Between Hawk’s meds making him drowsy and my pregnancy and emotions tiring me out, we fell asleep pretty early that night. It wasn’t a solid one on either of our parts, though. Even with medication, Hawk had the obstacle of feeling pain nearly every time he turned. And I found myself waking up periodically just to check to make sure he was okay and to confirm that everything was real. It was true…he loved me and wanted us and our baby.
I swore he might have been thinking similar thoughts when I woke for good that next morning to find him sitting up in bed and watching me with the most serene smile on his face. “It’s nice waking up with you in my bed,” he said.
“Our bed,” I amended, feeling so refreshed. “Unless moving in meant the spare bedr—”
“I asked you to move in?” He went along with my teasing tone. “Must have been the pain meds talking. Surely, I—” When I moved my hand to smack him, he yelled out, “Uh, uh, uh, wounded soldier.” When I retracted my arm and placed my lips on his, he murmured, “Mmmm-hmmm, definitely our bed.”
“Good.” I smiled. “Now, what do you think about painting the room lavender and having throw pillows scattered—”
“Oh, brother.”
I laughed at his all-male response and let him off the hook. “Just kidding.” In just the few silent seconds that followed, a sweep of emotions hit me, and I spoke them out loud. “I was so scared, Hawk. I could have dealt with you being mad at me for the rest of my life, but when Finn called and said what happened—”
“I’m fine,” he consoled, in a solid, reassuring way.
Regardless, I wiped at a damn tear. My emotions were definitely on alert. And I wondered if it was because I felt close enough to him to let them be, especially with those three special words having been spoken, or if it was the pregnancy hormones. I suspected it was a little bit of both, and I couldn’t really complain about either culprit.
“And, by the way, I was never mad at you,” he continued. “Frustrated when you wouldn’t talk with me? Yeah. But I left you when you’d just found out about the baby, and you thought I wasn’t coming back.” He paused. “I can understand how that shook you. I’m sorry.”
I felt my eyes get misty all over again. But it was true. My heart had been breaking.
“But you came back, and I didn’t listen. I kind of have a bad habit with doing that, I guess.”
I hadn’t listened to Hawk or to the doctor years before in Maryland. Both times, I should have. It would have shortened or stopped the pain altogether.
“Hmmm.”
“I love you,” I replied to his typical Hawk murmur and then realized it was the first time I’d actually said those words out loud to him. I had dittoed his declaration of love the night before with a “me, too” kind of response but never had used those words. God, did they feel good and right.
They must have to him, too because his non-traditional reply was, “Lavender like crazy then, sweetie.”
Even though I didn’t care for his current bland wall color, I was not a girly lavender gal. “No. No purples.”
I looked around at his very simplistic master bedroom. Identical white lamps resided on the identical nightstands, flanking the bed that didn’t even have a headboard. The only other thing in the room was a chest of drawers with a lantern on top. Was that perhaps a security measure from growing up in tornado alley?
“It wouldn’t hurt, though, to have some shelves with knickknacks and some artwork or photos,” I said honestly. “The rest of your place has some character. Why not in here?”
“It’s just somewhere to crash,” he said plainly. “No one sees it. If they do, it doesn’t matter.”
It brought up something we had never talked about. We had managed to know a lot about each other over the past few months. But the years after his divorce? I knew he couldn’t have been celibate, but what about other women?
My curiosity must have registered on my face because I hadn’t asked those questions out loud, yet he prompted me with, “You wanta know?”
“If you want to tell me.”
After a piercing of his eyes, he closed his lips first and then spoke. “I’ve met girls. I’ve kissed them. I’ve even slept with a few or so.”
I tried to kick away the jealous streams that were rushing through my body. I had no right. I had been living my life those years, too.
His next words softened, eased, and practically erased those feelings, though. “But there wasn’t one—not one, Maya—until being holed up in that hotel with you, who I wanted to get to know better.” He did a quick lift of his mouth and touched my healing hand.
I leaned over to kiss him and accidently rubbed against his sore, T-shirt covered side. Usually, he was a bare-chested sleeper. But I knew he didn’t want me to see the injury any more than necessary—just like he tried not to let the pain of my touch show. But the strain on his cinched eyes said it all.
“Sorry,” I said instead of the smooch.
“It’s all right. You just don’t realize how much you move until you can’t even go an inch without your side screaming out at you.”
“I know. I wanta help. How about if I make you some breakfast?”
“No, Mai, I’ll get it.”
“Hawk, am I living here or not?”
“I damn well hope so.”
“Then I can get breakfast. You take it easy.” I draped my legs off the side of his bed and started to get up.
“Nice shirt.” He spoke of his red tee I had heisted for makeshift pajamas the night before.
It happened to be the shirt he had been wearing our first night in Louisville—our first time. Before I could comment, his phone rang and he acknowledged the caller. “It’s my mom.”
“Does she know?” I questioned.
“About?”
“About the baby and your accident?”
