Changing Lines (Bellevue Bullies Book 5) Read online

  “I’m just so tired of this. I feel like such a failure. I can’t even do the one thing I was put on this earth to do. Procreate!”

  “Pretty sure that’s not the only thing, Claire. I mean, look at what you’ve done for the kids at the dance studio, the shelter. For me. Claire, I would be lost without you.”

  She shakes her head. “No, I’m bringing you down. I can’t even give you a baby, carry on your name or anything. I’m worthless.”

  I close my eyes. Her words hurt. I grab her by her shoulders, whipping her around so our eyes meet. “Stop this right fucking now.”

  “You don’t understand how I feel!”

  “The fuck I don’t, Claire. I can’t get you pregnant—apparently the one thing you want more than anything! How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”

  “It’s not only you,” she screams, her eyes wild. “It’s all me. They took your sperm, shoved it in my egg, and nothing. Fucking nothing! I don’t feel like a woman. I feel like a waste of space. I don’t even know why you’re staying with me.”

  My eyes narrow into slits, and I know I should walk away. She’s not thinking; she’s just upset. I should let us both cool down, but I refuse to let her keep feeling that way. “So, you’re saying a waste of space completes me? That a waste of fucking space brings me more joy than a sheet of ice? That my day starts and ends with thoughts of you. I feel like a newlywed, Claire, because I love you so fucking much.”

  “I don’t deserve it,” she mutters, shaking her head.

  “You deserve it all,” I stress, squeezing her shoulders. “This waste of space you claim to be is about to be a mother to a kid whose parents do not want him. He is about to have a good life because you want him. He’s not even here, you’re not even growing him, and you love him. So, I’m sorry, but you’re not a fucking waste of space! This is a step backward in the baby-making department, but not in how much I love you or need you in my life, Claire. Not in how much River Phillip, or whatever the hell his name is going to be, needs you.”

  Her lip quivers as a sob leaves her chest. “I don’t want to let you down.”

  “You’re not,” I urge, taking her face in my hands. “The only way you let me down is by speaking of yourself like that. I love you. I love you so damn much. I don’t need anything but you. Kids are added bonuses ’cause I get to watch you be a mom and fall in love with you all over again.”

  Her hand covers mine as I try to wipe her tears away. “I love you, Jude.”

  I kiss her then. Hard and with all of myself as we cling to each other. As we part, I slide my nose along hers, kissing and moving my lips with hers. “I love you, Claire. We are okay. It’s not even a for-real negative.”

  “The test says it can tell five days sooner.”

  “The test is shit, and I don’t care what it says. Until the doctor tells me no, then I’m not going to stress. Wanna know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because, in all honesty, it doesn’t matter. We tried again because we could. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, then we try again or find a surrogate. When you’re done with it all, then we’re done. But during all that time, we’ll be raising our son.”

  Her eyes are swimming in tears as she nods. She swallows hard as she leans into me, kissing my top lip. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I agree as I kiss her once more, and then I hear her phone ringing. “Is that your phone?”

  She lets me go to rush to it. “Tristan? Hey!” I watch as her eyes widen. “You’re at seven, and they just broke your water? Oh my God. We’re on the way.”

  She hangs up the phone and then looks at me, fear, excitement, and nerves floating in her blue depths. “Tristan went in for a checkup and has apparently been contracting all night. She’s at seven. We gotta go.”

  I feel a little dizzy. “Ten is when the baby comes?”

  “Yup,” she says, grabbing the bag she’s packed for the baby. She looks back at me, her brows shooting up. “Let’s go.”

  “Get our baby.”

  Her eyes light up. “Yeah.”

  She reaches for my hand, and I take hers.

  And we leave to go meet our son.

  When Claire opens the door and I see a screaming Tristan on the other side, my stomach drops. I thought this would go slowly, but apparently, from what Claire gathered on the way here, there wasn’t time for drugs, and Tristan is about to do this all natural. Not sure how I feel about that, but it isn’t my body or my choice. I just want her and the baby to be safe. From the sounds of it, I don’t know if that’s gonna happen.

  God bless her, this must hurt, because her screaming is at a level I’ve never heard before. Claire rushes to Tristan’s side quickly as the nurse asks for our names and verifies who we are. As I get a name tag slapped on my shirt, I look around the room to find only staff, Tristan, and Claire. I was sort of hoping Tristan’s mom would have shown up, but Claire wasn’t really sure if Tristan had told her mom or not. Maybe she’s in the waiting room where our lawyer is waiting.

  Holy shit. This is really happening.

  Claire is on it, holding Tristan’s hand as I stand there like a complete idiot. Things are moving around me, they’re setting up a table, and there is a lot of talking around the screaming. Tristan looks terrified and sweaty. Claire is stunning and ready to take charge. Then there’s me, just standing here.

  “Scoot to the edge of the table.”

  Tristan does as the doctor asks, and I get one hell of a view of a vagina that is not my wife’s. I let out a little cry of distress before I rush to the other side of Tristan. “Just saw more of you than I wanted.”

  “And I don’t even care,” she yells, and I nod as she suddenly takes my hand. “I don’t care what you see or feel. I need you to hold my hand.”

  “Done.”

  It all goes so damn fast. Everyone is moving, Tristan is screaming, Claire is a supportive rock star, and I feel lost. This woman isn’t my wife, and I feel awful for her. She’s all alone. She only has us, and she’s giving us her baby. Something clicks inside me, and I jump into action. I hold her leg, her hand, and tell her how strong she is. I thank her as the tears fall from her eyes, and then she starts to push.

  “You’re doing so awesome, Tris. You’re almost there,” Claire urges, and when our eyes meet, my heart swells. She’s so excited. So beautiful. Jesus, I love her.

  “You got this, Tristan. You’re kicking ass,” I cheer, and then I hear it.

  The cry.

  One from Tristan and then one from the bloody, wiggly little human she expelled from her body. The doctor holds up my son and shows us. Tears gather in my eyes as my body shakes with nerves. That’s my son. I look at Claire just as she looks at me, and soon, we’re both crying.

  He’s perfect.

  The doctor goes to lay him on Tristan’s chest, but she stops him. “No, his mom wants to do skin-to-skin.”

  His mom.

  I’m his dad.

  The doctor doesn’t miss a beat and nods before I’m handed some scissors. Through tears, I cut the cord, and when I look at Claire, she’s taking off her shirt with no cares in the world. They wipe him down and then hand him to Claire, his face resting against her chest as he cries. I wasn’t so sure about this skin-to-skin thing, but Claire is all about it, and apparently it’s good since his cries are slowing down.

  I walk around the bed to Claire, and I wrap my arms around her as we look down at him. We’re both sobbing messes, but even so, we have grins on our faces. His eyes are a dark brown with a head full of dark brown hair. From what Tristan said, his birth father is of Latin American descent. Our boy’s got olive skin and is freaking adorable. Chunky little thing. I move my finger along his cheek, and one thing is for sure.

  I’m completely in love with him.

  Claire looks up at me, and her beautiful blue eyes glisten with tears. To see her there, holding a baby and looking like she’s won the lottery, I just knew it. I lean into her, and I kiss her forehe