Shattered & Mended (16 page)

Twenty

~Allie~

My checkup went great. The babies are measuring on schedule, and their hearts are beating strong. I had another ultrasound, and my cervix seems to be holding up well, thanks to the cerclage. Dr. Wilters still recommends pelvic rests, which means no sex. If he only knew how angry one gets from cock deprivation
, I guarantee he’d reconsider. He said that if I make it to thirty-four weeks, he’ll remove the stitch and let things progress naturally. However, he did schedule me to have a C-section at thirty-seven weeks. And since I had the steroids, the babies’ lungs seem to be a little ahead of schedule, which is wonderful. He feels it’s safe to deliver them a bit early. Only six weeks to go, and we should have our little bundles of joy in our arms.

Blake blew me away with announcing he took time off work for two days, and as much as I’d like to believe it was because of me, I know it’s due to his parents being in town. Just when I thought he was taking me home so he could spend quality time with his family, he tells me he’s made plans for us to meet them for a late lunch. He’s been driving for at least fifteen minutes in the wrong direction. If we’re meeting them at one of the local restaurants, he needs to turn around. “B, I thought we were grabbing something to eat?” He reaches over and rests his hand on top of my belly. “We are, promise. I’ve got to stop by Carson’s and drop off his jacket he left at work,” he winks. 

Carson? I miss him. “Can he come with us? Please,” I beg, pouting my lips.

“Are you kidding me? How can I say no to that?” He leans over and gives my lips a swift kiss. “Hey, now, take that smile down a little. I’m appalled at how excited you are to meet up with another man,” he jokes.

“Oh, hush, you know Carson’s no man … at least, not to me,” I laugh. He appears manly on the outside, but he’s the bitchiest friend I’ve ever had. 

A few moments later, we pull up to an immaculate Cape-Cod style home. As he creeps up the driveway, we end at a two-car garage, possibly larger. The home is white with black shutters and a wraparound porch. On the porch, there are three white, wooden rocking chairs, and the landscaping is beautiful, even for winter. Blake comes around to my side and helps me out of the car. We’re having to drive my Civic around because I can’t climb into his big-ass truck any longer. Getting in and out of any car’s an obstacle, but it’s easier to get out of a vehicle when your feet can actually touch the ground. 

“Are you sure this is his house? Who does he live with? It’s freaking huge.” There aren’t any cars here, and it’s eerily quiet, except for the birds chirping and wind blowing.

“Yes, I’m sure. Come on, Momma, get your sexy ass up these steps,” Blake encourages, taking my hand and helping me up to the porch.

“Why are you pulling out your keys? Wait. Why do you have keys to his house?” He inserts a key and unlocks the door. He gestures me inside and places himself behind me, resting his hands on either side of my hips as if he’s trying to prevent a fall.

Reluctantly, I step inside. As soon as I flip the switch to turn on the lights, I piss myself, again. Mother. Fucker … Everyone and their cousins jump out and scream ‘SURPRISE’! I got a surprise all right, and it’s leaking down my legs! I turn around and hide my fire-engine red face into Blake’s chest. Embarrassed, I look to him, and he looks confused.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” He’s almost a foot taller than I am, so of course he has no idea what I’ve done, but I’m sure everyone else does.

“I pissed my pants,” I mumble into his shirt. He lifts my face up and furrows his brows. I use my eyes to lead him to my pissy pants. It takes a few nods before he realizes where I’m guiding him. Immediately, he jumps in front of me in attempt to block my embarrassment. I rest my head against his back and wish myself invisible. 

“Lucille, can you come here for a minute?” Blake calls across the room. Great. Just fucking fantastic! Gather more attention this way. My mom jostles her way through the crowd, and Blake whispers something in her ear. Mom walks past me trying hard to contain her laughter.

“Go ahead, laugh it out.” I begin to cry. Dammit! Why can’t I control these damned tears? I cry over everything. I cry over food. I cry because I can’t see to shave my pubes. I cry when I’m happy, and in this case, utterly embarrassed. 

