Page 19 of Right the Wrongs (Broken Vows #5)

Chapter Thirteen

Griffin - Past

“Are you ready to go?” I shout down the hall.

She’s already changed her clothes twice. Then she started to cry and stripped everything off. I made the mistake of reminding her that she’d probably have to change into one of those gowns that expose your ass anyway.

Absolutely the wrong thing to say. It only takes a second to realize that by the face she makes. It looks like she’s not quite sure if she’s pissed off or if she’s going to cry.

I’m at a loss. She’s convinced that she’s going to have gestational diabetes this time, because she’s so much bigger than she was with Parker.

The breakdown happened when I had to get down other maternity clothes from the attic, because she’s only able to wear some of the things she wore during her seventh month.

Nothing she wore around the twenty-week mark fits at all.

“Baby Bird, we have to get to your doctor’s appointment so you can ask them about everything you’re worried about. I promise, no one will know you wore those clothes much later with Parker.”

She sniffles and waddles out. “You know.”

“C’mon, don’t you want to see the baby?” I know she does, so this should get her out of the house.

I could tell her how sexy I think she is when she’s pregnant with my baby, but I doubt she’d believe me right now. And if she did, we wouldn’t have time for me to prove it to her.

Just that brief thought makes me hard. I can’t believe she thinks I’m not attracted to her. I try to subtly adjust myself, not that there will be enough room in my jeans until my cock realizes it’s not play time right now.

Keyword is try, but there’s nothing subtle about this boner, and Wren doesn’t miss my effort to give the beast a bit more room. It does make her giggle, though.

“Glad that my discomfort makes you happy,” I grumble. I’m not really bothered, though. Still can’t let her start thinking that my inner grump is completely gone.

Her hand waves in front of her belly like she’s a model on a game show, showing off the big prize. “I can’t just adjust all of this, so I think you’ll manage.”

Wren starts to bend down to pick up her purse. I snatch it before she gets to it. “Nope. My girl doesn’t need to carry anything.”

Her eyes slide sideways in an expression that says she’s both annoyed and amused. I’ll take it.

“I am still finding it hard to believe that you’re a guy who will hold a purse,” she says.

I’ve never been able to understand what the big deal is about holding a purse. Those weak ass bitches who think that it makes them look weak or feminine have a narrow view. To me, it tells the world that I’m off the market, and my wife is wandering around somewhere.

I jerk my chin in the direction of her belly. “You’re carrying my baby, the least I can do is carry your purse. What the hell do you have in here, though?”

This thing weighs a good ten pounds. I might hold the purse, but I know better than to just go through it without asking.

Wren shrugs. “Honestly, I have no idea. Parker has been putting stuff in it lately, so it could be anything.”

“I’m going to make sure she didn’t put a brick in here,” I say and open the bag.

“Well, is there a brick?” Wren asks. Then winces.

“Baby Bird?” I’ve got a roll of bubble wrap in the garage waiting to go. Not that I think it would help, but it couldn’t hurt. Right?

“It’s just my back. I don’t think I’m going to be able to pick up Parker anymore, at least not until after this one comes,” she says, while rubbing her right side.

I pull out a can of fruit cocktail from her purse. “Maybe also don’t carry the pantry around with you.”

“That kid does some weird shit,” Wren mumbles.

When she grabs her back again, I start herding her out the door. “Okay, you’re in pain. We are already late, so we should get on the road so you don’t miss this appointment.”

Once in the driver’s seat, I find myself full of nervous energy.

I drum on the wheel with my thumbs and squirm in my seat.

I’ve been on edge since the night I came home and found her crying.

She’s tried to play it off as some weird hormonal thing, but we both know it was more than that.

The thing is, neither of us wants to say it out loud.

Making idle chit-chat inside the house is one thing.

Something about being able to move around makes it easier to find things to talk about, plus there were props.

Inside the truck, it’s like stepping into a confessional.

If we speak now, we’ll say everything, and I’m not sure how I’ll handle having confirmation that she was crying because Liam has moved on.

I was so sure that what she and I had was the real thing, that I never thought she’d hold on to any feelings for him.

At least, from the moment I got her back, I haven’t.

