Not Precisely Pregnant Page 12

  And he and Paige were as right as two people could be.

  They complemented each other. They challenged each other.

  Generally, he wrote his column on the computer. He thought better when he was typing. But necessity could be compelling.

  He grabbed a piece of paper and started writing a new column. A column about love.

  PAIGE, HIDDEN BENEATH a scarf and the biggest, face-covering pair of sunglasses she could find, couldn't help but watch the television at the airport.

  It wasn't as if she had anything else to do as she waited for her flight to board.

  A television in the corner blared.

  WMAC.

  Darn.

  Maybe they'd board her plane before another update came on.

  As Dana announced another Marry-Me-Paige-athon update, Paige knew she shouldn't have been overly optimistic about her chances. After all, that's not how her life was working lately.

  She just couldn't escape Riley.

  "Paige, I know you're out there. Remember when you said that my columns spoke about my being a hero? Well, this next one is going to talk about love. True love. Couples whose names are forever linked. And right at the top of that list is Paige and Riley. Two names that are simply part of a whole."

  She studied him as he went on and on about true love. His face was a mess. His eyes looked. . .haggard. He looked as if he was almost in physical pain.

  "I love you. Marry me, Paige, and put me out of my misery. We belong together."

  That she'd done that to him suddenly hit home.

  Riley, the man who valued his privacy, the man who swore he didn't want to be viewed as a hero, was on television, announcing to the entire city that he loved her, that he wanted to marry her.

  What on earth was she doing?

  So he'd had a momentary pessimistic lapse. She was running away because of that?

  She sat in the hard plastic airport seat, watching him but not really listening. She was thinking.

  Thinking about her feelings for Riley.

  She accused him of not trusting her and had used that as an excuse to break things off. When actually, she wasn't breaking things off as much as running away. Why?

  Because Riley scared her.

  More than that, he terrified her. The depths of her feelings were so strong that it was almost overwhelming. She could lose herself in Riley with the greatest of ease.

  She'd accused him of running, but it had really been her.

  She loved him.

  Paige Montgomery wasn't a runner. She was a fighter.

  She loved Riley Calhoon, and she wasn't running to Florida. She was running back to the station where she was going to accept his marriage proposal—right there, on television. Then, if he tried to back out, she'd have proof and sue him for breach of contract.

  Paige got up and whipped off her scarf and glasses as she strode from the airport, ready to take control of her future. . .ready to capture the man she loved.

  "CALHOON, I WANT TO KNOW what you think you're doing?"

  Paige heard Stephanie in the background whisper to the cameraman, "Are you getting this?"

  Paige should have objected, but she didn't care. She was going to have this out with Riley here and now, and she didn't care if the entire city watched. She wanted them to see.

  "What am I doing? I'm making an utter fool of myself. I've been on this television all day trying to prove to you that I'm different since you came into my life. Me, who never spoke of feelings, I'm here spewing them in front of the camera all day. What am I doing? I'm trying to tell you that I love you. I made a lot of mistakes, but loving you isn't one. We go together. I've been writing about it."

  He picked up a piece of paper. "Calhoon and Montgomery. We're a pair. Like Romeo and Juliet. Like Héloïse and Abelard. Like Samson and Delilah. Like Tarzan and Jane. Like Donny and Marie."

  He loved her? He'd been saying it on air, but it sounded oh so much sweeter to hear it in person.

  Paige grinned and said, "Calhoon, don't they teach you about research at the paper? Romeo and Juliet died. Abelard was castrated and sent Héloïse into a nunnery. Samson lost his hair, and eventually his life. Tarzan was a real ape. And Calhoon, Donny and Marie were brother and sister."

  "But the point is, all those couples are forever connected in people's minds. Just like Calhoon and Montgomery. Riley and Paige. We're a team. We're meant to be together."

  "It's Paige and Riley. I get top billing." The joke fell flat and she realized she was hiding from what she really needed to say. "You accused me of leaking the hero story. I told you I didn't, but you didn't believe me."

  "I'm sorry. I trust you. That's why I'm here. I'd trust you'd come save me from this." He smiled. "It took you long enough."

  "I never said I was coming to save you."

  "Don't you see, you've been saving me since the beginning. Like you saved me from a truck that first night."

  "You didn't believe me then, either."

  He ignored her protest. "And then you saved me from myself. You taught me how to love."

  "Damn, Calhoon. That's not fair."

  "Fair? What's fairness have to do with it? Love isn't fair. It doesn't come when it's expected. It won't be commanded, won't be put aside. It sneaks up on you and changes your entire world. For years I didn't believe in anything, but you taught me to trust, to believe. Hell, Paige, I'm even optimistic. I know you're mad, but I believe that you'll get over it and realize you love me, too. You've proved it."

  "How on earth did I prove I loved you?"

  "I couldn't have hurt you so deeply if you didn't love me. You wouldn't be here now if you didn't love me."

  She moved around the desk until she was standing next to him, close but not quite touching. "You think you're pretty smart."

  "No. I know I am."

  "Okay, maybe this once you are, because you're right, your not trusting me cut so deep because I love you."

  ''I trust you now to do this on the air." He reached into his pocket and held something out to her. It took Paige a moment to truly process what it was.

  "A ring?" she whispered. It was a small gold band encrusted with tiny rubies.

