Her face morphs before me into a puff of smoke, and before I can comprehend what is happening, Jaxon is there, knelt before me, one hand lovingly on our baby’s head. “When the time comes, don’t wait.”
“Wait for who?” I ask, before leaning forward. “Jaxon, it was her. She was here. She—”
“She was never here,” he soothes me. “But I need you to promise me that when the baby comes, you’ll tell me.”
“Jaxon, the baby is right here,” I fret, my entire body shaking. “They are here.”
I hold the baby up for him to see, but in my arms is an empty blanket. I glance at Jaxon, horrified.
He tilts his head, sadness pouring from him. “It will be okay, Lily. We’ll get our baby back.”
“Back?” I cry. “Back from where? Did she take her?”
Suddenly, he disappears, and Mum is there, hand raised, ready to hit me. “You should have listened to me.”
The slap has me shooting up in bed, gasping for air. It’s not real. It’s not. And as I clutch my stomach, tears gathering in my eyes, it hits me that it’s not. Our baby is still protected inside of me, bringing me a little comfort.
I’ve had weird dreams throughout my pregnancy, but nothing like that. I have a bad taste in my mouth and I’m shaking with fear as I remember her words. You have my blood. We might share DNA, but it doesn’t make me anything like her. I could never do what she did to a child, or any living, breathing thing.
Glancing to the other side of the bed where Jaxon is still sleeping soundly, I debate whether or not to wake him, to tell him what occurred in my dreams. But seeing him rested, knowing how busy he’s been lately, I slide out of bed without stirring him. As I grab my dressing grown from the back of the door, I take one more glance at him.
It wasn’t real.
I tiptoe out of the room, heading downstairs. And only when I get to the kitchen do I let myself relax. My stomach cramps, my back aches, and I swear I can feel the sting from the slap she gave me just before my dream ended.
It’s not real. It’s not.
My heart races as I study the vinyl flooring and take deep, easy breaths.
It’s not real.
It might not be real, but it felt real. And I can’t get rid of the same sense of doom I felt in my dream. I’m not sure what any of it means or if it means anything at all, but the dream still has me freaked out.
“It’s going to be okay,” I promise the little one. “It wasn’t real. And I promise, she will never, ever hurt you.”
Needing to soothe my dry throat, since it feels raw from screams I never made, I grab a glass from the cabinet before heading over to the sink to pour myself a glass of water.
As I bring the glass to my lips, I catch sight of white flakes outside the window. I gawk as they fall in a slow flutter, and the ones that reach the window, instantly melt away.
“Oh my God, it’s snowing,” I whisper, my dream long forgotten. “And it’s Christmas.”
This has to be a sign, a good one.
Glancing at the clock, I know I have time to do what I prepared. For weeks, if not months, I’ve not been able to get up early, so I wasn’t sure if this surprise would be doable. But I bought the ingredients all the same.
And now I can.
Grinning, I begin to gather all the ingredients, excitement bubbling inside of me. Today is our first Christmas together, and I want to make it one he won’t forget.
*** *** ***
I sense him before I feel him. Stepping up behind me, his chest warm, comforting, Jaxon wraps his arms around me, placing both hands on my rounded stomach.
He presses a kiss to the side of my neck, and excitement flutters in my stomach. “I’ll do the dishes, Angel.”
“I’ve got them,” I tell him softly.
He gently pulls me away from the sink and smoothly turns me in his arms. Not caring my hands have soap suds on them, he lifts them, wrapping them around his neck. “Merry Christmas, Jaxon.”
The crinkles around his eyes soften as he leans down, capturing my lips. He takes his time, savouring the moment, before reluctantly pulling away.
“You were up really early. Did the baby wake you again?”
I smile. “I think we’re passed he or she pushing down on my bladder without warning. Nugget is constantly there.”
“Then why so early?”
“Because it’s Christmas, it’s snowing, and I wanted to go all out for our first Christmas breakfast.”
“Thank you, Angel. I loved it.”
I lean up on my toes, unable to keep the smile off my face. “Presents now.”
He groans as I drag him into the living room. “I told you I didn’t want anything. I have everything I could possibly need right here.”
I bite my lip when I realise my dilemma. There is no way I’ll be able to get down on the floor. Not unless I want to spend the day down there. “Um, I think you might have to rummage through there and find the ones from me. They are in red paper with a gold ribbon on.”
He takes my hands, and with efficient manoeuvring, helps me down onto the sofa. “On it. You sit there and look gorgeous because it’s my turn to spoil you.”
“Do your presents first,” I tell him, nerves bubbling inside of me. “If we wait any longer, I might throw up.”
He chuckles, piling them all into one pile in front of me. “Do you have an order in which you’d like them opened?”
“No,” I tell him, then lean forward. “Yes. No. Maybe.”
He chuckles, sitting back on his arse. “We have to be at your parents in a few hours, babe. Which will it be?”
I point to the envelope. “Open that one first.”
He grins, lifting the envelope shaped present. He tears open the packaging and the sound has my stomach rolling.
Gosh, I’m so nervous.
He pulls open the printed tickets and freezes as he reads it over. He meets my gaze. “Angel,” he murmurs in awe.
“I heard you and your brothers talking at the office. You all said you wished you had a day where you didn’t have to think about work. Then you mentioned going racing. This is that. And because I wanted to make sure you had your brothers, I got them all one too.”
“Angel, we were messing around. You didn’t need to do this.”
I shrug. “You work a lot, and I know things have been getting to you there with all the new developments going on. I wanted you to have a break away from it all.”
“Thank you,” he tells me, and reaches up, giving me a kiss. I kiss him back, smiling. “Now I can blackmail them into helping with the shit jobs because they are not going to want to lose these tickets.”
“Don’t be mean,” I tease.
“So, which one next?”
It’s then that I shift uncomfortably, because I’m not sure the next ones are what someone will call presents. I just didn’t know what to get.
“I guess that one, although there are two parts.”
He picks up the eight by ten gift, tearing it open. The frame itself is a plain rustic frame, with the words, ‘I love you’, but inside is a picture of my naked bump, my fingers shaped to make a heart, and perfectly placed in the middle of the heart is our most recent scan photo.