Now, I’m not sure. Can she really love me the same way I love her if she’s this upset that Liam is probably on the verge of getting engaged?

We have a beautiful, growing family. When we’re alone together, the air is practically electrified, and the sparks between us are so strong. We spend practically every moment of the day together, and it’s still not enough.

How can all of that be true, and for her to still feel something for him?

I’d rather not have this confirmed, because it won’t change anything. She’s still the love of my life, even if it turns out I’m not hers.

The doctor’s appointment feels pretty routine, until it isn’t.

This isn’t her first scan this pregnancy, but it is the one when we can find out the sex of the baby.

With this being our second baby, we know what to expect.

Of course, I did all of this a long time ago, but a lot has changed in twenty-five years.

Also, I’m not a scared shitless eighteen-year-old kid anymore either.

No, now I’m a scared shitless middle-aged man.

Dr. Carter changed everything with one statement. “I hear two heartbeats.”

I blink and realize she’d already finished the ultrasound.

“I’ll give you both a minute to digest that and for Wren to clean up the ultrasound jelly. We can talk in my office when you’re ready,” she says and walks out of the room.

I vaguely recall there being a chair right behind me. I’m operating on pure faith when my knees buckle, and I drop down into the chair, hard.

“Well, that’s some bullshit,” she finally says.

A laugh bursts free, and I can’t stop.

She balls up the gooey paper towel Dr. Carter gave her and throws it at me. “It’s not funny. I thought I was gestating a giant, or had some kind of weird pregnancy condition that would lead to some movie of the week situations.”

“Nope,” she says, and glares at her belly while she yanks her shirt down. “Instead, I’m growing two of your giant babies at the same time. You’re definitely not going to want me after I’m striped like a zebra with stretch marks, and my hooha is as wide as the Atlantic.”

That stops my laughter. A switch flips inside of me, and I bypass grump and let out my inner asshole. “Repeat that,” I say in a low, way too calm voice.

“That my hooha will be as big as the Atlantic?”

“Rewind further,” I demand.

“I’m going to be covered in stretch marks.”

Now she’s just playing with me. She knows which part I want her to repeat, and she probably knows she’s in trouble.

“Don’t think I won’t spank you right here,” I warn her.

My irritation helps my legs find their strength again, and I rise from the chair. I lean over her, causing her to lean back a little.

“What did you say?” I ask in a gruff whisper.

Her eyes cast down, and her tongue comes out to lick her lips. “I said you won’t want me.”

I lift her face until her green eyes meet mine. There are so many words to say, and yet I can’t find one. Instead, I kiss her.

My hand digs into her thick, blonde waves, anchoring her head in place. I press my mouth against hers. My lips demand more than coax. The fight that I’ve been expecting occurs without a single syllable.

When she breathes, it is from the air I exhale. Our tongues battle with each of us trying to control the kiss. Then, like she always does, Wren melts for me. Where I guide, she goes.

Finally, the kiss ends, and we’re both breathing hard. I press my forehead against hers and close my eyes. I have to wait a moment for the tightness in my throat to relax before I’m able to speak.

“Do you not understand how much I love you? Nothing could make me stop wanting you. There isn’t a force on this earth that strong.”

Not even if a part of her still loves my son. I know she loves me too. She’s proof that you don’t get to choose who you love. I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to fall for my son’s wife. But he let her go, and I won’t be stupid enough to make the same mistake.

“C’mon, Baby Bird, let’s go see the pictures of our babies again.”

She shakes her head, but there’s a small smile on her lips.

“Twins, God help us. I hope they’re not little hellions,” she says.

I laugh. My poor wife has no idea what it’s like to raise a Hale boy. “We can name them after superheroes or something, give them something to live up to.”

She gives me the side eye. “Sure. That’ll make it all better. We can name one after Superman, and they’re still going to act more like Wolverine.”

I shrug. “I kinda like Clark and Logan as names.”

“Fine, but I want to give them each a middle name after my dad. Martin for one and James, my dad’s middle name, for the other.”

I kiss the side of her head. “I love that idea.”

I’m not sure if Charlie’s idea of just “holding her through it” is the way to go, but making her admit something that will just hurt both of us isn’t going to help either. Because no matter what, these babies are coming, and I’m going to be by her side when they do.