Page 40 of Room 908

He frowned. “Of course not.”

“They’re just trying to sell a story, and someone photoshopped that photo to make it look—wait, did you say?” I tried to backtrack the conversation.

He smiled softly and squeezed my hand. “I know the story isn’t true.”

All the air in my lungs came out in a whoosh, and I nearly collapsed in on myself with the sudden relief. “You do?”

“Of course I do. It’s just a tabloid. I trust you.” He took in my state, my hair likely sticking up from running my hands through it, my shirt askew. “Hey, honey, shhh,” he soothed, sitting up and pulling me into his arms. He ran his hands over my back, and my heart rate finally slowed enough that I could catch my breath. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Ten years might have passed since the last time we hurt each other, but it was clear the emotional trauma remained. I would never stop blaming myself for screwing things up with Jasper the first time, but it was more than that. He wasn’t the only one who bore the scars.

He kissed me gently on the forehead. “Gimme a few minutes.” With superb parenting skills, Jasper sent Cam off to play with his friend next door, promising pizza for dinner in an hour, then as soon as we were alone, he took me by the hand and brought me to bed.

He lay down, and I curled up beside him and rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Somehow, against the odds, I had earned Jasper’s trust, and deep inside, I knew I could trust him too. We’d been barely more than children ten years ago, and we’d made childish mistakes. But we were older now, and wiser, not to mention deeply in love. There was no reason to doubt the foundation we were building.

Jasper raked his fingers through my hair. “Better now?”

I nodded. “Sorry, I had a bit of a moment. I should’ve warned you about the tabloids, but I figured they would move on after I retired. I panicked.”

“It’s okay. You can talk to me about these things, you know. We’re a family now, Eric. And family are there for each other. No matter what.”

My family growing up had never been reliable, but it was a nice ideal to aim for. Placing my hand over Jasper’s abdomen, I tried to imagine our child growing inside him, sending them the unconditional love I already felt for them. “I can’t wait to meet you,” I whispered to them.

And just as I was swirling my finger around Jasper’s belly button, a thought snagged in my brain. “Shit! The ice cream! I left it on the counter. It’s going to be soup.”

“Oh, dear…” Jasper said slyly, not sounding all that disappointed. “Whatever will we do with all that runny, sticky, sweetness?”

I looked up at him, and he was giving me that sexy grin of his, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, you devil, you,” I growled. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back with the ice cream.”

“And a towel,” he suggested, giggling.

Yep. Life was good.

23

Jasper

Therehadbeenbetsrunning in my family that the new baby would arrive on Cam’s birthday, and as the fall frost was swapped out for an early winter, the snow here to stay, I started to wonder if they were right. But then, two weeks before our son’s 11thbirthday, my labor began.

I sat up in bed, a bit confused and disoriented about what woke me up. It was still dark out, with just the faintest glow outlining the curtains. Eric was snoring softly, but otherwise, the house was quiet. I was about to discount it as a dream, when the pressure returned, making me squirm in discomfort. My eyes snapped open, and I stared up at the ceiling with my breath held.

Braxton Hicks, I told myself.It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.

It could’ve been heartburn or the baby rolling over, but when the sensation came back, I thought it was a pretty good bet this was the real thing.

Sneaking to the bathroom, I called my mom so she and Dad could get ready. They were on deck to take Cam for us while we were at the hospital, and I knew they’d want a chance to grab a coffee before heading over.

I sat on the edge of the tub, focusing on my breathing in an attempt to slow my racing heart and calm my roiling insides. When that didn’t work, I took a warm shower, which also didn’t work. I needed Eric, who always knew exactly the right thing to say, but I didn’t want to wake him up just yet. I just knew he would elevate the energy level a thousand-fold. He was beyond excited for this baby to get here. Every day he came home with some new toy, or burp cloths with penguins on them, or itty-bitty baby socks, and he’d decorated the nursery in an explosion of color, a contrast to the muted tones in the rest of the house.

The time on my phone said it was nearly six when I heard movement from the bedroom. Sheets shifted, and I knew Eric was reaching for me, sitting up when he found the bed empty. Here I was, half dressed, leaning over the bathroom counter, hyper-focused on the sensation of squeezing that spread across my midsection with increasing frequency.

There came a soft tap on the door. “Babe? You okay?” Eric whispered, and I could hear how his voice was laced with worry.

I opened the door and practically crawled into his arms. He didn’t question, just held me as tightly as I held him. “It’s time,” I told him after a long hug.

There was no panic or fear from him. Only comfort and a strong confidence that I hadn’t been expecting but absolutely needed. He tilted my chin up to kiss me softly. “Let’s do this.” I should’ve known he would be good under pressure; he had plenty of experience for keeping a cool head with a timer counting down.

Eric took care of everything. He helped me get dressed and ready, then made sure our bag was packed and at the door. Then he woke Cam up and got him ready to go spend some time with his grandparents.

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