Winter Wonderful (Summer Unplugged Book 7) Read online

  Winter Wonderful

  Part 7 of the Summer Unplugged Series

  Amy Sparling

  Copyright © 2015 Amy Sparling

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art from shutterstock.com

  Cover design by Amy Sparling

  First edition June 15th, 2015

  Chapter 1

  The apartment I share with my husband has a whimsical glow inside now that I’ve decorated the living room with Christmas lights. I decorated the outside patio as well, but we never get to see those. It’s entirely too cold to spend our evenings on the patio like we did in the summer. So I wanted to bring some holiday cheer inside.

  Becca would call it my Christmas Cockles.

  I have no idea what a cockle is, but she swears it’s a real thing. Says her grandparents say it when someone is extremely in the holiday spirit.

  Anyhow.

  My cockles and I hang out in the living room while Jace uses his magic to slice up the pizza he just took out of the oven. I can never slice it in a remotely decent manner. All the pepperonis slide off and push the cheese all over the place and make a mess. At least, that’s the excuse I used when I flashed him my angel eyes and asked him to do it for me.

  “Now that we’re almost parents, we probably shouldn’t eat pizza like three nights a week,” I say as I spin around the living room with my arms up, basking in the glow of the multi-colored lights. I had turned off the main light when Jace went into the kitchen. Now everything is shadowy and colorful.

  Our Christmas tree, however, is not colorful. Jace likes the clear lights for trees, says it makes the tree look more beautiful that way. I tend to get my way with everything around here, so I let him have that, those silly clear lights, just to see him smile.

  “Nonsense,” Jace says, reaching up into the cabinet and taking out two plates. “Pizza has grains in the dough, tomatoes in the sauce and protein in the pepperonis. Oh, and dairy in the cheese. It’s practically a perfect combination of the food pyramid.”

  I roll my eyes. “Well, when you look at it that way…”

  He looks awfully proud of himself for coming up with that elaborate excuse to make pizza seem healthy. He puts two slices on each plate and hands me one. “You still want water and not a delicious Coke?”

  “Why do you have to say it like that?” I ask, placing a hand on my chest and making myself look terribly offended. “Of course I want water. I gave up caffeine months ago for our unborn son.”

  He gives me a sideways look to show me that he’s skeptical. “I was just testing you.”

  “You’re not going to catch me in a lie, Mr. Adams.”

  “Oh, you’ve done it now,” he says, dropping his pizza and diving toward me. I cower into as much of a ball as I can fit my big pregnant self into and bury my head in my hands. It’s no use though. Despite playing dead on my end, he still tickles me, right over my ribcage where I’m the most ticklish.

  Jace still isn’t over the event that happened at his work last week. While he was training a new client, a twelve year old boy, the kid thanked him and called him the worst name ever. Mister.

  The kid had said “Thanks Mr. Adams” a million times, at least that’s how Jace had explained it to me when he came home ranting and raving about how he is not old and he can’t believe someone called him that.

  So yeah, making fun of the more mature version of his name is my favorite pastime now. But now I’m dying from being tickled and it briefly occurs to me that it’s weird how something that makes you laugh is also considered a form of torture. This. Freaking. Sucks.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I squeal as I try to writhe out of his fingers.

  “I forgive you,” he says. Finally, he relents and slides his hands up and down my arms, leaning in behind me to kiss my hair.

  He’s been doing that a lot lately—holding me by the arms instead of wrapping his hands around my stomach. Although he hasn’t said anything about it, I’m pretty sure it’s because I hate when anything draws attention to my big, huge, belly. So what if I’m nine months pregnant. It’s still awkward and I hate waddling around all day. I hate the thought that I’ve gained weight more than just the baby. I have recurring nightmares that after he’s born, I’ll suddenly weigh five hundred pounds and Jace will hate me.

  Maybe it’s just the pregnancy hormones or whatever, but damn have I become a nightmare factory. My dreams focus on two topics: Jace leaving me or something terrible happening to our baby.

  God I hope it’s just the hormones.

  I scarf down the pizza, telling myself it’s just for now, just until the baby arrives and then I’ll go back to eating healthier. Plus I’ll have a child to run after and take care of and hopefully that will keep me active and help me get back into shape. We watch TV while cuddled on the couch and I let my mind wander into unfamiliar territory: motherhood.

  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how to be a mother. Sadly, just being pregnant teaches you absolutely nothing about raising a child. We have the crib and the stroller and the car seats. The tiny baby socks and enough clothing for the first year. We have a Great Wall of Diapers that lines one side of the hallway, thanks to a ridiculous diaper shower my best friend Becca had thrown for me a few months ago.

  We had just returned from our honeymoon of traveling around in a private jet, and Becca surprised me with a handful of our friends and family (mostly people from the motocross track) and they all had diapers for us. Since I had gone on a little bit of a shopping spree myself, buying everything I’d need, there was really no point in having a traditional shower where people brought normal baby gifts. I had everything. Name it, I have it. If any baby store within a fifty feet radius had a baby product, you better believe I own it.

