,” Lexi tells us. Lexi calls Elle, Baby Connor because the child looks as if he spit her right out of his mouth. The first time Lexi held her she said we needed a maternity test to prove I’m her mother because she looks nothing like me. Connor’s face lights up with a smile. Here he is my big, burly, mechanic man, dressed in a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up exposing his tattoos, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

“Can’t keep our girl waiting,” he beams his beautiful grin at me.

“Daddy’s girl,” I sigh. He takes my hand and pulls me with him as we follow Lexi out.

I let out a long breath and shed some of the worries I’ve been carrying.

Right now, he’s here.

I’m here.

We’re happy.

That’s all that matters.





First and foremost, thank you to my readers. You guys are amazing, and you have no idea how much your support, kind words, reviews, and sharing mean to me. There was a time not very long ago that I was begging people to read my work. It still humbles me every time one of you post on my page or send me an email. Thank you so much for everything.

Dreama Boo, I love you! Thanks for being my bestest friend and always having my back in both the real world and the literary one, too! I’m sorry I talk so much on the phone, but it’s not going to change anytime soon.

Meg Collett, thanks for looking at Taking Connor at the last minute and for giving me a kick-ass critique. I truly value our friendship and our working relationship. And I am soooooo excited for the projects we will work on in the future.