At the sound of Carson’s voice, I peek under Blake’s arm. He’s in normal clothes and looks fabulous. He’s wearing skinny jeans, a sheer purple V-neck tee, and Vans. He’s waving his hands in the air, motioning the guests into a back room in the opposite direction from me. “Go on people, nothing here to see. Sheesh, hasn’t anyone ever told y’all you’re not supposed to surprise a pregnant lady? Whose idea was this, anyways?” he complains.

“It was yours,” Blake tells him.

“Shit. It was,” Carson frowns. 

Carson walks over to Blake and pushes him aside. “Come on, girlfriend. Don’t let a little pee ruin your party. Did you bring any clothes?” he asks. I shake my head, but Blake breaks in and tells Carson that my mom went to grab them.

“I’m prepared,” he shrugs. “I’m not home much, and I wanted to have your bag ready in case something happened.” This is why I love this man. Always thinking of others and making sure they’re content.

I lean up on my tiptoes and pull him down to me. “Thank you,” I whisper against his lips.

“Anytime.” 

I change into a pair of polka dot pajama pants and a too-small tank top. My breasts threaten to spill from the top, and the hem barely reaches my belly button. As I make my way out of the bathroom, I receive a lot of ‘aww, how cute’, ‘look at that cute belly’, and ‘awwww, can I touch it?’ There’s nothing cute about it! I join Blake, Carson, Mom, and Clair in the dining room. There are more people here, but I don’t know them. My guess is they’re either Blake’s, Carson’s, or Mom’s friends or co-workers. 

Blake pulls out a chair, and I take a seat. Clair and Mom reach into the middle of the table and uncover a gorgeous two-tier cake. The frosting is pale yellow with white polka dots all around it. On the top tier, there are two sets of plastic baby shoes with writing that reads ‘Congrats Allie & Blake’.

“What’s this for?” I ask bemused. I wasn’t aware of anyone planning a shower, not yet anyway.

“Remember the reveal party? Well, our mothers are dying to know what we’re having. I figured we should tell them now, being as they’re already shopping for the babies,” Blake pipes.

“Not only this, but this, too,” Clair smiles, spreading her arms out to her sides. I arch my brows and glance between Clair and Blake, waiting for someone to explain what Clair’s talking about. “The house, Allie. It’s yours,” Clair announces. 

“Wha- what? Thi-th-this isn’t Carson’s house?” I stutter, amazed. Carson laughs and spews punch from his nostrils.

“No, darling, it’s yours. Yours, Blake’s, and the babies. You like?” she asks, clutching her hands to her chest and smiling from ear to ear.

“Clair, you shouldn’t have.” I’m baffled by her generosity.

“Please, you didn’t think we were going to let y’all live cramped up in that one
-bedroom condo, did you? Those babies have Andrews blood, and they deserve the best,” she states matter-of-factly. If there’s anything I remember about Clair, it’s that she’s not to be reckoned with; what she says goes. 

Clair’s opening paper plates and setting out the disposable forks. I stand and make my way over to embrace her tightly. “Thank you, Clair. It’s beautiful.”

No, dammit. Don’t do it, Allie Grace! Don’t you dare shed another tear!

“Ah, my two favorite ladies.” Blake wraps his arms around his mother and me. “You ready, babe?”

I smile and nod. “I’ve been ready.” He walks me back to my chair, takes a seat, and pulls me onto his lap. 

Clair pulls out a knife and slices open the bottom tier, revealing a pink cake. “A girl?” Clair asks, squealing excitedly. I turn my head back to look at Blake and see that his misty eyes match mine. “Don’t be an attention hog, Clair. Hand it over,” Mom orders.

I giggle at my mother’s eagerness. Although we’ve had rough patches in our relationship, just as most mothers and daughters do, I consider myself lucky. No matter what, she’s always been supportive of my decisions. Seeing her experience the joys grandparenthood brings makes me happy. She didn’t get to experience any of this with Lacy. We were too busy mourning Dad, adjusting to Kyle’s departure, and struggling to keep my pregnancy a secret. 

Clair hands over the knife and grabs a camera. Mom’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as she slides the knife through the top tier, revealing blue cake. Mom drops the knife to the table and begins jumping up and down, mimicking Clair’s reaction. While the two of them hug and begin talking about the things they’re going to buy, I turn to Blake. He’s got that proud-poppa look shimmering across his face.

“So,” he shrugs.

