“I don’t care what the colors are. I’ll love it. I still can’t believe it. You guys are the best.”
Marc picked up the paint. “Okay, then. Let us in so we can get to work.”
She smiled and unlocked the door. The bickering pair slipped inside, but Lizzie blocked Marc from entering. “Wait,” she said, placing her hands on the paint cans, pushing down so he placed the cans back on the ground. As soon as he stood straight, she wrapped her arms around his waist and when his arms went around her, he pulled her in tight.
“This was your idea, wasn’t it?”
“No comment,” he said, his chin resting on her head.
“I’m so glad that you’re here,” she said and then after a nice long minute, released him. He held the door open for her and when she entered her house, she spotted Mrs. Myers sitting on the stairs and baby stuff all over her living room.
Stunned, Lizzie didn’t immediately register Mrs. Myers getting up to hug her. “The surprise is last minute,” the older woman said, “but when Marc told me what he, Ollie, and Gwen were up to . . . I had to get in on it too.”
Lizzie’s eyes flew over all the gifts. “This is a crazy amount of stuff. You bought all this today?”
“No . . . yesterday,” Marc admitted.
That meant when he gave her that speech, he’d already known what these people were capable of.
“I need to sit down,” she said, sitting on the sofa in the more formal part of her living room. Her eyes yet again surveyed all the baby items filling the space, awed by their thoughtfulness and generosity. “I don’t know what to say, except thank you. This is amazing!”
She got up and gave everybody a hug, then went over to the presents, some wrapped, some not.
“The wrapped ones,” Mrs. Myers explained, “are ones I’ve had for a while. Open them.”
As Lizzie tore off the paper, Tom’s mom gave her a story for each item. The first gift contained a blanket she’d knitted—in Cubs colors. The next was Tom’s copy of
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
he had when he was a child.
“I have another special gift but I’ll give that to you in a bit,” she said and then gestured at the other gifts. “Check out the rest.”
Between the four of them, they got her everything she could ever need plus what looked like a year’s supply of diapers. Mrs. Myers laughed at that and said more like a month. Lizzie didn’t find that amusing, especially if it was true.
There were special gifts as well. Gwen bought a whole library of children’s books. And when Lizzie said a library, she meant it—there were at least fifty books in that box.
Ollie and Marc gave her a letter inviting Tom’s son to a Cubs/White Sox game in 2015 when he was five, along with a mitt for that occasion as well as a cute Cubs onesie for when he was born. The men’s gift surprised Lizzie but then again it didn’t. They were going to keep Tom’s memory and his passion for baseball alive for his son.
After Lizzie finished going through all the gifts, Mrs. Myers directed them into the kitchen. “So, there’s a whole bunch of food in the crockpot. Dig in, kids,” she said, but put a hand out to stop Lizzie. Damn, she wanted some of that food. “Can we talk alone?”
Lizzie nodded and led her into her office and shut the door.
“You know, it’s always been just Tom and I. Our family was small. Tom had shared his dreams with me about one day starting a family with you.”
Lizzie felt the tears as well as the smile come to her face, thinking about how excited he would’ve been about this child. “So, he wanted a family with me, huh?” she asked, softly laughing.
“Yes, he did. A big one,” she paused. “Sometimes it’s so hard to be happy for this child knowing that Tom isn’t here and can’t be a part of all this happiness.”
“I know what you mean. As I draw nearer to the due date, I find myself missing Tom more and more. And that’s not all. I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to do all this—without him.”
“Well, you saw today there are a lot of people that love you and will help in whatever way that they can. That’s one of the reasons why I wanted to speak with you.” She paused. Lizzie felt a little apprehensive, wondering what might be up. Mrs. Myers pulled an envelope out of her purse and handed it to Lizzie.
“What’s this?”
“Open it,” she replied, waiting to speak until Lizzie began to open the envelope. “I didn’t need the money from Tom’s house or his shop. I thought it best to give it to my grandchild.”
Holy shit
, Lizzie thought, looking at the bank draft. So many zeros. “Mrs. Myers . . . this is too much. I can’t . . .”
“You can. Tom would have put this money towards his children’s futures. I’m just following that. You two are all I have left. I want you to have it . . . put it towards his upbringing . . . give him the best.”
Tears pooled in her eyes as she regarded Tom’s mother then hugged the woman who would have been her mother-in-law.
“Thank you . . . so much for everything that you’ve done for me. I would have loved being your daughter-in-law.”
“In my heart, you are.”
Marc
After they all ate, Lizzie and the other women went upstairs to plan for tomorrow. They’d be getting that nursery ready for Lizzie. It’d be a busy day but worth it—just like today.
Seeing her face when she saw the surprise was worth every single hour he’d spent in all those stores. He’d do it over and over for her.
Just like he’d be her friend even when he wanted her. There hadn’t been a day when that wasn’t true. He’d always want her.
When he watched her with that gorgeous belly in the lead, walking down the stairs, he wanted her. Like bend her over the sofa and fuck the hell out of her wanted her.
“Okay, kids, I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early,” Mrs. Myers announced, hugging them all as she left.
“We’re gonna head out too. I’ve got to drop this freeloader off still,” Gwen said, pointing to Ollie, then pulling Lizzie into her arms. “Love you, whore.”
“Love you more, whore.”
“Love you, sexy momma,” Ollie said, kissing her cheek.
Then the pair was off, leaving Marc there alone with her. He wanted to stay and hang, but knew she needed time alone to take this emotional day in.
