"Almost ready, huh?" I asked, leaning a hip against the footboard.
He looked up and grinned at me. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. We were playing and got distracted." He turned back to Lydia. "See? You got Daddy in trouble."
She waved her arms and legs in the air and gave another shrieking laugh, as if her Daddy being in trouble was the funniest thing ever.
I suppressed my own laugh and scooped up her clothes from the end of the bed. In a few short minutes, I had her fully dressed in a plaid tunic and jeggings that showed off her thick thighs. Tiny brown boots followed.
"Oh, God. She's adorable," J.J. said, picking her up and blowing on her belly. Lydia smacked the top of his head and laughed again.
She was the happiest baby. Even after she was born, she rarely cried unless she was hungry or wet.
"My mom and your mom are meeting us at the pumpkin patch in twenty minutes," I reminded him. "And you're still not wearing a shirt or shoes."
"Shi—uh, shoot."
J.J. handed Lydia to me and hurried to the walk-in closet.
True to his word, J.J. had found someone to design an addition to my house, which had turned out to be a master suite. We now had a large bedroom, a walk-in closet, and a large, airy bathroom with both a glassed-in shower and a free-standing soaking tub that J.J. and I used at least once a week.
He emerged from the closet a few moments later, pulling a t-shirt over his head. His shoes were on his feet.
Much to my surprise, it had only taken one thing for J.J. to change his life-long habit of leaving his shoes everywhere in the house.
A few weeks before Lydia was born, I'd tripped on a pair of his tennis shoes when I got up to pee in the middle of the night.
I'd managed to catch myself on the doorway into the bathroom, but J.J. had woken up and immediately realized what had almost happened. I'd assured him I was fine, but his face was ashen when he realized I'd tripped on his shoes.
From that day on, his shoes were either in the closet or on the rack by the kitchen door, which we used daily.
"We can't be late to meet your grammas," J.J. cooed to Lydia when he got closer.
He reached out for her, but she curled into me and rested her head on my shoulder, blinking at him bashfully. It was a game they played often. J.J. would reach for her and she would pretend she didn't want him to hold her.
As usual, J.J. stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. Then, he grinned when she relented and lunged for him.
Secure in her daddy's arms, Lydia gave me a toothless grin.
"Traitor," I teased her.
Her only response was to giggle.
J.J. pulled me closer with his free arm so we were all in his embrace.
"My girls," he murmured, kissing my neck.
I hugged him. "We could always try for a boy."
He didn't release me but I felt him shake his head against my shoulder.
"No. One is enough."
"Jay—"
He lifted his head and looked at me. "It's too risky, Lee. I know you don't remember that first twenty-four hours but I was so scared I was going to lose you. Please don't ask me to do that again."
This was the only big issue we'd faced since Lydia's birth. I wanted to try again when she was a year old, but J.J. was adamant that we not have another child. Though Dr. Stubens assured me that the risks would be lower now that we knew it was a potential problem, J.J. wouldn't hear of it.
All he could remember was that I'd nearly died.
He was right, I didn't remember any of it. The surgeon had sedated me right after the C-section because my blood pressure spiked dangerously high. I vaguely remembered waking up a couple of times to vomit after, but that was it. J.J. stayed by my side the entire time, only leaving to spend a few minutes in the NICU with Lydia every two hours.
He said that they assigned a nurse to watch me and had to call a specialist across the country every half-hour because none of the usual therapies were working. He also said that I'd been pouring sweat and the nurse assured him that I wouldn't stroke out because of the medication they had me on.
Thirty-six hours after Lydia was born, I woke up a little sore and tired, but otherwise feeling fine.
Within six weeks, I was off blood pressure medication and no worse for wear. Dr. Stubens said she'd never seen anyone bounce back that quickly from such a bad condition in twenty years of practicing medicine.
But no matter what I said or what Dr. Stubens said, J.J. had made up his mind.
And I couldn't be angry because the first time I'd tried to argue with him and almost lost my temper was the first time I'd ever seen him cry.
So, even though I occasionally brought it up, I knew, deep in my heart, that he wasn't going to change his mind.
And I wasn't going to push him to it. Not when he was so scared of what might happen.
I couldn't force him to go through that again, even if I was willing.
So, Lydia would be our only child.
Neither of our mothers seemed upset by that. In fact, my mother told me she was glad that J.J. had put his foot down because she'd planned to do it the first time I mentioned having another baby.
Since they knew she would be my only child, they doted on her and spoiled her absolutely rotten. Something that J.J. seemed determined to outdo.
The alarm on my phone went off and I sighed.
"Time to leave," J.J. said, kissing my lips. He pulled back and looked deep into my eyes. "Please don't be mad at me. I don't want to lose you."
"I'm not mad," I said. And it was true. I wasn't angry. "Just disappointed and a little sad."
He hugged me again, closer this time, until Lydia shrieked between us at being closed in. "We could always adopt."
Just when I thought I couldn't love this man any more than I already did, he had to prove me wrong.
My heart swelled and I blinked back tears.
"We could," I replied.
"But I'd be happy with just my girls," he said.
I gave up on trying to suppress the tears and rested my head on his shoulder while I cried.
"I'm happy with my girl and guy, too," I whispered against his neck.
We were going to be late meeting our mothers, but I knew they wouldn't mind.
Right now, I wanted a few minutes with my two favorite people in the world.
The End
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About the Author
Born and raised in Texas, C.C. Wood writes saucy paranormal romances and romantic comedies featuring strong, sassy women and the men that love them. If you ever meet C.C. in person, keep in mind that many of her characters are based on people she knows, so anything you say or do is likely to end up in a book one day.
A self-professed hermit, C.C. loves to stay home, where she reads, writes, cooks, and watches TV. She can usually be found drinking coffee or wine as she spends time with her hubby, daughter, and two beagles.
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Also by C.C. Wood
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Girl Next Door Series:
Friends with Benefits
Frenemies
Drive Me Crazy
Girl Next Door-The Complete Series