Fusion (Explosive #5) (37 page)

I watched in rapt fascination as she pointed at herself and then at me. Then she moved her finger back and forth between the two of us.

“You and me?” I asked, and she nodded enthusiastically.

Then she took her thumb and forefinger and made an O, sticking her other forefinger through it. You know. The juvenile symbol for sex. This piqued my interested, and I started unbuttoning my pants. She shook her head and huffed. Then she pointed at her belly, circling her finger.

That’s when it dawned on me.

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Once again, Sierra nodded.

“Sierra! Fucking words!”

“We’re having a baby!” she squealed in such a quick rush I almost missed it.

“We’re having a baby,” I repeated, and she nodded again, beaming.

She launched herself into my arms, and I stumbled slightly as she wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. I gazed up into her eyes, completely in awe.

“We’re having a baby,” I whispered.

She leaned down to kiss me. “Are you happy?” she asked, and I wasted no time carrying her down the hall and plopping her down on the bed.

“Happy? No, baby, I’m fucking ecstatic.” My hand cupped her cheek. “You just made the happiest man in the world.”

It was true. I’d always known I wanted to be a dad, and there was no question that Sierra and I would eventually start a family. But I never expected the sudden rush of joy that filled my heart as soon as I heard I was going to be a dad. I was like a kid waiting for his birthday, wanting the time to pass quickly, unable to stand the wait.

And I had a lot of waiting to do. But I didn’t fucking care. I was going to be a dad.

A dad.

Holy shit.

“So much so you’ll forget I just threw my pregnancy test at your head?” she asked sheepishly, snapping me out of my stunned trance.

“Is that what that was?” I asked as I peppered her jaw with kisses.

“Mmm hmm,” she murmured then moaned as I thrust two fingers deep inside her without preamble.

“Don’t fucking care. You’re having my baby. Throw as many of those at my head as you want as long as they’re all positive.”

“Jeremy,” she panted.

I stopped kissing her to look up. “Yeah, baby?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Well, hell. Who was I to say no to that?

So I shut up and fucked my wife.

My gorgeous, incredible, pregnant wife.

Then we celebrated, and then we fucked some more.

In a little less than nine months, Ava Victoria Banks would be born and our lives would never be the same.

For almost a week, I’d been avoiding the pregnancy test underneath my bathroom sink. On Monday, I’d realized I was three days late. My boobs were tender to the touch, but I hadn’t had any other pregnancy symptoms, so I didn’t want to get all excited for it to turn out that my cycle was just changing.

Jeremy and I had talked about starting a family, but we weren’t actively trying or anything. It was more of a “let nature take its course and if it happens, it happens” kinda thing. But now that I was a week late, I had to know. And I had to know before Jeremy came home.

So I unwrapped the plastic, peed on a stick, and then paced my bathroom for two minutes, not allowing myself to even peek. When the timer on my phone dinged, the garage door opened. It was now or never.

With trembling hands, I picked the stick up and took a deep breath.

Those two pink lines were the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.

We were having a baby.

I couldn’t wait to tell Jeremy, and when I did, his reaction was pretty much what I’d expected.

I wish I could say that that was all she wrote, but I’d be lying. The next nine months were a whirlwind, and by the time Jeremy insisted on calling our baby girl Jeremina, I was more than ready to cut him off from baby naming. Until he suggested Ava, and I fell in love. It was from one of his favorite movies—
The Night of the Iguana
—and he had an unhealthy obsession with Ava Gardner, but I didn’t care. If we’d been told that it was a boy, I’d have been really hard-pressed not to name it after Taylor Kitsch.

We had her name and her room ready, and we were both impatiently awaiting the arrival of our daughter. She couldn’t have gotten there soon enough.

2008

“IT’S TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME!” JEREMY’S VOICE
woke me from a dreamless sleep, and I wanted to knock him out.

I squinted with one eye and groaned. “You and Ty are no longer allowed to watch UFC at our house. I told you, no more Bruce Buffer, Jeremy, and I meant it. No more.”

Jeremy grinned and held his arms out. Groaning again, I blinked twice, wiping my eyes as I sat up in bed. I frowned when I saw that he was already dressed and my suitcase was at his feet.

“You love my Bruce Buffer. Especially in bed.” He wagged his eyebrows while giving me a playful smile.

It was my turn to grin—from the memory of the first time he “Buffered” me. “I should probably send that guy a thank-you note. Now, I never have to wonder when you’re about to get off in my mouth.”

Yes, on occasion—usually UFC fight nights—Jeremy got quite into character, and just as he was about to come, he’d let me know with his best impersonation of UFC’s famed commentator. And then, on most nights, he’d pull out, allowing us to move on to the main event. And, on most nights, I never minded one bit.

But this? This was different.

He leaned forward on the bed, placing his fists down on either side of me. His lips whispered against mine. Then he pulled back, his eyes dancing with delight.

“It’s time, baby. You ready?” he asked.

Without even glancing at the clock, I knew that it was, indeed, time. Our little girl was already letting us know how stubborn she was going to be. Little Ava Victoria Banks was a week overdue, and today, like it or not, she was finally going to make her appearance in the world.

“I’m scared out of my mind,” I admitted.

His eyes softened. Then his hand cupped my face. “You wanna know something?” he asked.

I nodded, not taking my eyes off him.

“I’m scared, too.”

Those three words, which should have terrified me even further, were the remedy for my racing heart.

“I thought you weren’t scared of anything,” I teased.

“Just sharks, baby,” he said softly. “What do you say we face our fears and go in the water together?”

Hot tears filled my eyes, and I needed a moment to take it all in. The memory from all those years ago seeped back in. Even at eight years old, I had known I could depend on Jeremy, and all these years later, he was still comforting me, asking me to face my fears head on with him. My heart swelled with all the love I had for him. That’s when I knew there was no reason to be scared. Sure, we’d mess up and make mistakes. But with parents whose love was as strong and devoted as ours? Any kid would be lucky to be born into that.

“Where you go, I go,” I said with a smile.

It never got old. At least, not for me.

He smiled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I think it’s the opposite today, baby. You’re going to the hospital, and I’ll be right there with you the entire time.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The
entire
time?” I asked.

He inhaled sharply then stood and helped me up out of the bed. His hands slid to my waist, and he peered down at me. Or more like at my rounded belly pressed against his torso.

“Can we do it like the olden days? Your dad and I will smoke cigars and drink whiskey in the waiting room, and Lexi and your mom can be there for all the hard stuff?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Nope. No way. You’re my birth coach, Banks. You were there for the fun stuff. You’ll be there for this part, too,” I informed him. Then I got dressed for my hospital stay.

“Okay, okay. I had to try one last time. But I am not holding a leg!” His insistence was unnecessary, because I’d already informed my doctor that Jeremy was definitely
not
holding a leg. He called it a love sanctuary for a reason; he did not need to witness it as a birth canal.

Jeremy held my hand the entire way to the hospital, and the next time we walked into our house, our lives would never be the same.

I couldn’t wait.