Stay with Me Page 13

  She wiped at her face again with her palms. “I won’t lie to you. I was—am—angry. I was hurt. But I could have told you. Yes, I planned to tell you the night of our anniversary. I had it all planned out, how I’d tell you, and I imagined your reactions. I’d hoped that you’d want to spend more time with me, that somehow we could go back and recapture the way it used to be.

  “But then in Jamaica, I didn’t want to tell you until we got back because I knew it would change the entire tone of the vacation. I was selfish because I wanted it to be just us. I wanted you to want to be with me because you loved me, not because I was pregnant.”

  Logan leaned forward, his entire body tense, like a coiled spring. There was urgency in his expression, a keen edge of desperation she wasn’t used to. “Baby, we do love you, and we do want to be with you, child or no child. Do I want our baby? More than you could possibly know. This was our dream. To one day have a family. To be a family. You, me, Rhys. And our child.”

  “I should have told you,” she said softly. “Don’t you see? If I had told you, I don’t think you would have left even for the deal with Kingston. You would have taken me back to New York, fussed over me and made me see a doctor. I would have never gone so long until my appendix ruptured, and I wouldn’t have almost lost our child. Instead I played stupid games, wanting something from you that seems so unimportant in the face of our child’s life.”

  Rhys touched her hair, and she could see love brimming in his eyes. Soft and melting. She also realized it had always been there. She just hadn’t looked. She hadn’t dug far enough, hadn’t challenged him or Logan enough.

  Her meek acceptance of the status quo of their marriage put her as much at fault as it did them.

  “We could play the blame game for infinity,” Rhys said gently. “What if Logan and I hadn’t been such bastards? What if we’d shown up for our anniversary dinner and you’d told us like you’d planned? What if we’d been with you when you started feeling unwell? What if we hadn’t put our business before you?”

  “What if I hadn’t let you?” she challenged.

  Logan’s hand tightened around her leg and she looked down at him. The same love, beautiful and untarnished, shone in his dark eyes.

  “I think it’s safe to say that we all have our share of what-ifs. But baby, it won’t change the past. We can damn sure change the future, though.”

  She licked her lips and drew up her courage to ask him what had weighed on her mind and heart since that last night in Jamaica.

  “Logan, there’s something I need to ask you.”

  He stared unflinchingly back at her. “Anything.”

  His calm bolstered her, gave her such hope.

  “That last day in Jamaica, when you called Kingston. I-I overheard part of your phone conversation when I was on my way to the restaurant.”

  He cocked his head as though trying to remember as well.

  “You said that there was nothing more important to you than the deal, that there was nothing you wouldn’t do to secure it. You said the vacation wasn’t important, that it was just downtime.”

  His face grayed, and his lips tightened. Then he leaned forward until his chin rested on her knee. His arm snaked around her drawn-up legs.

  “Listen to me, baby. I won’t deny saying just that. I was furious. I was trying to impress upon Kingston how important the contract was to our business. In that moment, I would have said anything at all. I didn’t mean it.”

  “I believe you,” she said softly. And she did. She just had to know, to get it out of her mind so it wouldn’t take root, dark and insidious.

  Rhys touched her chin, his fingers gentle yet firm as he turned her toward him.

  “Do you believe we love you, Cat? Do you believe that there’s nothing we want more than you and our baby, here with us, always?”

  She dipped her head until her mouth slid across his fingertips. She kissed each one then peeked back up at him. “I do,” she said.

  “And will you stay?” Logan asked, his voice shaken and a little unsure.

  She reached for his hand then took Rhys’ and pulled them to her heart. “I love you both so much. I’ve made mistakes too. I want the chance to make things right between us again. I’ve never wanted anything other than a life with the two of you. I want to stay. I never want to be anywhere but where you are.”

  She savored the connection, the symbolism of holding their hands over her heart. Then she slid them slowly down until they covered her belly. Their family. Their connection to each other. Love. Perfect and true.

  Rhys wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He trembled against her, his body shaking as he gripped her arm fiercely.

  Logan rubbed lightly over her belly, his large hand molding to the curvature. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to the mound before turning his head to rest his cheek against her stomach.

  She smiled and let go of his hand, lowering her fingers to run through his hair. It was a picture she’d carry with her always. That one moment of discovery, that love, despite all its imperfections, was glorious above all else.

  What else could make past wrongs and hurts pale, slide silently away, forgotten and forgiven?

  Here, in her hands, her heart, pressed close to her body and soul, was all that mattered.

  Epilogue

  She loved Saturdays. Sundays too. But Saturdays seemed more special because after a long week of work, Logan and Rhys slept in.