  That’s one of the things I love about Becca. She’s smart in a way that surpasses other people’s best friends. She knew I wouldn’t want people giving me outfits and toys they had picked out simply because I’m so ridiculously picky about things, so she arranged a way for me to get exactly what I needed. I’m so glad she’s dating Park now. After Jace had what can only be considered a fatherly talk with his best friend about how he better not hurt Becca and better treat her right, things got really good for those two. It’s like Park realized what he had in a girl like Becca and he knew he didn’t want to let her go.

  So far he hasn’t. And Jace would kill him if he did. At least...he’d try to. I’d kill him first.

  My head rests on Jace’s shoulder and I tuck my fingers underneath his upper arm, snuggling it to me as if his muscles were a pillow. It’s Friday, the night before Christmas Eve, and Fridays are always a night where we stay up late and catch up on all the recorded shows we had missed during the week.

  For some reason, I am incredibly tired tonight. Jace is warm and his t-shirt is soft as I rest on it, closing my eyes. At some point I am aware of him leaning over and kissing the top of my head while his thumb runs back and forth over my knee. But then, I drift off to sleep.

  The television is still on when my eyes open. It must not have been long because the same hour-long show is still playing on the TV. Jace is looking at his cell phone, clearing out all of his missed notifications.

  I peer up at him and he gives me a smile. Then everything—everything—changes.

  “Babe?” I ask through gritted teeth. “What’s a contraction supposed to feel like?”

  �
��You’re asking me because I have all this vast personal knowledge of giving childbirth?”

  I throw a couch pillow at him and rise to my feet. Without thinking, I start pacing the area right in front of the television. My thoughts are going a mile a minute. “It’s just that in all those doctor visits we had, they told us to make sure to go to the hospital when the contractions are five minutes apart and all that, but they never told us what it actually feels like.”

  Jace cocks his head to the side and slides his phone back in his jeans pocket. “I’d imagine it’s just really painful, like in the movies. Why are you asking that now?”

  “Because,” I say, but then the pain soars through my abdomen and I can’t finish my sentence for a few seconds. “Because I think I’m having one right now.”

  Chapter 2

  “Oh shit, oh shit.” Jace grabs my wrists, stopping my pacing in front of the TV. His eyes go wide, almost hysterical in his excitement. “We’re about to have a baby.” He smiles. Like this is the greatest thing in the world. I glare at him. “What?” he asks.

  I take in a deep breath and head toward the couch, wondering when the next contraction will come. It was painful, yes, but it was awkward and scary too. I’m not sure I can survive through more of these things. Jace joins me.

  “Babe, why are you giving me that look?”

  “Because you are not allowed to stand there and get all excited about a baby.” I make air quotes when I say the last word. I put a hand on my stomach. “This thing is not even close to being here. I still have to suffer these contractions until they’re five minutes apart and then we have to go to the hospital, and God knows how long labor will take, and what if there’s an emergency and they have to rush me off and cut me open and—yeah, Jace. You don’t get to be excited yet! This is terrifying!”

  My husband’s face is a mixture of emotions ranging from fear to worry to that stupid look of adoration that he usually gets when I’m yelling at him. I shake free from his grasp, grit my teeth and glare even harder at him.

  He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a big, pregnant hug, resting his chin on top of my head. “Everything that happens from here on out will become a part of the story we will tell Jett about the day he was born.”

  I swallow, focusing on my breathing. “You’re right. I want it to be a good story.” Not one where his mom is raging around being a crazy hormone monster and yelling at his dad. That’s not the story anyone wants to hear. I draw in another slow breath and then release it.

  I take my phone from the coffee table and open the timer app, starting it a couple minutes too late since I’ve already had one contraction.

  Jace takes a step backward and holds my hands. “So what do we want to do while we wait?”

  I look around our apartment, with it’s beautiful glowing Christmas Cockles, three stockings hung up over the fireplace, and warm cozy blankets on the couch. I can’t even lie—I’ve spent the last couple of weeks getting some serious television watching on while cuddling with my blankets. At nine months pregnant, there’s really nothing else to do.

  “I say we watch TV.”

  Jace plops down on the couch, extending his arm across the back of the cushions as an open invitation for me to come sit next to him. “Sounds good to me.”

  I take the remote and give him a sly smile. “But…I think this shouldn’t be just any old TV watching day.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I go to the DVR and find all the shows I’ve recorded to watch while Jace is at work because he hates them so much. “I think Jett would love to hear the story about the night he was born and how his daddy let his mommy watch all of her favorite shows because he loved her so much and he didn’t mind one bit.”

  “Oh my God,” Jace groans, throwing his head back against the couch. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

  My smirk is as big as my belly. I press play on my favorite reality show about a failing hair salon. “Yup.”