“Baby? No. Fall?” he said, and I immediately noted how his word choice minimized the severity of what happened. “Yeah. She found out somehow. She left a message yesterday, and I texted her back that I was fine. But I haven’t had a chance to actually talk with her. I’ll get back to her.”
“Hawk! Talk to her now. If it’s anything how I was feeling, she needs to hear your voice. I’m sure she’s still worried.”
“Okay. Okay,” he partially huffed.
A little more relaxed, I asked, “Coffee?”
“Strong.” His lips twitched up for a millisecond as he winked his right eye and picked up the phone.
***
There wasn’t much food in the kitchen, and I wondered if it was because he had only done essential shopping since we had only gotten back from being gone for so long. But then I thought of my own house and realized how much I had learned to minimize since Jeff had died. Out of habit, those first couple of months I had continued to buy food as if there were still two of us. But then, consequently, I found myself throwing away rotting fresh produce when the sole survivor wasn’t able to eat it all herself.
Hawk did have coffee, though, and half and half. So I started immediately brewing, while locating mugs and spoons. The thought of drinking coffee or eating anything strong was turning my stomach. I was quickly finding out that morning sickness was not an old wives’ tale. But I was hungry, and I knew Hawk needed something in his stomach, too, especially with the meds. I found some English muffins and settled on toasting a couple of those. Then I cut up a couple bananas, and took out some cashews, chocolate chips, and honey. I would probably skip the final two but left the options open for Hawk.
Walking into the adjacent dining area, I set the food and silverware on the red and white placemats adorning the circular wood table. I had a feeling they didn’t get much use and were mostly for decoration. Hawk hobbled in, still on the phone with his mother. He tilted his head upward in my direction, in an obvious way to ask if I was all right.
When I nodded, he spoke into the phone. “Hold on, Momma.” Placing his cell momentarily on the table, he asked me, “Can I tell her about…?” His eyes dipped toward my stomach.
“Up to you.”
He planted a sweet kiss on my forehead and picked the phone back up. “Momma, are you sitting down?” After the slightest of pauses, he said, “Well, maybe you better.” I went back to pouring the coffee into his mug as he continued, “No. I said I’m fine.” And then he just told her. “Maya’s pregnant. We’re gonna have a baby.”
The ease in the way he said it—the peaceful, calm look on his face made me erase the last, tiny lingering doubt that he had any qualms about my pregnancy or our future. And that made me nearly tear up in happiness. We were complete.
I refocused on Hawk’s voice as he sat down at the table and spoke with his mom. “What do you mean you knew? I…we haven’t told anyone.” He looked up at me as I placed the coffee in front of him and then sat across the table. “But she didn’t even know then.” As he paused, listening to the phone, I started putting the pieces of the conversation, and my role in it, together. “Really?” he questioned his mother and then again after a pause said, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Looking directly at him, I prompted, “She knew? About my pregnancy?”
“Your symptoms and some kind of weird mom intuition,” he confirmed to me and then spoke to her again. “She is.” He listened before replying. “No. Why? Whatever it is, say it.” His tone with his mother had suddenly changed to agitation. “No, and I don’t want you to even think that. It’s not—”
He stopped speaking and looked at me. I knew he was trying to give me a reassuring look, but it didn’t necessarily work. It was obvious something was disturbing him about his mother’s reaction. It was concerning…not so much for me but for Hawk. I knew the level of respect he had for her. I wasn’t going to touch my food until I knew what was transpiring.
“No, we didn’t plan…but Momma, it doesn’t matter. Maya and I can’t be happier.” He listened as I nodded my head, trying to reassure him. “Yes,” he told her in a confirming kind of way. “Oh, you knew that, too?” With that comment, I could tell he was relaxing a little. But the question made me once again curious, and Hawk could tell. “How much I love you and the little bun,” he answered my non-verbal question, and I couldn’t help but internally blush. “Momma,” he started back into the phone but then seemed to have been cut off. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to—” After a few words from the other end, he said, “Okay,” and then, once again, spoke to me. “She wants to talk with you.”
I felt the rims of my eyes open. Me? Why? Feeling like I needed the support, I switched seats so I was next to, and closer to, Hawk.
“Hello?” I spoke tentatively into his phone.
“Maya, congratulations.” The voice I recalled from a few days before greeted me, but I couldn’t tell in her inflection where her emotions really settled.
“Thanks,” I answered cautiously. “You could tell I was pregnant when we were there?”
“It was a guess. Yeah. But you didn’t seem to know, and that should be something first between the man and woman.”
Huh. “I didn’t even know I could get pregnant,” I offered. “I was told I couldn’t. So it didn’t even cross my mind.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“It was a medical mix-up. My husband—”
She cut me off. “That’s all right. That’s your business. I apologize for what I said—the little, uh, warning—before you left here.”
I practically spit. It hadn’t just been my paranoia. She really had given me the momma warning. But why?
Luckily, Della continued before I had to ask. “I knew Alex was happier than I had seen him in such a long time. And if what I was guessing was right, I knew he was ready for a family. He was ready because of you. I just didn’t want him deceived into it.”
