Once More Chance (Chance #2; Rosemary Beach #8) (13 page)

“I think this is a good start. I feel positive about this. You look good. I’ve studied your records, and as you know, we had to change up your medications. Some things you
can’t take while pregnant, but I feel sure this will work out just fine. You call me if you feel funny at any time. Don’t wait. Call me.” He turned his focus on me. “She
needs to call me immediately,” he repeated.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. Not something he had to demand of me. The second I thought she was having problems, I’d call the ambulance, then I’d call him.

He pulled the monitoring equipment up, and I pulled Harlow’s shirt down and helped her sit up, but not before kissing her nose. I had to kiss her somewhere. She held on to my arm for a
moment, that huge, brilliant smile still in place. “We heard it,” she said, as if to reassure me that we had heard the baby’s heartbeat.

“Yeah, we did,” I said.

How was I supposed to not want that? How could I choose anyone or anything over Harlow? I was a mess. A confused mess. I loved that sound because it was us. Our baby. It also made her so damn
happy. Was I being selfish not to want her to have this because I might lose her?

The doctor told Harlow some more things about her new medications and said that she should continue with moderate exercise as long as she rested often. She assured him that she would, and then
we were escorted out through the back entrance again.

When we were in the truck and headed back to Rosemary Beach, Harlow scooted close to me. “That was amazing,” she said softly.

I didn’t want to agree with her, but she was right. It was. “Yeah, I know.”

She wrapped her arms around one of mine and laid her head on my shoulder. “In about two more months, we’ll find out if it’s a boy or a girl, and we’ll be able to see it
move.”

A boy or a girl . . . see it move . . .
I wanted those things. I wanted them with her. Only her. But I couldn’t forget the risk. Was this the way it was supposed to be in life? You
couldn’t have every dream, but you could have part of it? You could only have a taste of something but never the full thing?

B
laire sat at the table trying to get Nate to eat his dinner. He wasn’t interested. He was focused on the door his daddy and his uncle Grant
had just walked through.

“You have to eat,” Blaire told him as he slammed his small hands on the high chair in frustration.

“No! Dada!” he shouted.

Blaire rolled her eyes. “‘No’ is his new word of the week. If I’ve heard ‘no’ once this week, I’ve heard it a million times. That and ‘Dada’
seem to be his favorite words. Last week, it was ‘cah’ and ‘Dada,’ ‘cah’ meaning car, which means he wants to go in the car. The kid likes to go.”

I smiled and watched as he pointed at the door and demanded, “Dada,” again. He was very fond of his father.

“I give up,” Blaire said, setting down the bowl of oatmeal she had been trying to get him to eat. “Let me see if Rush minds taking him outside with them.”

Nate watched his mother walk to the door with complete concentration until he realized I was still seated on the other side of him. He swung his silver eyes my way and gave me a toothless grin.
The older he got, the more he looked like his dad. Which I was sure was a good thing for all the female babies of the world. One day, there would be another Finlay man available.

Blaire came back inside, followed by Rush. His eyes went straight to Nate. “You want me, little man?” he said, grinning as if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Take the oatmeal with you, and see if you can get him to eat it while y’all do your male bonding,” Blaire said.

Rush unbuckled Nate, who was now clapping happily, and took the bowl Blaire was holding out for him. He bent down and kissed Blaire. I turned my head when I saw the tip of his tongue swipe her
bottom lip.

“I got this guy. He’ll eat for me. You two talk. Grant and I will teach Nate about the world.”

Blaire laughed as she sat back down. “Oh, good Lord. That doesn’t sound good.”

Rush winked and sauntered back out of the house with the baby and a bowl of oatmeal in his arms. He didn’t look anything like a daddy, with his tattoo-covered arms, but he was a really
good one. He was how I pictured Grant being.

“I’d ask you if you wanted some coffee, but that’s off-limits,” Blaire said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “How are things? Is Grant doing OK with
everything?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer this. It had been two weeks since we had heard the heartbeat, and he was much better. He even called it a baby now. Before, he had acted as if it didn’t
exist. The baby was real to him now. I had seen it in his eyes the moment it clicked for him. But he was still edgy. And he was determined to make sure I was well taken care of. “Hearing the
heartbeat helped him. I think he gets it now, at least somewhat. He understands what I’m feeling, that there’s a life in there that we made, and I can’t just end it. I don’t
think he would fight me if I decided to end the pregnancy tomorrow, but he does have some connection to the baby now. That’s a start.”

Blaire frowned. She wasn’t a frowner, so seeing her frown was strange. “He’s scared of losing you. I think right now, he’d sacrifice anyone other than you. He loves
you.” Her face transformed from the frown to a smile. “And I am so happy he found you. I always knew Grant was so much more than the women he paraded in and out of his
bedroom.”

I tried not to flinch.

Blaire squeezed her eyes tightly closed. “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. I just . . . I know what Rush’s past was like firsthand. I actually saw him having sex
with one of his many one-night stands before we were dating. And I saw him heavily making out with another one. And I saw another one leaving his room one morning. I guess I’m immune to
Rush’s past. It was before me, and it doesn’t bother me. But you didn’t see all of that with Grant. I need to watch my tongue.”

I hadn’t known Blaire had seen Rush having sex with another woman. Even if it was before her, that still seemed awful. But then, their relationship didn’t start out in a typical way.
They were stepsiblings, and Blaire had been dumped into Rush’s lap by her dad without Rush’s consent.

