Stumbling Into Love (Fluke My Life 2)

“Promise me that if you need to rest, you will rest.”

“I promise.” I give him a salute. “Now let’s see what you got for me.”

I hold out my hand, and he picks up the bag and passes it to me. Opening it up, I fight back a laugh as I pull out the dress to get a better look at it.

“Well, it’s definitely festive.” I stand up and hold the red, white, and blue dress up in front of me. The top of the dress is dark blue with white stars, and the bottom part is red and white stripes.

“There weren’t a lot of options,” he says, sounding unsure. “Is it okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

I go to him, wedge myself between his spread thighs, and his hands move to my stomach. He drops his forehead and rests it there.

“Thank you.”

I run my fingers through his hair, and he tips his head back to look at me. I bend at the waist as best I can and touch my mouth to his, then take a step back and put on my new dress over my head. The band that wraps around my breasts is a little snug, but besides that, the rest of the material skims over my stomach and slides down my body. It just touches the floor. Going across the room, I check myself out in the mirror, turning side to side. I look very patriotic.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I meet his gaze in the mirror and shake my head when I see how dark his eyes are. He is really in love with my pregnant body. I don’t get it, but I do appreciate that he still finds me attractive. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m going to be.” He stands up from the bed and comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me, settling his hands on my waist, and his chin on the top of my head. “Remember what you promised?”

“I remember . . .” I roll my eyes, then turn in his arms and get up on tiptoes and peck his lips. “Let me finish getting ready, and we can go.”

“Take your time.” He kisses my forehead, then turns me toward the door. Going past the living room, I head into the bathroom and finish getting ready. I hear the TV turn on. I have no doubt that he’s watching one of his guy shows while working on either the crib or the dresser we picked up from Ikea a few days ago. Both things came in a million pieces. I didn’t even pretend to know where to start, which left him on his own.

After brushing out my hair, I put it up in a bun, then put on some tinted moisturizer, blush, and mascara. Once I’m done, I head into the kitchen and pull out my ever-present pitcher of grape Crystal Light. I’m so addicted to the stuff that I drink about a quart a day. After filling up my tumbler, I take it with me to the living room and take a seat on the couch to watch Wesley finish one more dresser drawer.

“Do you think we should move?” I ask.

He stops what he’s doing.

“I know we said we would wait until after he gets here, but we only have the one bedroom, and he seems to be accumulating a lot of stuff already,” I say, looking around the living room.

Last month, my sisters threw me a baby shower, and we got so many diapers and other things that we will need for the baby that there isn’t any room left in the apartment for us.

“Gorgeous, you are in no shape to move. I’m not going to put you through that right now. We’ll move after the baby’s born.”

“Don’t you think it will be harder to move with a newborn?” I ask.

He looks around, then down at my stomach. He drops his face into his hands for a moment and grumbles something I can’t make out.

“We need to go to your parents’.” He stands and pulls me up to stand with him.

Grabbing his hand, I stop him before he can get away. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. We just need to hit the road if we’re going to make it there in time for lunch.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He bends and kisses me quickly before leaning back. “Let’s go.”

I grab my bag from the top of the kitchen table and then take his hand and follow him out of the house. The car is parked a block away. Once there, he helps me in, then jogs around to get behind the wheel. Checking my cell phone, I see a text from Fawn letting me know that she and Levi just arrived out on Long Island and that traffic was horrible.

“Fawn said they just got to Mom and Dad’s, and that traffic is backed up.”

“It’s all right. We’ll make it there in time for the fireworks,” he says.

I laugh while turning to put on my seat belt.

“Oh.” I pull in a quick breath as a sharp pain shoots through my abdomen.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?” he repeats, sounding on edge.

“I . . . Oh!” I grab hold of my stomach when another sharp pain hits me.

“You’re not okay,” he growls.

I bite my lip. He’s right, I’m not okay.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“It’s too soon for me to have the baby.”

“It’s not too soon.” He rests his open palm over my stomach. “He’s already nine pounds, and his lungs are developed. If he’s coming early, everything will be okay. Okay?”

“Okay.” Feeling slightly reassured, I take one deep breath, then another, as he pulls the car out into traffic and rushes us to the hospital. We call my parents and everyone on the way.

WESLEY

“Push!” the doctor instructs.

Mackenzie bears down once more while squeezing my fingers so tight that I swear she’s going to cause them to fall off from lack of blood flow.

“You’re doing so good, gorgeous. Just keep pushing,” I encourage gently.

“Shut up! No one wants your stupid advice! It’s your fault that I’m in this situation, you jerk!” she screams, her face turning red.

I would be offended by the outburst, but just minutes ago she was telling me how much she loved me. Since going into labor, she has adopted multiple personalities.

“I know it’s my fault. I’m sorry,” I agree. She squeezes harder.

I hate this. I hate that she’s in pain.

“Okay, relax for me,” the doctor says.

She falls back on the bed and closes her eyes. Taking the wet washcloth off her brow, I kiss her forehead and replace it with a new one that’s cold.

“I see the head. Let’s go again!” the doctor calls.

I hold on to her hand and pull back her knee while the nurse across from me does the same thing.

“He’s here!” the doctor says.

I stupidly look down between Mackenzie’s legs, instantly regretting it when I see blood—lots of blood—and a round object ripping her open.

“He’s going down!” I hear someone shout at the other end of the tunnel I’ve fallen into, right before everything goes dark.

Hearing a beep, beep, beep, I squint my eyes open against the bright light above me. Someone is shining a flashlight in my eyes.

“Welcome back.” Mackenzie smiles at me, and I shake my head and sit up.

“What happened?”

“You passed out,” the nurse says while she rolls her eyes.

“I passed out . . .”

I look around, and my stomach drops. Seeing Mackenzie adjust a bundle of blankets against her chest, everything comes back to me. Baby! She was having our baby. Quickly getting up, I rush across the room and straight through the nurses moving around at her side.

“Are you okay? Are you both okay?”

“We are both fine.” She pulls back the edge of the blanket, and tears fill my eyes as I fall instantly in love for the second time in my life.

Our son is adorable. He’s the perfect mixture of his mom and me. When he opens his eyes and looks up at me, the tears I was trying to control spill over.

“I know that we were still trying to come up with a name for him,” she says.

I kiss the top of his head.

“Do you have an idea?” I ask, sliding my fingers across his fuzz-covered head.

“Dustin.

”

“Really?” My voice sounds like I just swallowed gravel.

“He looks like a Dustin, doesn’t he?” she asks, touching her fingers to his nose and then his chin.

“He does,” I agree, resting my lips on her forehead. “Thank you, gorgeous.”

“For what?” She pulls her eyes from our boy to look at me.

“For everything. For bringing me back to life and giving me something to fight for.”

“I love you, Wesley.” She tucks her forehead into my throat, and I hold her and our son. I vow then and there to keep them safe always.

Seven months later . . .