Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

“Maxwell, I’ve been in labor for the past three hours, I think I’ve figured out the damn breathing bit. My water broke just after we got to the graveside and I sat down intending to call you. But reception sucks, and then your Gramma took a step the wrong direction and…oh my God, this baby is on the way.”

This was not at all how she’d planned her afternoon to go. It was supposed to have been a short, simple trip. She’d be back in plenty of time to drag Max from his work and slather him with kisses before making her big announcement that she loved him silly. Tasha waited out another set of contractions, staring at the greenery around her as it faded into invisibility, the bright dashes of color muted as darkness settled. The other part of her brain worked hard to ignore the fact that unless an ambulance showed up soon, very soon, she just might have this baby in a graveyard.

It was sure to be one of those stories that down the road the kid would love to share with everyone.

Max supported her, touching her gently, rubbing and asking how he could help.

The comfort of his presence made a world of difference. “Just hold me. I’m so glad you made it. I didn’t think your Gramma wanted to be a baby catcher.”

“Why you didn’t tell her you were in labor?”

Tasha took another slow step, his arms around her torso. “I didn’t feel anything unusual at first. It’s only gotten bad since I got hold of you. I thought it was more Braxton Hicks, and I didn’t think Gramma needed something else to worry about.”

Max swore, holding her carefully, guiding them down the rocky path. “On the relative scale of things to worry about, going into labor trumps a twisted ankle.”

Tasha shrugged. “I guess. Oh damn. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that one hurt.” She stopped again, trying to catch her breath, but it was a struggle. In the far distance, the siren of an ambulance cut through the air. The pain shifted, and suddenly instead of squeezing her to pieces, a sharp pressure speared between her legs. “Umm, Max?”

He ducked in front of her, staring up into her eyes. His face was white in the pale light, and he looked far older than usual. “What?”

“I need to push.” And like right now. She might want to wait, but this kid had other ideas.

“Shit, are you sure?”

She snapped at him. “No, it’s just a sudden fancy I have. Arghh, crap, this hurts. It didn’t so much…shit…until now, but… Oh my God.”

“Okay, okay, let me…” He looked around frantically while she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. Oh yes, there was something going on, and the men with the nice flashing lights and blaring siren racing toward them might not make it in time. Maxwell ripped off his shirt, laid it on the ground and carefully helped her down on top of it.

“Another one of your school shirts bites the dust,” she teased.

He lowered her pants, hands gentle on her body. “How can you joke right now?”

She wasn’t sure. “It’s joking or screaming. Which would you—?”

The pain struck the words from her mouth and Max scrambled to finish undressing her, her pants getting caught on her shoes until he tore them off her feet.

This wasn’t how they’d pictured it. There was no sterile birthing room with a shower and tub to relax in while they waited for the little one to arrive. Of course, if Tasha was honest, she’d never thought too hard about the messier parts of the process, skipping straight from announcing “I think it’s time” to “It’s a girl” in one smooth blend like a television-friendly soundtrack-filled sitcom.

She might have made a detailed list of what she wanted, what she didn’t want, but she’d never actually considered how much it would hurt, especially as all of her chosen cocktails were denied her. She’d briefly debated having a natural birth, but this—this was going too far.

“I can see the top of her head. She’s got fuzzy hair. Okay, this is actually very cool.” Maxwell looked up from where he knelt between her legs, his smile shaky. They had one hand joined, her fingers crushing his as she fought the pain. It wasn’t the most elegant of locations, with her head resting on the grass, the dark shapes of tombstones casting shadows around them.

She didn’t give a damn where they were anymore.

“Can I push?” Oh please, sweet baby Jesus, let me push.

“I think so. Not too hard.” He pulled his hand from hers to touch her carefully, a light stroke over her burning skin. “This is her head pushing against you. You need to go slow—”

“Dammit, Max—”

“Stop. Not so hard. Hit me later, but you’ve got to slow down, slow…oh shit, yeah.”

The cries escaping from her throat blended with shouts from the parking lot. Bodies surrounded them as the paramedic team arrived. Latex-gloved professional medical attendants raced up, white smears against the darkness around them. She wasn’t sure what she expected. The pain was focused enough as it gripped her she just wanted this over and done, and she didn’t care who pulled the kid out. It was in an almost dreamlike state that she noticed one of them squatting beside Max.

And Samantha arrived.

The pain washed away in seconds, mysteriously leaving nothing but the ecstasy of seeing their little girl held in her husband’s arms. Her heart pounded loud enough she was sure everyone heard it. Then everything blurred together. All through getting cleaned up and transferred to the stretcher. The entire time it took to bring her to the ambulance and tuck the three of them in for the trip to the hospital—she saw nothing but her daughter, now cradled in her arms. The perfect gift, with her hair still wet. Little lips puckering into a bow and pulsing together, looking for something.

Maxwell opened her shirt and helped her bring the baby to her breast and it wasn’t sexual, but it was the most intimate of moments. Her eyes were so full of tears she could barely see him not a foot away from her.

His one hand rested on the baby, the other behind her head along the back of the stretcher. Protecting and guarding them both, and the love inside him blazed out like a beacon.

It didn’t matter what nasty things other people had said over the years, or the misunderstandings of her youth. What was real was now. What was true was this. She looked down at the baby once more, shocked to find such perfection in her arms, and yet what else could she have expected?