  Today was no exception. Catherine awoke to gentle hands exploring the bulging mass of her stomach. The baby rolled beneath their fingertips, and both men grinned.

  “Good morning, princess,” Rhys said, pressing his mouth to Catherine’s belly. “You sure did keep your mama up a long time last night.”

  Catherine laughed softly. That she had. In turn, Catherine kept Rhys and Logan awake with all her flopping around.

  Logan swept his palm across one particularly noticeable protrusion. A delighted smile crossed his face when what Catherine suspected was the baby’s foot moved in response.

  “Does she ever slow down?” Logan asked in awe.

  “No,” Catherine said darkly.

  Rhys rubbed along her tightly drawn stomach. “How’s your back this morning?”

  “I haven’t moved yet, so it’s doing fine,” she said with a grimace.

  “It won’t be long now,” Logan soothed.

  She let out an unhappy sigh. “I know.”

  Rhys and Logan both cocked their head in question.

  “You don’t sound happy about that,” Rhys commented.

  She grinned ruefully. “Isn’t it ridiculous? As much bitching as I’ve done about swollen feet, aching back, leaking breasts and insane hormonal swings, I wouldn’t have traded this for the world.”

  She glanced between the two men and reached out to touch their cheeks.

  “I’ve loved being pregnant. I’ve loved having you both with me every step of the way. You’ll never know how much this has meant to me.”

  Logan’s expression darkened. “You say that as if everything will change as soon as you’re no longer pregnant.”

  She smiled and shook her head. No, she knew better. Whatever doubts she may have harbored before, the last months had proven to her that she could count on Logan and Rhys to keep their promises this time around.

  They’d worked hard to keep their business viable and thriving, but they’d worked harder to make sure she knew how important she was to them.

  “Besides, there will be other babies,” Rhys pointed out.

  Her chest tightened. Other babies. A dreamy smile poured over her lips.

  “Let’s have this one before we start thinking about knocking her up again,” Logan muttered.

  Rhys grinned, and Catherine laughed. It was a well-known fact that her pregnancy thrilled and terrified Logan in equal parts. The closer she came to her due date, the more brooding he became, and the more psychotic he got about their plan for when she went into labor.

  He’d nearly driven her and Rhys insane when he made them do a test run. He’d almost fired their driver for getting them to the hospital two minutes behind what Logan perceived to be a reasonable time.

  Never mind the harried driver would have made it with ten minutes to spare if they hadn’t been pulled over by a NYC police officer.

  “Which one of you is making breakfast?” she asked as her stomach protested the fact she hadn’t eaten dinner the night before.

  “Finally hungry?” Rhys asked.

  “You shouldn’t skip meals,” Logan said tightly.

  She rolled her eyes and shoved at Logan so she could get out of bed. A graceful departure it wasn’t. By the time she heaved her cumbersome body over the edge, with much assistance from Logan and Rhys, she was already out of breath. And despite her hopes that her back would feel better, the nagging ache hit her as soon as she took a step.

  Refusing to give in to the urge to wince and maybe whine a little, she walked slowly toward the bathroom. A long, warm bath sounded as close to orgasmic bliss as she’d come for weeks. Not that the guys wouldn’t have been more than happy to accommodate her desire for orgasms or bliss, but hell, did anyone even think of sex when they were as big as a house and grouchy as a rattlesnake?

  She closed the bathroom door, her desire for some peace and solitude, not to mention time away from their prying, over-concerned eyes, outweighing her usual joy in them fussing over her.

  When the water was drawn, she stepped in and gingerly lowered herself down into the bath. Oh sweet Jesus, had anything ever felt so good?

  She lay there, her head tilted back, eyes closed, until the water started to cool around her. Unwilling to give up the comfort of the bath yet, she flipped the stopper with her toe to allow the water to run down. Then she reached up with her other foot to start the hot water running again.

  Ahhh. Much better.

  She settled back down and grimaced as a tight pain constricted her belly. At least the baby wasn’t doing her usual kung fu moves.

  A knock on the door interrupted her absolute zero train of thought, and she frowned.

  “Honey, breakfast is almost ready, and if you don’t get out soon, you’re going to look like a prune for a week.”

  She growled and heard Rhys chuckle in response. With a contented sigh, she relaxed back into the water only to tense up as another odd ripple tightened across her belly. This one was harder than the last and it started low in her back then reached around her lower belly into her groin.

  Hell. Surely not now. She still had two weeks to go. She didn’t have a watch, so she couldn’t time them, but there was a clock by the sink.

  All lazy dullness gone, she took notice of the time on the clock and then tried to make herself relax as she waited to see if there was any regularity to her pains.