“So? B, we’re having one of each!” I screech. He helps me stand from his lap, and I turn around and crash my mouth to his. Blake and I are having what every parent dreams of, a son and daughter. Holy shit. It doesn’t seem real. 

Our tongues dance with one another until I hear someone clear their throat. “Ah-hem, y’all ain’t the only two in the room,” Carson interrupts. He begins to fan his face with his hands. “Good God, I feel like I should pay you for letting me see that,” he pants jokingly.

Blake and I stand up and join everyone in the living room. Blake shoves Carson’s shoulder as we pass him. “I like it rough, big boy,” Carson roars playfully, biting at the air toward Blake.

“Give it up, son. It’s never gonna happen,” Blake throws over his shoulder. Carson faux-flips his hair and stomps into the living room behind us. 

We sit down to chat with all our guests. Brody’s over in the corner bragging about his latest shoot, and Carson’s swooning over his every word. We eat cake, drink punch, and share a lot of laughs. No one brings up my embarrassing moment from earlier, and I allow myself to have some fun. For the first time in months, my stomach hurts from laughing so hard, mostly due to Carson’s flirting. I love how all the men get flustered by him. He doesn’t mean any harm, but they’re typical men, afraid of what they don’t know. Carson has no interest in any of them, except for Brody. I can’t blame him. Brody’s a spitting image of Blake, just a few years older. 

A few hours pass, and the guests slowly disappear. The last to leave are Clair and Mom, and believe it or not, I’m ready for them to go. Between the two of them, I’m sure my stomach’s been rubbed raw. If Clair wasn’t examining my belly, Mom was. If Mom wasn’t near, Carson was. And when Blake was near, he claimed his territory. Once we see our parents off
, we go inside, and Blake gets the fireplace going. “Are we staying here tonight?” It’s not a problem if we are, but I wanted to go back to the condo and soak in our Jacuzzi tub. Warm water, soft music, and jets—yes, please.

“I planned on it, but we don’t have to,” he answers. “Why the long face, beautiful?” He walks to me and cradles my face between his smooth, warm hands.

“I just want a bath. A nice, long, hot and relaxing bath,” I pout. 

“You do know that we have tubs here, right? I’m pretty sure they don’t build homes without them,” he teases. He takes my ear
lobes between his thumb and index finger and massages them tenderly. “Let’s get you up to our room, and I’ll show you what I picked out. Just. For. You.” He kisses each side of my face as he speaks those last three words.

We make our way upstairs, and my heart plummets into my stomach. The first room we pass is the nursery, and I know Blake had to put it together because he’s the only person who knew the sex of our babies. 

The walls are a pastel yellow, and there are cherry sleigh baby beds on either side of the room. One of the beds has a pale pink bumper and cover. It’s trimmed in brown with colorful butterflies sewn into it. I gaze down at the butterfly-themed bedding, and my throat begins to constrict. “Why butterflies?” My voice is strangled, and I assume it’s due to my guilty conscience.

“Because, I saw this the first time you gave yourself to me.” He squats in front of me and tugs my pajama pants down, exposing the pink and black butterflies that are permanently inked on my lower right hip. I totally forgot I got them. It was my eighteenth birthday, and Wyatt took me to get it. I let out a breath of relief, but still the guilt’s suffocating me internally. I have to tell him what I did with Wyatt, but not today, not after all he’s done.

“Babe, please, don’t cry,” he pleads, kissing away my escaped tears.

“Sorry,” I gulp. My eyes travel over the bed and see painted wooden letters that spell Baylee, Blake’s favorite
girl’s name. I look across the room to the other wall and see the same wooden letters, but different colors. These letters spell out Blaine, my favorite boy’s name. I walk over and examine Blaine’s side; it’s monkey themed. The bumper is pale blue and yellow, patched with bouncing monkeys, upside-down monkeys, all types of monkeys, and the cover is the same.

That’s it. I can’t take it.

I wrap my arms around his middle and squeeze him as tight as my body allows. His hands travel down my hair.

“You don’t like it?” he asks nervously.

“No, I love it,” I sniff.

“Then why are you crying? I know you’ve been sensitive lately, but I figured I’d save you the trouble and get this done before the munchkins make their -debut. This isn’t the reaction I was expecting.”