“I know that doesn’t make you happy, but how about you put your money towards our little girl’s future, like her college fund and no doubt to fund an addiction to expensive clothing she will inherit from her mother.”
I had stewed on that for a moment, deciding not to fight over something he obviously wasn’t budging on. He was also right, my little girl was going to be clad in designer from birth.
So Amy and I had taken a trip to LA to hit this baby furniture boutique that we had found online and shopped up a storm with Cade’s credit card. I decided to fit out the baby’s room in neutral colours, no tacky pink screaming everywhere. We put the nursery in the back room of Cade’s house, it was big, had heaps of natural light and a view of the ocean. I had it painted all white, then got one wall painted with a tree of life design. It was a golden brown, simple, taking up the entire wall, its roots crawling from one edge of the room to another. No leaves, a symbol of eternal life, like the tattoo my brother had on his back. I had Cade’s hardwood floors polished and varnished and they looked amazing. I had a huge sheepskin rug shipped over from NZ so my feet could feel home and put it in the middle of the room. The crib was white and old fashioned, with white frilled bedding and a huge butterfly mobile hanging above it. I had a white wicker rocking chair sitting beside the crib, my mum used to always talk about rocking me to sleep so I wanted the same for my baby. There was a big wicker sofa in the corner that had a light pink afghan thrown on top of it and hand printed butterfly cushions. There was a changing table underneath the window and a huge old free standing wardrobe beside it. I loved the room and so did Cade.
“Was expecting a fucking explosion of pink and bows babe, prepared to live with it too, but this is perfect,” he said after seeing the final product.
I was slightly affronted that he thought so little of my taste, but cut him some slack since I had turned his house into a war zone. And because he was putting up with my pregnant mood swings. Cade loved me being pregnant. Every time he was near me his hand would rest protectively on my belly, and he would talk to it when we were in bed. He even insisted on putting my stretch mark cream on. Me turning into a beached whale hadn’t dampened our sex life, if anything I was hornier, not that Cade complained. He couldn’t get enough, even dragging me off into a dark corner at the clubhouse during a party. He had bent me over an old car and made me scream, luckily drowned out by AC/DC.
Club business had been quiet also. They were out of guns completely and so far hadn’t had any backlash. Their security business was booming according to Cade, but he refused to take any assignments that would mean leaving me for even a night.
“Missed out on two months of your pregnancy Gwen, not missing a fucking second more if I can help it.”
Things between him and Steg even improved. They had some kind of mutual understanding. They would never have that father and son bond back, but there was some form of respect. Steg was slowly proving me wrong about my first impressions, treating me with care ever since I had got home. He had been at the airport when we got back and had given me a warm embrace and sincere words about my brother. And every time I saw him, he kissed my head and asked the same question.
“How’s my little Templar going in there?” Meaning Bun. Since Cade was the closest thing he had to a son, our baby was going to be treated as his grandkid. I didn’t actually mind too much, especially since, to my shock Evie had taken on the grandmother role with everything she had. Not that anyone would ever mistake her for a grandmother. But she was always coming to the store, bringing baby gifts (a pink ‘Sons of Templar’ onesie was my favorite so far) and had helped me oversee all of the renovations to Cade’s house. Not to mention she always brought whatever I was craving that week, even when for an entire week it was cottage cheese wraps with pumpkin seeds. Luckily Cade was just as patient, I had made him leave the house at 2am to go and get me grapefruit, near tears.
So that led me back to now, after two amazing orgasms, but unfortunately no labor.
“Fuck,” I muttered after coming down from my wave of pleasure.
“Not the response I’m used to getting, babe,” Cade remarked dryly from where he sat behind me. My back was resting against his chest and he was sitting up slightly against the headboard, his arms around my belly. It was the only comfortable and humanly possible cuddle position thanks to my belly that should have its own sun.
“You know full well that was great,” I huffed. “But I thought in addition to an orgasm I might also get a baby out of me.”
I felt Cade’s chest vibrate as he laughed, hands caressing my stomach. “She’ll come out when she’s ready. I bet she’s just stubborn like her mother.”
I rolled my eyes. Cade hadn’t always been so breezy about our child’s lack of eagerness to leave the womb. He had actually been worried out of his mind the day after the due date, dragging me to the doctors demanding to know if the baby was okay. After some reassurance, he had calmed down. Although I thought he might’ve attempted to bring an ultrasound machine with him if he could’ve hidden one under his cut.
Our post sex cuddling was cut short when Cade and the guys had to go check on some security thing, he did tell me what it was, but I was currently neck deep in self pity, so I didn’t listen. It was too hot to be this pregnant! Cade had commanded me to either stay at the clubhouse with the remainder of guys left behind or have someone drive me if I was going to go anywhere. Since I was bound to pop at any given moment, Cade wouldn’t let me be alone. Considering the fact that my girth couldn’t fit behind a wheel anyway I didn’t have much choice.