  A half hour later, she’d timed three contractions, all precisely ten minutes apart.

  Okay, nothing to panic over, and she damn sure wasn’t going to rouse Logan’s freak-out tendencies. Not yet anyway. She gripped the tub to try and haul herself upward just as another contraction hit. Damn it.

  “Logan,” she called out, knowing damn well he was lurking outside the bathroom.

  Sure enough, almost before she could get his name out, the door opened, and he burst in, a scowl on his face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “What’s with closing the bathroom door? You could have fallen, and we wouldn’t hear you.”

  She smiled and kept her tone purposely light. “Help me up?” she asked, extending her hand.

  His expression eased as he bent over the tub. He gripped her hand and put his arm behind her back to help her stand. Keeping his fingers curled tight around her hand, he helped her over the side then handed her a towel.

  “Thanks,” she said, even as another contraction centered in her abdomen. Damn, that one came out of sync with the others. Her gaze crept to the clock. Three minutes. That didn’t make a lot of sense.

  “You can go now,” she said to Logan, trying not to sound too hopeful. “I just need to do girly stuff, and then I’ll be out to eat. Tell Rhys to keep it warm for me, please.”

  He brushed his lips across her cheek and then headed out of the bathroom. She grinned at the obvious way he swung the door wide open and left it.

  She took her time brushing out her hair and securing it in a ponytail. When the next pain hit, she looked at the clock. Seven minutes. Her face scrunched into a frown. Well hell. Ten minutes, three minutes then seven minutes.

  Real labor was supposed to be regular with the time between contractions gradually lessening. Which meant she was probably just having…what? Fake ones? She almost laughed. There wasn’t anything fake about the pain.

  With a grumble, she finished dressing. Now after making such a big deal out of eating, she was going to have to figure out a reason why she’d suddenly lost her appetite.

  She’d taken a step into the bedroom when liquid seeped down her leg, soaking the maternity pants she’d pulled on. She stopped in her tracks and stared down as more liquid pooled on the floor.

  Her first thought amused her. Or maybe she was just a babbling fool in shock because the only reaction she could muster was one of extreme aggravation because now she’d have to get dressed all over again. The second thought was that she hadn’t bothered to shave her legs, and now she was most definitely going to the hospital. With hairy legs.

  “Cat, what the hell is taking you so long?” Rhys asked from the doorway. “Breakfast was on the table a half hour ago.”

  She turned to look at him. Her fear and uncertainty must have shone on her face because Rhys went from teasing aggravation to utter seriousness in two seconds flat.

  He strode across the room and cupped her elbow with his hand. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  She stared down at the puddle of water on the floor then tried to pry the wet material from the inside of her leg.

  “Oh shit. Honey, did your water break?”

  Stupid question. But she nodded anyway.

  “Oh boy,” he breathed. “Logan is going to freak.”

  She giggled and relaxed just a bit. Things were going to be fine. Rhys wouldn’t flip out on her, and between the two of them, they could handle Logan and get her to the hospital.

  “Let’s get you changed,” he said in a calm voice. “I’ll call for the driver, and I’ll send Logan down with the bag. It’ll give him something to do.”

  Twenty minutes later, Rhys helped Catherine out of the elevator and toward the door where the car was waiting. Logan was pacing outside the entrance, and when Catherine and Rhys walked out, he all but pounced on Catherine.

  She smiled as he went a bit, okay a lot, overboard as he ushered her inside the car, but she couldn’t fault how loving he was toward her and their baby. Even if he was a little overzealous.

  At the hospital, Rhys took care of checking in and the paperwork, which was just as well since he was the only calm one despite the appearance Catherine gave to the contrary.

  Inside she was a mess. A complete and utter mess. She wasn’t ready for motherhood. What the hell did she know about babies? Other than she wanted this one so badly she ached.

  Hours later as she panted between contractions and Logan and Rhys hovered nearby, she wondered why any woman ever wanted children.

  “It won’t be long now,” the doctor said as he positioned himself between her legs.

  Logan and Rhys stood on either side of her head, their hands laced with hers. They squeezed reassuringly even as she caught her breath and bore down with the next contraction.

  All the air escaped her lungs and she sagged against the pillows, her strength nearly gone.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

  Rhys leaned down and brushed her hair from her face. He kissed her tenderly. “Yes, you can. You can do anything, Cat.”

  Logan also leaned down, her hand clasped tight in his. “I know you’re tired, baby. I know you hurt. But hold on a little longer. Do what the doctor says. Think of how wonderful it will be to finally hold our daughter in your arms.”

  Her body stirred as the next contraction began low in her back. Burning, growing, and with it the undeniable urge to push.

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