Wrecking Ball (Hard to Love 1)

And then Calvin proceeds to give Doctor Hotness his most lethal Prince of Darkness glare.

“It’s okay, doc. He’s tame––mostly.”

Calvin slowly walks up to me. He looks like he might rip at the seams...like he’s about to cry. He cups my face gently.

“I love you. I love you so much I can’t remember what it’s like not to love you. And I’m the biggest ass in the world for not telling you sooner, but I…” Looking over his shoulder, he scowls at the group congregating around us. “Can we have some privacy?”

The crowd disperses at once.

He gets down on his knees in front of the gurney I’m sitting on. “I was scared.” He bites his bottom lip and I want to soothe it for him with mine. “I was scared of the power you have over me. Because you do––” he says, nodding. “You do. I…I’ve never felt like this before. The thing is…you’re the best person I know. You give everything, and you never ask for anything in return and…”

“Calvin––”

“I’m not done,” he says and plants a quick kiss on me. “I thought I was an adult. I thought taking care of shit, being responsible made me a man––but I was wrong. You did…loving you made a man out me.” He blinks repeatedly, fighting the tears tracking down his cheeks, his jaw tight. For a moment, I fear it may shatter. “I’m sorry you lost the baby. We can try again as soon as you’re ready…if you still want me. Please say you still want me.”

I wipe the tears away from his face and place a kiss on each cheek, his nose, his lips. He crushes me to his chest and holds me so tightly I have to push him away before he cuts off my oxygen supply.

Looking into his glazed eyes, I say, “I didn’t lose the baby. How do you feel about that?”

His expression morphs from shock, to wonder, to joy in a split second. “You’re not messing with me, right?”

“It’s Halloween, not April Fool’s. No––I’m not messing with you,” I say, holding his face in my hands.

“Thank God,” he mumbles, exhaling deeply. And it’s like the floodgates of love open all at once. I’m assaulted with kisses. I’m hugged and squeezed, his hands sliding over every square inch of black and white fur. Then, hauling me onto his lap, he hides his face in the curve of my costume covered neck.

“Nice costume,” he mumbles an eternity later.

“You like it?”

“I fucking love cows.”

“Reginald?”

“What, Honey?”

“Why’d you think I lost the baby?”

“Amber called. She said you were having a miscarriage and it was all my fault. Then she said she hopes I get gang raped in a dark alley by a heard of homosexual mules.”

“She’s very creative.”

“She’s never allowed to babysit.”

I kiss the man I love more than life itself. “Are you mine now?”

“I’ve been yours since the minute I laid eyes on you, my little wrecking ball.”

“And you’re okay with being a father?”

He pulls back and his solemn eyes meet mine. He nods twice. “Yes. Because I’m doing it with you. All my life, I’ve felt like something was dragging me down. But when I’m with you, that weight’s gone.” Cal stands us up and bends down to kiss my pink cow udders. “Marry me?”

My smile spreads from ear to ear. “Boobear––I thought you’d never ask.”

Epilogue

“What’s it gonna take,” he says, his voice low and sexy.

My gaze slides over the traps I love to nibble on, across the broad chest that keeps me warm every night, down to the corrugated muscles of his stomach. How am I supposed to form a cohesive thought when I have his wonder for the senses distracting me? And let’s not forget that not much is covering the rest of him.

No surprise, he’s parading around in a pair of tattered boxer briefs old enough to be considered a relic. Some things never change. I tried to throw them away one day and wound up getting spanked for it. Can’t say I won’t try that again very soon. His big hand strokes and pats my daughter’s back, who looks like a tiny beanbag snuggled between his shoulder and neck.

“Babe, she’s asleep. Go put her down.”

“In a little while.”

“What’s it going to take for you to give me another one?” The wicked smile curving those sensual lips does not bode well for me.

“Something you don’t posses––the ability to breastfeed.” Bending down, he plants a sweet kiss on my lips and starts to pull away. I can’t resist threading my fingers through his hair and keeping him in place for one more. When my daughter stirs awake, we break apart. Gently, he pets the silky black hair that’s standing up straight, her fine features and coloring an exact replica of her daddy’s.

Of all the ways this man has managed to surprise me, the way he took on fatherhood was by far the most shocking. He didn’t miss a single beat. As soon as our son came into this world, he took one look at that baby, shed two tears, and took charge. For the first few months, I had to threaten him to hand the baby over so I could breastfeed. Then he went and reversed the vasectomy.