The whole town seemed to have rallied around me. I had constant visitors to the store, just coming in to chat to see how the pregnancy was coming along.
Luke was almost a daily visitor, bringing me a muffin every time he stopped by. My appetite being the way it was, I almost offered to have his child every time he handed me the ball of delight. I would have, except…you know.
Amy seemed to be back to her colorful self, or she was doing a real good job of hiding her grief. She didn’t say a word about Brock to me, even though there were more than a few meaningful glances from both sides. I had watched him pull her away for more than a few heated conversations.
Whether she thought I would judge her or not, she remained silent on the subject and I didn’t want to push it. Not that I did judge her, she deserved happiness, wherever she found it. And I also had realized she never told me who she was choosing before all the shit went down.
There was still a dark cloud that hovered over my happiness. Sometimes I would be doing something normal, like cooking dinner and the loss of Ian would creep up on me, the pain slicing through me like a knife. Sometimes it would last for a moment, other times I struggled to get through the day.
I spoke to my parents regularly. They were keeping busy, always doing something, going somewhere, but they were struggling. I would hear it when my mother’s voice started to crack on the phone or when my father spoke just a little too rough. I kept waiting for it to get easier, it didn’t. I guessed I just had to get stronger and maybe remembering Ian wouldn’t hurt quite so much.
The baby was something for me to focus on, to look forward to and alternately freak the fuck out about. After much debating, Cade and I had decided we would live out at his place. I felt like I was abandoning Amy, since we hadn’t even lived in our house a year, but she convinced me she didn’t mind.
“Seriously, Gwen, I love you and living with you is the best, but I like my beauty sleep so you’re practically doing me a favor by taking you and your future child somewhere I don’t have to hear it screaming at two a.m,” she joked. “And it means we’ve got another redecorating job on our hands. Got to revamp Cade’s bachelor pad so it’s suitable for you and Supe.”
I agreed with her on that one. Cade’s house was nice, and more than big enough for the three of us, but its décor screamed ‘single man’. I had expected some argument from Cade on that score, but he had just kissed me on the head and said “Do whatever you want to make it a home for you and Bun. Just don’t do anything with the fucking TV.”
I did get an argument about was who was paying. I had been more than happy to finance the renovation, considering I was the one insisting on it, but Cade got seriously defensive when I mentioned it.
“You are my woman, and this is my baby, I will take care of you both, you aren’t paying a fucking cent,” he declared over the dinner table. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, I had expected nothing less from the macho man.
“Cade, it’s not like I don’t have the money, and I think you underestimate my freakish ability to spend. I can pay.” I didn’t even know why I tried to argue.
Cade’s eyes narrowed. “I know all about your spending habits, Gwen. I’ve seen your fucking closet. I’ve also seen where you grew up, the car you drive and the house you bought. It’s not lost on me you come from money. But the moment you became my woman, the moment I put that baby inside you and that ring on your finger, those moments meant I take care of you in every way. Including bankrolling whatever crazy shit you’ve got thought up for this house. I got money, babe, I’m more than able to keep you in the lifestyle in which you are accustomed.”
I opened my mouth at this point to argue with his prehistoric ideas, but he stopped me.
“I know that doesn’t make you happy, but how about you put your money towards our little girl’s future, like her college fund and no doubt to fund an addiction to expensive clothing she will inherit from her mother.”
I had stewed on that for a moment, deciding not to fight over something he obviously wasn’t budging on. He was also right, my little girl was going to be clad in designer from birth.
So Amy and I had taken a trip to L.A. to hit this baby furniture boutique that we had found online and shopped up a storm with Cade’s credit card. I decided to fit out the baby’s room in neutral colors, no tacky pink screaming everywhere.
We put the nursery in the back room of Cade’s house, it was big, had heaps of natural light and a view of the ocean. I had it painted all white, then got one wall painted with a tree of life design. It was a golden brown, simple, taking up the entire wall, its roots crawling from one edge of the room to another. No leaves, a symbol of eternal life, like the tattoo my brother had on his back.
I had Cade’s hardwood floors polished and varnished and they looked amazing. I had a huge sheepskin rug shipped over from NZ so my feet could feel home and put it in the middle of the room. The crib was white and old fashioned, with white frilled bedding and a huge butterfly mobile hanging above it. I had a white wicker rocking chair sitting beside the crib, my mum used to always talk about rocking me to sleep so I wanted the same for my baby.
There was a big wicker sofa in the corner that had a light pink afghan thrown on top of it and hand printed butterfly cushions. There was a changing table underneath the window and a huge old free-standing wardrobe beside it. I loved the room and so did Cade.
“Was expecting a fucking explosion of pink and bows, babe, prepared to live with it too, but this is perfect,” he said, after seeing the final product.
I was slightly affronted that he thought so little of my taste, but cut him some slack since I had turned his house into a war zone. And because he was putting up with my pregnant mood swings.
Cade loved me being pregnant. Every time he was near me his hand would rest protectively on my belly, and he would talk to it when we were in bed. He even insisted on putting my stretch mark cream on. Me turning into a beached whale hadn’t dampened our sex life, if anything I was hornier, not that Cade complained. He couldn’t get enough, even dragging me off into a dark corner at the clubhouse during a party. He had bent me over an old car and made me scream, luckily drowned out by AC/DC.
Club business had been quiet also. They were out of guns completely and so far hadn’t had any backlash. Their security business was booming, according to Cade, but he refused to take any assignments that would mean leaving me for even a night.
“Missed out on two months of your pregnancy, Gwen, not missing a fucking second more if I can help it.”
Things between him and Steg even improved. They had some kind of mutual understanding. They would never have that father and son bond back, but there was some form of respect. Steg was slowly proving me wrong about my first impressions, treating me with care ever since I had got home. He had been at the airport when we got back and had given me a warm embrace and sincere words about my brother. And every time I saw him, he kissed my head and asked the same question.
“How’s my little Templar going in there?” Meaning Bun. Since Cade was the closest thing he had to a son, our baby was going to be treated as his grandkid. I didn’t actually mind too much, especially since, to my shock, Evie had taken on the grandmother role with everything she had. Not that anyone would ever mistake her for a grandmother. But she was always coming to the store, bringing baby gifts – a pink “Sons of Templar” onesie was my favorite so far – and had helped me oversee all of the renovations to Cade’s house. Not to mention she always brought whatever I was craving that week, even when for an entire week it was cottage cheese wraps with pumpkin seeds. Luckily Cade was just as patient, I had made him leave the house at 2:00am to go and get me grapefruit, near tears.