“Oh, Della, I would never do that,” I claimed instantly.
I liked Hawk’s mom more and more. She knew her son. She knew what had hurt him and didn’t want it to happen again. It had been my fear, after all, with Hawk, too.
Knowing it was his turn to be curious, I rubbed the top of Hawk’s hand and continued to speak with his mom. “And there is no need to apologize. You were looking out for your son. That’s the kind of mom I hope to be.”
“You will be, and my son will be a fantastic dad.”
“He will.” I softly smiled at the dad-to-be.
“So,” Della offered, “you’ll let me make it up to you with a real home-cooked meal sometime soon.”
I recalled her words on our departure from Oklahoma. “I’m taking your word that there will be many.”
“Get my son to visit more often,” she said with brightness, yet sincerity, in her voice.
“Well, with my folks both gone, I’ll definitely need some parenting advice and maybe some pointers on dealing with Alex.” I emphasized his birth name on purpose and “Alex” shook his head.
“Good luck.” His mom laughed in good humor.
“I’ll give the phone back to him.”
“No, that’s okay,” she said, surprisingly. “I got all kinds of people to call. They heard about his horrible accident.”
“He’s fine,” I consoled the mom in her. “Just needs some ice and TLC.”
“Don’t let him do too much.” She pegged her son. “It’s just like him.”
“I won’t,” I reassured her.
“Congratulations.” She said with even stronger, legitimate enthusiasm.
“Thanks.” I placed the phone on the table.
Hawk, finishing his sip of coffee, sassed, “Ice? That has your name written all over it.”
My laugh was loud, partly because I hadn’t thought about the ice connection and partly because it got rid of the tension I had felt initially talking with his mom. “You’re right. I was kind of looking forward to the TLC part, though.”
“Me, too.”
***
Sitting on Hawk’s doorstep was a red vase filled with red roses and white lilies. An envelope with my name was displayed prominently right in the center. Touched by the sentiment of not only the romantic red flowers but the white ones bearing my middle name, I rang the bell, readjusted the grocery bags, and put the bouquet in my other hand. I could open up the card once inside.
But he didn’t come to the door. Instead, I heard an incoming text. I placed everything back down and fished for my phone in my crossbody purse.
Open up the damn envelope, Maya. The text from Hawk read, followed quickly by, Punch bug 😉
I shook my head, knowing he was somewhere in the home watching me, and did what he said. Inside was a key—just a key. But I knew what it was for and all that it meant. I inserted it smoothly into Hawk’s front door, gaining access to his townhome—my new home. Clutching the key and, once again, gathering the items in my hands, I shut the door behind me.
“Hey….” I managed to call out, getting a little emotional from my welcome.
“Up here.” His voice traveled from the second story of the home.
I walked up the carpeted steps, put my purse and key on the kitchen counter, placed the groceries, bags and all, in the nearly empty refrigerator, and continued with my gorgeous arrangement into the bedroom. There I saw similar red rose petals beautifully decorating the white and beige bedspread. But when I went to place the flowers on top of the dresser, what I saw there made my mouth drop open…if it hadn’t been already. Next to the lantern was an ornate, white, two-spot picture frame. On the left side was a selfie Hawk and I had taken mid-summer, and on the other side was a piece of paper with the words, Future photo of Baby Brannigan.
“Welcome home.” His voice made me swirl around. Propped against the adjacent bathroom doorway, he looked more handsome than I had ever seen him, and it wasn’t because of his simple attire or because of his beard that needed trimmed. It was because of him—his words, his thoughts, his heart.
I took the quick few strides over to meet him and carefully melted into his strong torso. I couldn’t help the tears. The flowers alone already had me misty, but knowing he made the bedroom ours in such a meaningful, thoughtful way brought the real watershed.
“You didn’t need to do all of this.” I pulled slightly away and dabbed my eyes.
“I did,” he said solidly. “I want you to know for sure how much I love you and want—”
“I do.” I stopped him as a reassurance that he had nothing to prove—he had already done it ten thousand times over. As I leaned up and feathered a few kisses on his lips, he rested his right hand on my stomach, making me remember his left arm was in the sling. “You were supposed to be resting!” I recalled our deal. I had gone over to Finn and Lara’s to gather up my limited belongings, fill the Murphys in on Hawk and me, and play with the kids for a little bit. Then I went to buy some more groceries while he was supposed to nap and take it easy.
“The florist and the hardware store are about a block away from one another,” he claimed. “I already had the frame. I just didn’t have anywhere to put it and nothing to put in it…until now.”
He knew he had me, at least emotionally, on that one, but I still countered. “Rest, Hawk.”
“Bed, Maya.” His piercing eyes and slightly devilish grin emerged.
He would rest—we both would—after we made love. It was the first time since Oklahoma. It was the first time since finding out I was pregnant. It was the first time in our new home together. And what better way than surrounded by rose petals, a sentimental photo, a future photo, and, most of all, love.