Short Rides (Rough Riders #14.5)(34)

“Us being in the family way won’t affect me until you go into labor and I know that baby is coming out—one way or another. So I’m in stasis.”


“That’s how I feel most days too.”


The skin beneath his hand rippled and he watched as an elbow or a knee moved along the surface like a shark’s fin on the water until it disappeared. “Holy shit. Did you see that?”


“I definitely felt it.”


“Does it hurt?”


“A little. Mostly it’s just weird having something living inside me.” She smiled softly—almost serenely and placed her hand over his on her belly. “But it is really freakin’ cool, too.”


Jack tucked a hank of hair behind her ear. “That it is.”


She yawned. “Sorry.”


“I know you’re tired. Can you fall asleep like this?” Keely’s tendency to snuggle up with him at night had ended the fourth month of her pregnancy. He’d missed her sprawled all over him.


“Uh-huh. But I’ll probably wake you when I have to get up in a while and use the bathroom again.”



“I won’t mind.” Jack pulled the covers over them.


“About the flowerpot...”


“No need to apologize. It’s over and done with.”


“I wasn’t gonna apologize. I was gonna remind you to buy me a replacement tomorrow. Since the destruction of the poor pot of impatiens was your fault.”


He didn’t think she’d appreciate the irony that’d she’d angrily hurled a container of impatiens at him so he didn’t mention it.


All Knocked Up: Chapter Two


Keely—eight months pregnant...


“Look at all this cute stuff.” Keely eyed the baby gifts stacked on the dining room table. “I can’t believe how many people showed up.”


“Your Aunt Kimi certainly outdid herself on this baby shower. I swear she would’ve invited everyone in three counties if I hadn’t culled her guest list. Were you disappointed that Ramona couldn’t be here?”


“No. I’m happy that she’s finally got a decent man in her life. Chassie felt bad about missing it too, but both she and baby Isabel have a nasty cold and she didn’t want to infect me.”


“I know Vi was disappointed Chase and Ava weren’t here this weekend with their darling little boy Cooper.”


“I understand it’s hell taking a baby with an ear infection on a plane—even a private plane.”


Keely’s mother picked up a plate with remnants of blue and pink frosting on the plastic fork and tossed it in the garbage. “It was sweet of Vi and Rielle to bake the cake.”


“I’m a sucker for cake.”


“I know you are, sweetie. You crashing from the sugar buzz yet?”


“Maybe. I am tired. I hate bein’ so freakin’ tired all the time.” The ladies who’d attended the shower smirked and said the tired aspect wouldn’t go away after the birth—that was the universe’s way of preparing her for sleepless nights and the demands of parenting.


A bunch of horseshit, if you asked her. Her tiredness stemmed from carrying around fifty extra pounds.


Keely’s mom put an arm around her shoulders, directing her to a recliner in the den. “Put your feet up. Sweetie, you sure you’re okay? You look a little...off.”


“I am. This is all a lot to process.”


“True, but I know that’s not what put that wrinkle in your brow. So what’s really bothering you?”


Keely knew her mom would see through flippancy or badger her if she hedged, so she admitted, “I’m scared.”


“Of?”


“Of everything having to do with having a baby. I’ve been hearing childbirth horror stories and—”


“Keely West McKay.” Her mother sat on the ottoman and set her hand on Keely’s knee. “You have to stop listening to them.”


“But it seemed everyone wanted to share theirs with me today. I’ve heard about back labor, and all the different tears, rips and fissures that can happen to and around my va-jay-jay. Not to mention the discussions of cracked and bleeding nipples, sleep deprivation, months of postpartum depression and the death knell of my sex life.”


“Oh pooh. Scare tactics. Those women only wanted to prove their expertise, for lack of a better term, in something they’ve experienced. Plus, there is competition about who has the most horrifying childbirth story. I swear I heard that friend of yours from high school, Mary what’s-her-name, talking about her episiotomy. There’s not that much skin down there to sustain the two hundred stitches it took to sew her up.” Her mom sighed. “Okay, she didn’t actually say two hundred stitches, but she made it sound that bad to scare you.”


“Were you worried when you were pregnant with Cord?”


“Terrified. I was twenty years old and my mother had died the year before so I had no one to talk to who’d been through it. Then again, in those days, the details of childbirth weren’t discussed. So it is good that attitude has changed and women are comfortable sharing their stories. And back then, men weren’t expected to be in the delivery room.”