Always Ever After (Always 2.50) - Page 16

7: Kylie

I sip my cup of coffee and stare out at the rain through the café window. Seeing the doctor shook me up more than I thought it would. After all, I’ve taken at least five pregnancy tests at this point, and they all said the same thing. Why was it surprising when my doctor smiled and congratulated me on my pregnancy?

I have a feeling Braxton knows something is up. All through dinner with my dad last night, he kept giving me weird looks. I wonder if Selene said something that made him wary. I know she didn’t tell him what’s going on, but she might have let something slip that got him concerned. I almost told him the truth last night, but I decided to stick with my resolve to see the doctor first.

Now that I’ve seen the doctor, I need to find time to tell him. But he’s working until late this afternoon, and we have the wedding rehearsal tonight. Then the wedding tomorrow.

The more I think about it, the more I’d like to do something special to tell him. Rather than just blurt out, “I’m pregnant!” I’d really like to surprise him.

I bring up Pinterest on my phone and search for pregnancy announcement ideas. The first thirty or so pictures look way too complicated for my capabilities. I’m artistic, but I’m not very crafty, and I don’t have a lot of time to work with. But I get a few ideas, and I think I can do something fun for him. I’ll wait until Sunday, after the wedding. I figure we should concentrate on one life-changing event at a time.

My eyes scan all the splashes of baby blue, soft pink, and pale yellow. I see little ducks and teddy bears, blankets and bottles. Looking at pregnancy announcements leads me down a rabbit hole of baby stuff. Showers, parties, decorated nurseries. Everything is so fucking cute. Yeah, it’s overwhelming, and I think it might take the next eight or so months for it to sink in that this is happening. But I can’t keep the smile off my face as I browse through pictures of tiny footprints, polka-dotted crib sheets, and some stunningly beautiful maternity photo shoots.

I get to a photo of a father holding a newborn baby on his chest, and the tears that have been threatening finally fall. I can see it so clearly: Braxton holding our tiny newborn against his bare skin, his thick tattooed arms, roped with muscle, contrasting with the baby’s soft skin.

I think about how much he loves me. How deep his feelings run, and how they haven’t faltered for a single second since that night in London when he put his ring on my finger. He makes me feel like he’s laying down at my feet to worship me. It’s not just that he loved me in secret for so long. It’s that the love he feels for me is so real, and so pure—and so much—that it never runs out. It never wavers.

That’s how Brax is going to love our child. He’s going to take one look at this baby and he’s going to fall for him or her like he fell for me. And just the thought of it—the thought of seeing him melt for our baby—makes me love him so much I break down sobbing in the middle of the coffee shop.

I didn’t think I could love him any more. He’s been in my heart for as long as I can remember, and since we’ve been together that love has done nothing but grow. And yet now, staring at this photo of a man with a tiny infant, I feel my heart swell, like it could burst in my chest.

This is so true, and so real, and so right. I wipe the tears, not caring whether the other people in the café are staring at me. My god, he’s going to be such a good father. I desperately hope his parents can see him now, because they are going to be so proud.

It takes me another ten minutes to get my shit together. I tearfully browse through more baby stuff, letting the reality sink in. I wonder if I’m so emotional because this is such a big deal, or because of the pregnancy itself. That’s a thing, right? Feeling like you’re drowning in feelings you can barely contain?

I head home and take a long shower to settle myself down. The hot water helps. Usually I’d down a shot when I feel this keyed up, but that’s not an option.

Before Brax gets home, I design a card to tell him the news. I keep the look simple, with a pinstripe border that turns into a tiny heart in one corner. I decide to get a little saucy, and put To My Hot DILF on the front. On the inside, I write you + me = three.

It’s nothing elaborate, but I think he’ll like finding out this way.

I can’t wait to see the look on his face.

By the time Brax gets home from work, and it’s time to get dressed for the rehearsal, I’m back to my normal self. I put on a fluttery yellow dress that makes my boobs look fantastic (and are they maybe a little bigger?), and help Braxton with the buttons on his shirt. It’s not that he can’t button them himself—but fuck, he looks so hot when he dresses up, I’ll use any excuse to touch him. It takes quite a bit of willpower not to unbutton that shirt and rip it off him. But we can’t be late.

The rain has finally stopped, but we still rehearse the ceremony inside. If the sun comes out tomorrow, the staff will move things outdoors. It will be a simple wedding; watching Selene and Ronan stand facing each other, hand in hand, almost makes me start sobbing again. I manage to hold it in check, although a few tears leak from the corners of my eyes.

I’m going to be an absolute wreck tomorrow when they do the real thing.

Afterward, we all meet up at a nearby Italian restaurant for dinner. I’m so tired I don’t even want to sit through the meal, but I figure I just need to do my best to pretend I’m fine.

Braxton pulls out my chair at the long table and I take a seat. Something in this place smells odd, and it’s making my tummy do strange swirly things.

I lean in so I can speak quietly to Brax. “Do you smell that?”

He sniffs. “I don’t know. What am I smelling?”

I breathe in again. Yep, something smells awful. “You can’t smell that? Seriously?”

“No.” His brow furrows and he puts his hand on my thigh. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just don’t know what smells weird.”

The people at the table start to chat, and a waiter comes out to pour wine. I try to decline, but Braxton moves my wineglass closer so he can pour. Uh oh. What am I going to do about this? If I don’t drink it, I’ll have to explain why. Can I maybe take a few sips? Or is the tiniest amount of alcohol going to poison my child? Fuck.

Ronan’s parents and brother are sitting down the table from me, and I’m having a hard time reconciling that these rather soft-spoken people are his family. I suppose I expected his father to be more like him. They look alike—the resemblance between Ronan, his brother Damon, and their father is striking. But where Ronan’s face is always full of intensity and drive, his dad and brother both seem very laid back.

His mother is absolutely the sweetest; I found myself hugging her at the rehearsal and almost asking her to adopt me. Brax and I are both short on mothers, so I guess I have a soft spot for nice mothers-in-law. And it’s obvious they love Selene, which endears them to me instantly.