“It’s fine. I know what Grant was like. I did hear him having sex with Nan; I just can’t imagine seeing it.”

Blaire shuddered. “I don’t want the visual, either, so let’s change the subject. Are you going to find out the sex of the baby?”

We were. I wanted to know, just in case I didn’t get that chance to hold my baby. I wanted to know what I was having. I wanted to name it and talk to it. I also wanted to stop calling it
an
it
. “Yes. We’re going to find out.”

Blaire smiled. “I loved knowing what Nate was before he arrived. I was able to daydream about him and talk to him, and of course, Rush decorated his room for him. Wait . . . where will you
put the baby?”

There was no extra room in Grant’s condo. I had thought about moving the dresser in the bedroom out into the living room and putting the baby’s crib there. But we didn’t even
have a crib yet. I had no idea what our plans were. “I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to make room in the bedroom for the crib.”

As much as I didn’t want to think about the worst case, I had to plan for it. I couldn’t leave Grant without any preparation. I knew Maryann was ready to step up and take the baby if
she had to. I was secure knowing that if Grant couldn’t handle it or didn’t want that sole responsibility, Maryann was prepared. But I wanted Grant to keep our baby. I wanted our baby
to chant “Dada” over and over again and raise its little arms at the sight of Grant. I just couldn’t be sure that was what would happen, especially not right away.

If he needed to grieve.

“Your thoughts just went downhill. It’s all over your face. What did I say?” Blaire was so observant. I needed to be careful. I didn’t want her thinking I was preparing
to die. I didn’t want anyone to think that, because I intended to live. I just wasn’t living in a fairy tale, and I knew that it was possible I wasn’t strong enough.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I overplan in my head. I like to be prepared for everything,” I explained, and forced a smile I didn’t feel.

R
ush came back outside, with Nate in his arms and a bowl of something. Nate spotted me and clapped. “Yeah, that’s your gullible uncle
Grant who keeps picking up the shit you drop.”

“He’s gonna end up cursing around Blaire, and you’re gonna be sleeping on the couch for a week. Maybe she’ll stick your ass under the stairs. I hear payback is a
bitch,” I told him, referring to how Blaire had slept in a room under Rush’s stairs when she first came to town.

He rolled his eyes, sat down, and put Nate on his knee. “If he says one of those words, we’ll blame it on Uncle Grant, won’t we, buddy? Point your finger that way, and save
Daddy’s ass,” Rush said with a smirk.

“What’s in the bowl?” I asked as he held a spoonful up to Nate’s mouth. He turned his head away. Smart kid. It looked nasty.

“Oatmeal. He hates it,” Rush said, trying to get Nate to take a mouthful.

“If he hates it, and I would hate it, too, why are you feeding it to him?” I asked.

Rush lifted his eyes to me. “Because Blaire said to. You don’t question the mommy. Ever.”

Good to know.

“So you heard the heartbeat,” Rush said, putting the oatmeal down in a sign of defeat.

“Yeah. We did. And . . . well, it felt real finally. Like there was something there. A life. It wasn’t just Harlow—there was another heartbeat inside of her. A heartbeat we
created. I just . . . is it wrong that I felt attached to it? That I wanted to protect it? I can’t lose Harlow. I can’t. So I shouldn’t feel this way, right?”

Rush looked down at Nate and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re asking a man who has a kid. A man who would throw himself in front of a bullet, a truck, you fucking name
it—I would do whatever I had to for this boy. He’s mine. I can’t ever consider not wanting him. But again, Blaire’s life was never threatened. We didn’t have that kind
of decision to make. But no, I don’t think it’s wrong that you felt something when you heard the heartbeat. I cried like a damn baby when I saw the first ultrasound of Nate. It’s
an emotional thing. It’s normal. Don’t beat yourself up for loving something you created with the woman you love. Especially if she adores it.”

I heard him, and he made sense, but I was still tormented by the idea that this life I was growing attached to could take Harlow’s life away. She was my number one. “If I lose her,
it’s my fault. I did this. I wasn’t careful, and now she’s pregnant,” I said. He had heard me say this before, but it was haunting me, and I needed to say it. I
couldn’t say it to her. And having Kiro tell me this exact same thing only confirmed it. I did this.

“You didn’t know she had health problems. She was scared to tell you, and I understand that, but I also know that you can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t
know.”

I had always been careful. Never sleeping with anyone without protection. I’d never considered going without a wrapper, but Harlow had gotten under my skin, and I was so damn crazy about
her that I lost all rational thought. My lust for her made me make bad decisions. But did my not knowing about her heart actually change anything? No. It was still the same outcome. I did this.

Last night, Harlow had lain in my arms, and I’d watched her eyes study the room. Finally, she had said we would need to move the dresser into the living room to fit the
baby’s crib. I hadn’t responded. I hadn’t known how. I liked the idea of bringing the baby home and Harlow rocking it, holding it, and putting it to bed. But I was afraid to live
in that world. Because if that wasn’t the outcome, I needed to be prepared to take on Harlow’s role, too.

She kissed me good-bye this morning when I left for work, then she rolled over and went back to sleep. Seeing her get some rest eased my worries a little.

But I hadn’t told her the truth about where I was going.

I wasn’t working; I was house hunting. If Harlow could live by sheer force of will, I decided I was going to give her the world to fight for. Starting with a house and a bedroom she could
decorate for our baby. We could paint it together and pick out the furniture, although I was going to go along with anything she said. Unless, of course, it was a boy and she tried to put girlie
shit in his room.