“Hey, I was thinking about leaving too.”
“You were?” she asked, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. To be honest, he liked hearing that . . . liked hearing that he’d be missed.
“Yeah . . . so much shopping,” he teased with a fake yawn, then shot her the smile that had disarmed her so often in the past. She chuckled and followed him to the front door. “How you holding up?”
She looked up at him, catching his eye, not missing the fiery sparkle there. “I am so happy. I can’t tell you what it means to me that you guys did this for me.”
“Well, that makes me happy,” he said. “You totally deserved that.”
“Thank you, Marc,” she said.
“You’re welcome, Elizabeth. We’re here for you.”
“Just like you said.”
Glad she had heard him.
“Yeah, now I’m off . . . try to get some sleep.”
As he leaned in to hug her, she lifted her head, her eyes on his lips. He stopped, sensing the change. Her gaze lifted to meet his and he saw it—the spark of desire . . . maybe he was seeing things, he thought, as his arms embraced her. She stood on her tiptoes and placed her lips at the corner of his mouth. He tried to fight the desire to turn his head, but couldn’t resist moving his head that inch and have his lips touch hers. When she parted her lips for him, he about cried. His tongue tentatively entered her mouth, greeted by hers. Her mouth was so sweet—better than he remembered.
Oh man . . . he could easily carry this way too far. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to make love to her night and day, and sometimes those feelings were amazingly strong. But he didn’t want to go too far too fast with her. He needed to prove that he was in her life for the duration. Not just a quick fuck. He didn’t want to hurt her again like he had. He would be her friend—that’s what he had set out to do, but right now she was kissing him back, grasping his shoulders, making sexy little moans . . . what should he make of that? What did she want from him? She said she’d wanted to be friends—but just a minute ago, she’d been eyeing his lips like a tiger with prey in its sights. They had kissed plenty of times before. He knew the difference between a casual kiss and this. This kiss was . . .
Marc had to stop this because he needed her in his life, and he didn’t want to go too far and lose her friendship.
Slowly backing away, he watched the reaction on her face. Her eyes fluttered open and he saw the desire darkening her green orbs. He kissed her forehead, knowing he had to escape or he’d do something he just might regret.
“It’s best if I go. Talk to you later, momma,” he said with a smile, and walked out of her house, resigned to spending the night with an uncomfortable hard-on.
Lizzie
Lizzie woke to the incessant knocking on her door. “They’re here already?” she groaned. Throwing on her thin white robe, she went down to let them in. “How are you guys up already?” she asked in lieu of a greeting. “It’s Sunday.”
“Lots to do, sexy momma,” Ollie said, squeezing on in past her.
“We brought donuts,” Marc added as he walked in, a sexy grin on his face.
Her eyebrows shot up at that. “Gimme!” she ordered.
“Now, where are your manners?” he asked, placing the box of fried heaven on the kitchen island.
“Please?” she said, leaning into his body. He smelled so good. Clean and fresh. And she had to control the urge to step up on her tiptoes and kiss him like she had yesterday.
That kiss had lit a fire in her that she hadn’t felt since before Marc left. But her guilt about those feelings was like cold water tossed on the flames. She didn’t know what to do. What was right. But standing next to him . . . it felt like she belonged there.
“That’s better,” he said, opening the box. She went in for a hug, then snagged a long john.
“Thanks,” she said, her mouth full. He playfully bopped her nose and she stuck out her tongue at him.
“Don’t eat too many,” Gwen warned. “Mrs. Myers said she’s bringing something for brunch. Don’t want to ruin your appetite.”
“I’m pregnant. My appetite’s never ruined. You guys having some?” she said, picking out a double chocolate cake donut this time.
“I had a half dozen on the way here,” Ollie said as he headed upstairs. “But if you could put on some coffee . . .”
“On it,” she said, watching her three friends head up to the nursery. Lizzie put the coffee on then went upstairs to get ready for the day—starting with a nice long shower. She’d been savoring these lately, partially because people had been telling her about newborn mother hygiene—or the lack of it. She’d already stocked up on dry shampoo to last her a few months.
When she was presentable, Lizzie sneaked a peek in the nursery, saying hi to Mrs. Myers, before they shooed her away.
“Fumes!” they shouted.
So she went about opening the windows on the second floor to ventilate the house. Then she decided to hang out in her office, making sure to snag a plate of Mrs. Myers’ baked French toast along the way.
When her eyes started to droop, Lizzie headed upstairs. Nap time.
From the landing, she could see some of the progress they had made, and couldn’t resist stepping in the direction of the nursery when Gwen’s head whipped out in the doorway. “No. Fumes!”
“Fine,” Lizzie huffed and turned to her bedroom to chill out on her bed. Flipping on the television to a Cubs game, her eyes gave in to her exhaustion and she fell asleep.
When she woke up, her body rested against something warm and hard. Lifting one eye open to check it out, she saw the light blue fabric of Marc’s shirt beneath her.
“Hi, sleepyhead,” he said.
“Hi. What time is it?”
“After five.”
“Shit!” she exclaimed, not believing yet totally believing that she’d slept that long.
“Yeah . . . what happened?” he asked.
“Sorry. I got side-tracked,” she said, turning her head to look at him.
He rolled his eyes at her. “Sure . . . side-tracked.”
“I was. The bed was asking me to lie on it. It gets lonely,” she whispered as if telling him a secret.