It was perfect love that had made her.

She reached for Max, sniffing back the tears. Whispering softly into his ear, for him alone.

“I love you.”

He sucked in a quick breath at her words, the fingers cupping the back of her head shaking slightly as he kept their cheeks tight together.

She had to finish. Had to make it clear she wasn’t just dropping platitudes in a flush of excitement. “There is nothing I want more than to have you and this little one in my life, and whatever else our family becomes. But it starts with you.”

He didn’t speak for a second, but she felt the brush of his lashes against her skin, wet with emotion. “I love you so much.”

They sat and stared at the miracle in her arms while the miracle in her heart finished its magic.

“Are you serious? A blindfold?” He stared at it with suspicion.

“Hey, I’m the boss of this. You want your surprise, you wear the blindfold.”

Max shrugged. He stopped en route to kiss Samantha who lay sleeping in her bassinette. He grabbed the baby monitor, clicked it on and stuck it in his back pocket. “Fine, but there’s something about closing my eyes that makes me very nervous.”

“Hmm, you like it when I ask you to close your eyes.” The lusty sound in Tasha’s voice infused a little extra life into his groin, but he was too tired to follow up right now. Maybe when Sam started sleeping better—hopefully before she turned twenty.

Thinking back over the past weeks made Max grin. While Samantha’s early appearance had been unexpected, her dramatic entrance had ushered in only the start of the celebration.

Tasha loved him. She’d accepted his love, and turned around and poured herself back into him ten-fold. It was like she couldn’t stop saying it, or showing it. The woman he’d fallen in love with so long ago had not only arrived, she’d arrived in style and was a willing participant in every single moment they spent together.

The wait for her to come to terms with her past had been tortuous, but she seemed to be making up for lost time. The intelligent, funny and caring woman he’d always seen had an extra twist to her smile when she looked at him these days, and he planned to enjoy it.

Especially if it involved blindfolds.

He let Tasha lead him through the house, the floor plan automatically scrolling through his mind. “If you plan to toss me off the back deck, aim me in the direction of the compost pile. That would be a soft place to rest.”

“Do we need to get a dog so you can have a doghouse to sleep in?” she teased.

He slipped the hand that rested on her shoulder lower until it covered her breast. “I’d much rather sleep with you. Even if all we do right now is sleep.” What he wouldn’t give for a solid eight hours. At seven weeks, Samantha was a good baby, but she still had her days and nights mixed up.

Tasha twisted under his hands, rotating in a circle. He brought his other arm up to embrace her, savoring the fullness of her breasts, lowering his grip as she continued to turn. He smoothed his palms over her slimming waist and firm ass. He enjoyed touching her body, but even better was having her playful and flirty again. Last week they’d made love for the first time since Sam’s arrival, and other than going slow at first, Tasha had been fully online.

“I have no idea what you’re doing, but it’s totally working for me.”

She laughed. “I planned on spinning you in circles to get you disorientated, but maybe a little distraction will work just as well. You know where we are in the house?”

“Who cares?” He caught her against him, cupping her butt firmly and dragging her up his body. Perhaps he wasn’t too tired after all. Warm, soft lips met his, and he shuffled backward until he felt something solid against his back. One twirl placed her between his body and the wall as he ravished her mouth.

Okay, he was definitely not too tired anymore. The constant rhythm of Samantha’s breathing sounded through the baby monitor and while she slept, he wanted to play.

Tasha scratched his back and bit his lower lip, sucking it into her mouth hard before releasing it with a smack of her own lips.

“Hmm, this is fun, but it’s not what I had in mind.”

She wiggled and Max reluctantly lowered her feet to the floor. “Rain check?”

Her fingers threaded through his as she tugged him forward again. “Definitely. And can we talk about your tendency to pin me against walls? I’m not sure when you picked up the habit…”

He could picture the smirk on her face. The tone of her voice revealed her amusement, and her delight in being with him.

There was no doubt anymore. They were in love—they were both in love—and it was so good. That cloud hovering over them had dissipated and while he imagined they would still have their struggles, right now things were pretty damn perfect.

Well, nothing that a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix, anyway.

She pulled him to a stop and pressed against him, the swells of her breasts brushing his chest as she kissed him quickly, then undid the blindfold. She stepped aside and he swore softly.

“The secret room? You’re finally letting me look in the secret room?” The off-limits area had been driving him nuts since the midway point of the construction project. He had no idea what the space was to be used for, and any teasing attempts on his part to find out had been waved off.

“It’s time. You ready?”

She twisted the knob and pushed the door open, letting him enter first.

It was an office. Natural light poured in, but the computer desk sat in such a way to allow a monitor to be easily visible. Shelving and storage lined one wall, a comfy chair—one of his favorites from back at the cottage before they’d moved in together—tucked into the corner of the space with a small coffee table next to it.

The desk itself was larger than the foldout table he’d been using in the makeshift space he’d set up back at the apartment. Way roomier than the corner he currently had his things wedged into in the office he was sharing with Tasha, one door farther down the hall. There was more than enough room here for all his monitors and screens, but for now, the only thing resting on the smooth surface was a picture they’d taken of the three of them—Samantha in Tasha’s arms, him holding them both.