Listed: Volume VI (7 page)

She
snorted against his shirt. “I guess.” She lifted her head and met his eyes. “I
know it’ll be fine, Paul. I was just feeling kind of weird and lonely in class
today.”

“I
know.” He stroked her hair when she leaned her head back on this chest.

They
sat together in silence for several minutes, Paul holding her as the voices on
the television babbled on incomprehensibly.

After
a while, she lifted her head and kissed him on the lips.

“What
was that for?” he asked, since it had felt more like a gesture than a sexual
advance.

She
frowned. “Why do I need a reason to kiss you?”

“You
don’t. It just seemed like there was a reason.”

“Just
because I love you.”

“That’s
a good enough reason for me.” He pulled her into his lap so he could kiss her
more deeply.

The
kiss was very nice, and his body was getting some definite ideas. So when he
tore his lips away, he asked, “Are you still sore?”

“Yes,”
she admitted, stroking his neck with her fingers in a way that made him want to
howl. “A little. But maybe if you’re gentle, we could…”

“I
can be gentle.” He leaned his forehead against hers and tried not to let the
building tension in his groin cause him to buck up against her weight.

She
paused on her way into another kiss. Her voice broke as she whispered, “I know
how gentle you can be.”

He
kissed her hungrily and was just getting into it when she suddenly broke away.
“Oh! I have a great idea!”

“For
sex?” he asked, confused and disoriented as she scrambled off his lap.

“No,
this is something else. But it’s a great idea.”

“I
thought sex was a great idea.” His body was definitely feeling her loss.

“That
can wait for a minute.” She stood up and ran over to a desk on the other side
of the room. Her worn jeans emphasized the lush curve of her ass. Her blonde
hair was rumpled, and her neckline was askew. And she was completely absorbed
in whatever she was looking for in the drawer.

He
loved her more than anything in the world.

“Ah
ha!” she exclaimed, straightening up and holding a pad of paper and pen
victoriously.

“What
are we going to do with that?” Try as he might, he couldn’t figure out how
paper and pen would be a good accessory for any kind of sex he wanted to engage
in.

She
ran back over to sit beside him. “We’re going to make a new list. One for both
of us. What we want to do. For the rest of our lives.” She beamed at him.

Despite
the pulsing of his arousal, he couldn’t help but smile at her fondly.

“Do
you think that’s a good idea?” she asked, peering at him closely.

“Yes.
It’s a good idea.” He let out a breath, trying to will his arousal down. “I
thought sex was a good idea too, but…”

Emily
laughed and pulled him into a hug, accidentally poking him in the back with the
pen. “How about sex first. Then we make a new list for us.”

Paul
thought—and told her—that this was an excellent plan.

The last time Emily had
felt so miserable she’d been sure she was going to die.

Now,
she was slammed with a wave of heat, pain, and intensity. She closed her eyes to
breathe through it, her hand tightening on the arm rest in the backseat of the
chauffeured car. She tried desperately to keep Paul from seeing how horrible it
was.

When
the wave finally subsided, she peeked out through her lashes.

Paul
was glaring at her.

He
looked stunningly handsome in his tailored tux, with the bow tie slightly
loosened from where he must have run a restless hand along his collar. His face
was a little pale though, and his gray eyes were narrowed over what she knew
was intense anxiety.

“I’m
fine,” she gritted out, partly because she was annoyed by his silent reproach
and partly because she wanted to ease his worry.

“You
should have told me,” he said, not for the first time that evening. His voice
was slightly thick.

Emily
fidgeted with her emerald necklace—the one Paul had given her on their wedding
day six years ago. She wore an evening gown of silvery silk that draped
flatteringly over her curves, but she wasn’t comfortable in it at the moment.
She really wanted to get it off. “If I’d told you earlier, then we wouldn’t
have gone to the banquet. And there was no way I was going to miss a banquet in
my husband’s honor. It’s not every day your husband is appointed CEO of a
company before he’s even thirty.” She stuck out her chin, so he would know she
was serious.

“The
damned banquet wasn’t that big a deal, and it certainly wasn’t worth—” He broke
off his words when Emily was hit by another wave of heat and pain. He reached
over and took her hand, letting her cling desperately to his as she tried to
breathe.

The
chauffeur was driving much faster than usual, since Paul had emphasized how
important it was that they reach the hospital as soon as possible. Emily tried
not to look out the window at the way they were weaving through traffic, since
she was afraid it would make her feel nauseous.

She
already felt bad enough.

When
she was able to speak again, she gasped, “How long did that one last?”

“Sixty-five
seconds,” Paul replied. She hadn’t noticed him looking at his watch, but he
must have been doing so. “And they’re less than three minutes apart. We should
have been at the hospital at least an hour ago.”

“I
didn’t want to go then. I wanted to finish your banquet.”

“Who
cares about the silly banquet?” Paul grumbled, gently brushing some stray
pieces of hair away from her damp face. She’d put it in a French twist earlier
than evening, but her elegant hairdo was starting to fall down now.

“
I
do,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in the backseat of the limo. “I’m so
proud of you.” She suddenly felt ridiculously emotional and was afraid she
might cry.

Another
wave of agony overwhelmed her before she could, and she couldn’t do anything
but try to focus on breathing, her vision blurring over with pain and
intensity.

It
was absolutely horrible, but it wasn’t like what she’d suffered six years ago.
The sensations now were full, heavy, with a knowable pattern, rather than the
empty, endless agony of being burned alive from a fever.