  “Six minutes and fifteen seconds,” Jace says. He restarts the timer on my phone and rubs my back, because I guess it makes him think he’s helping me feel better but he couldn’t be more wrong. These contractions are a total bitch! No amount of back rubs will take away the pain that is searing through my lower abdomen, but I don’t tell him that. I let him continue thinking he’s being helpful.

  “Should we go to the hospital now?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not even close to five minutes apart. It’s been three hours…I think we’re fine.”

  Jace frowns but he doesn’t say anything. We’ve been watching reality shows for the last three hours and timing my contractions. They’re slowly getting closer together but at this rate, it might take throughout the night, right? Anyway, I don’t want to be in the hospital. I want to be home with Jace, not on an uncomfortable bed in a blindingly white sterile room full of strangers.

  “Doctor Qi said five minutes. We’re waiting until five minutes.”

  “But it takes twenty minutes to get to the hospital so we should leave slightly before they’re five minutes apart that way when we get there it’ll be exactly five minutes.”

  “I’m pretty sure my doctor calculated in the time to get to the hospital when he said five minutes.”

  Jace lets out a massive sigh and kisses the top of my hair again. He’s been doing that a lot lately. I’m not sure if it’s to make me feel better or to make himself feel better. Then it dawns on me that it’s definitely the latter. Jace spends so much effort reassuring me anytime I’m upset about anything. He’s always there. He’s always been my rock, my place of loyalty. Jace doesn’t freak out. Jace doesn’t need help or comfort or reassurance.

  Unless, maybe he does.

  I untangle myself from the throw blankets and scoot closer to him on the couch. In the old days, before I was a whale, I could toss my feet over his, slide my arms around his neck and pull myself into his lap in about three seconds flat. It was effortless. Now…that’s a different story. I actually stand up first, lean over, and kind of fall into him. I’m not exactly in his lap, but I’m close.

  Jace’s arms go around me on instinct, but he’s watching the TV with a zoned-out expression in his eyes. Faint creases stretch across his forehead, signs of stress on his otherwise gorgeous face. I take his head in my hands and turn him to where he’s looking at me.

  “Honey,” I begin. This makes him snap out of whatever thoughts had been going through his head.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern filling his eyes. I laugh on the inside. This is so like Jace. Always worried about me and never worried about himself.

  “Honey,” I say again, holding his cheeks in my hands as I look into his eyes. “We are about to have a baby and it’s going to be awesome. You are going to be the greatest dad in the whole world, which won’t mean anything compared to how great of a mom I will be, but that’s beside the point. Everything’s going to be fine and we’re going to remember this night for the rest of our lives. I need you to stop worrying, honey. We’ve got this under control.”

  He takes my hand and kisses it. A smile softens the lines in his face. “You sure about that?”

  I nod. “Women have been having babies for a bazillion years. In fact, the entire human race has been dependent on that very fact.” Jace laughs and I lean forward and kiss him. “And that was before Doctor Qi and hospitals and all the fancy technology we have now. We’re gonna be fine.”

  His head tilts to the side and he pulls me closer to him until I’m snuggled against his face. “Thanks,” he murmurs into my ear. I hold onto him as if my life depends on it. I take in his smell, the woodsy scent of his cologne and the freshness of the clean shirt he put on after his shower. In these few seconds, everything feels calm and perfect. Somehow, my speech made me feel better, too. It’s true, the whole women having babies thing. We will be fine.

  It’s still terrifying.

  “Oh mother of hell,” I screech between clenched tee
th as another contraction pulls at my insides. It’s very unsettling to have something going on in your body that you can’t control.

  Jace grabs the phone. “That was five minutes and three seconds. Please say we can go to the hospital now.”

  I nod through the pain and climb off of him. “Let me pee first,” I say as I skip-run to the bathroom. The last thing I want is to pee all over myself in the middle of the highway during a bad contraction. Jace would probably never forgive me for doing that in his precious truck.

  When I return, Jace has both of our Go Bags hauled over his shoulder and the TV is off and his truck keys are in his hand. Just seeing him like that gives me chills. “This is happening,” I say with what I think is a smile on my face.

  He nods and opens the front door. “Next time we’re in this living room there will be another person with us.”

  Chapter 3

  I’ve never been afraid of Jace’s driving. And that’s saying a lot because the guy has spent his entire life racing dirt bikes so reckless driving and speed are two of his greatest talents. But now, as we soar down Interstate 45 to the hospital, I find myself gripping the door handle and holding on for dear life.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, glancing over quickly before gliding the truck into the left lane.

  “Just praying to every God in the universe to please get us there safely.”

  I must have looked really scared because Jace lets off the gas and reaches over for my hand. “Sorry.”

  I glance at the speedometer and watch the orange needle fall from the high eighties into a more legal high seventies. Even though the speed limit is sixty-five. “We’re not in that much of a rush babe.”

  “That’s not what you said when you were having a contraction a few minutes ago,” Jace says. I shrink back in embarrassment. I might have yelled a few expletives and demanded that he practically teleport me to the hospital right freaking now. But that was during a contraction. I am a different person in those few seconds.