And
she wasn’t going to die at the end of this.

When
she could speak again, she turned to Paul and asked weakly, “Can you help me
get my jewelry off? It's bothering me.”

Without
comment, Paul gently helped her take off her necklace, the emerald earrings
he’d bought her shortly after their marriage, and the bracelet he’d given her
on her eighteenth birthday.

She
held her heavily rounded belly and prayed she hadn’t waited too long to tell
Paul she was in labor. She’d felt the contractions begin that afternoon, but
she hadn’t said anything, thinking maybe they were Braxton-Hicks. When it was
time to get ready for the banquet, she was pretty sure she was in labor for
real, but the contractions weren’t very painful, and they were still fairly far
apart. She'd been determined not to get to the hospital too early, since she
didn't want to stay there for hours or be told it was too soon and that she needed
to go back home.

The
contractions intensified dramatically during the banquet, however, and she’d
had a hard time disguising them during the last half-hour when Paul was giving
his speech.

She’d
seen him watching her, even as he was standing at the podium in front of a huge
ballroom full of guests, and she wasn’t surprised when the first thing he’d
done afterwards was put his hand on her forehead to check for fever.

That
was when she’d told him they needed to go to the hospital since she was going
into labor two weeks early.

“I
thought first babies were supposed to come late rather than early,” she
muttered, trying to relax and prepare for the next contraction, which she knew
would come at any moment.

“We
always did defy expectations,” Paul said, smiling at her with a tender look she
knew he only gave to her.

She
returned the look, but only for a few seconds, since another contraction hit
just then. When it was over, Emily was uncomfortably aware that either her
water had broken or she’d just peed all over herself. All over the backseat of
the fancy car.

She
gave a little sob. “Maybe I waited too long. I’m sorry.”

“We’re
almost there, baby,” Paul murmured. “Just hold on.”

They
were
almost there.  When they arrived at the hospital, they discovered
she was well into the transition phase and dilated almost nine centimeters.

Less
than an hour later, she gave birth to their son.

***

“I’m sorry I waited so
long to tell you,” Emily said, feeling weak and kind of giddy. “I should have
told you earlier.”

Paul
was sitting next to her bed in the quiet hospital room. He was still wearing
the trousers and dress shirt from his tux, but his collar was hanging open and
he’d pushed up the sleeves to the elbow.

She
could see that he’d been wearing the cufflinks she’d given him on their wedding
day—the Spanish Damoscene cufflinks with the horse and rider in black and gold.
The sight, even now, gave her a warm, silly feeling of possession. Like they
branded Paul as hers.

He
shook his head. “Do you really think I care about that now?” His eyes strayed
to the door of the room, through which their baby had disappeared a little
while ago for a short trip to the nursery.

“I
thought the labor would last a lot longer,” she explained. “That's what
everyone had told me. I didn’t expect everything to happen so quickly.”

“Emily,”
Paul said, his eyes narrowing in the way they did when he was exerting
authority, “Stop stressing about it.”

“Okay.”
She smiled at him fatuously. “I love you.”

Paul
gave a huff of amusement, but his eyes were soft as he said, “I love you too.”

“Can
you go find him and bring him back?” she asked, her eyes focused on the door to
the room as well. She’d held their baby for almost an hour and even started to
breastfeed him, but it still didn’t seem fair that they’d taken him away to the
nursery for exams so soon after she’d gotten him.

Paul
stood up. She had a feeling he wanted their baby back too. “I’ll see what I can
do.”

She
had to wait less than ten minutes before Paul returned to the room with their
son.

“Everything’s
good,” he said, reaching out to put the baby in Emily’s arms, “Jonathan’s
perfectly healthy.”

Emily
felt like an absolute sap, but she didn’t even care at the moment. She cooed
over Jonathan for a long time, trying to resist the impulse to wake him up so
she could see his pretty eyes.

He
was her father’s namesake, and Emily wished little Jonathan could have known
his grandfather. His other grandfather was still in prison and was likely to
remain there the rest of his life.

Paul
went to visit him regularly now. They weren’t close, but they were almost like
family.

Prompted
by that thought, she looked over at Paul. He was staring down at Jonathan with
a look she’d never seen on his face before—a mingling of joy, bewilderment, and
awe.

“Are
you okay?” she asked.

Paul
nodded. It took him a minute to get the words said, but he finally managed.
“You were my miracle. I didn’t think I would get two.”

Emily
insisted later that the only reason she cried was because she was so exhausted
after labor and delivery. If Paul believed otherwise, he didn't try to
contradict her.

When
she’d wiped the tears away, she gave Paul a wry look and asked, “Do you have
our list?”

Always
prepared, Paul went to retrieve a folded piece of paper on which were written
twenty items, only three of which were crossed off.

He
spread out the paper in front of her and put a pen down next to it. Then he
took Jonathan out of her arms and held the baby so she could sit up and grip
the pen.

She
grinned at Paul, who smiled back, looking incongruously natural with a baby in
his arms.

And,
together, they crossed off another item from their list.

The following scenes are from an early draft of
Chapter One. I’d originally started the book earlier than the marriage
proposal, but the scenes ended up being too disorienting and so I moved the
information in them into exposition in the marriage proposal scene. But I still
liked the scenes, and I thought some of you might be interested in reading
them—as they flesh out some of the earlier encounters between Emily and Paul.

Some of the information and dialogue I moved into
later scenes, so it may sound familiar.