  "Paige Montgomery, will you marry me? Will you let me back into your ever-optimistic Pollyanna world?"

  "Yes. I don't know if anyone will ever call you Pollyanna-ish, but I'm sure willing to try to teach you how to see the glass half-full."

  "As long as you're around, my glass is completely full. I love you."

  Wrapped in Riley, Paige simply said, "I love you, too."

  Epilogue

  THE SNOW WAS BLOWING, swirling around the mass of humanity that had headed to the Peach Street stores to do their Christmas shopping.

  Riley glanced at the well-bundled woman next to him. They'd just celebrated their first anniversary. How on earth had he gotten so lucky? A year with Paige hadn't dimmed the strength of his feelings. If anything, it had intensified them.

  He hoped his luck hadn't deserted him, because the streets certainly weren't deserted and he was going to need all the luck he could get to make it down Peach Street.

  "Paige, I told you we shouldn't go shopping today. It's too close to Christmas. Just look at this traffic."

  She blew out a long, audible breath and said, "Riley, calm down. Take a deep breath with me. We have plenty of time."

  "I don't need a deep breath." He beeped the horn and forced his way into the right-hand lane because it appeared to be moving a little faster. "You're breathing enough deep breaths for both of us. And you're breathing them a lot more often. I told you. I warned you. You didn't listen, though. But you better listen now. . .don't you dare. Don't you do it. I won't have it. Think of the mess. Think of my nerves. I'm having a nervous breakdown."

  "Calhoon, would you stop your incessant babbling? I'm fine. Everything's fine."

  "I can't." His hands ached from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. "How could I relax now? It's your fault. You're sitting th
ere breathing and I know what you're thinking. You're going to—" He glanced her way and saw the look of concentration on her face and knew what was going on.

  "Look, there you go. You're doing it again. It's only been a minute since the last time. I told you not to do it until we got there. I won't have it. You're in pain. If you wait a few minutes we'll get to the hospital and they'll give you drugs."

  "I don't want drugs," she gasped.

  "Then I want drugs. Lots of drugs. For you. I can't stand seeing you in pain."

  "I'm not taking drugs, but you don't have to worry about the pain much longer. I think I have to push."

  He felt sick to his stomach. Paige seemed to thrive on keeping him off balance, but this was going to heck with the joke. "Oh, no you don't There's the hospital. I'm turning now. So hold on. You said we had a lot of time. The midwife said first babies take a lot of time. Hours and hours. Days even. They don't come this fast."

  "The nurse lied. I lied. Someone lied. Maybe that nagging backache was more than just strain and I was actually in labor last night. I don't know, but Riley, I've got to push."

  "Hell no. No pushing in this car. No babies either. I can see the hospital. Don't you dare. Paige, don't you dare."

  He threw the car into park and raced around to the other side and opened her door. He scooped her into his arms, even as she protested. "Riley, don't. I weigh too much."

  "Shut up, Paige."

  The next few minutes were a blur. Paige found herself on a gurney being whisked up to labor and delivery.

  "I have to push," she said again, as they got in the elevator.

  "Paige, don't," Riley pleaded.

  The nurse from the E.R. had taken one look at Paige and immediately rushed her toward the obstetric floor.

  Paige let out a long groan.

  "Paige," Riley cried helplessly as she panted and sweated.

  The elevator stopped.

  A small part of Paige wondered why she wasn't embarrassed about having a baby in a very public elevator, but all she could think of was Riley and this proof of their love.

  She groaned. The urge to push was overriding any other thought.

  She realized that they'd wheeled her someplace else, because when she opened her eyes, it wasn't the elevator ceiling she saw. Brighter lights, different ceiling tiles.

  "I see the head," Meghan, their midwife, said. Part of Paige wondered how Meghan had got there, but the part didn't care. She simply focused on Meghan's words. "Easy now, Paige. Take a breath. There we go."

  There was an intense pressure and suddenly, there was a feeling of relief.

  "It's a girl," Meghan said.

  "A girl, Riley. We have a girl," Paige gasped, and Meghan laid the wrinkled mass of baby on her stomach. "A girl."

  Riley reached out and touched the small, dark-haired head. "You know, she's going to be just like her mama. Doing things her own way."

  "And that's not so bad, is it?" Paige asked, awed by the small miracle she and Riley had created together. Created in love.

  "Not at all," he murmured. "I'll even buy her her very first set of rose-colored glasses and do my best to see that nothing and no one ever makes them slip."

  Vaguely Paige was aware of the fact that Meghan was bustling around her, but all she had eyes for was her husband and daughter.

  "I have the perfect name for her," she murmured as she stroked the small head.

  "What?"

  "Polly. Polly Calhoon. It has a ring to it, doesn't it?"

  Riley's laughter was his only response. "Polly Calhoon. It will do."

  Love and laughter, Paige thought as she looked at her family. What more could any woman ask for?

  * * * * * * *

  November 2016

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Paige and Riley’s story. When I was working on it, I referred to it as my Pollyanna meets Shrek story. I love opposite attract stories! And like Paige, I’ve been accused of wearing rose-colored glasses, and on occasion people have mentioned that I might live in Hollyworld…a place where glee is the name of the game. So, maybe there’s a bit of me in Paige’s world-view, or maybe there’s a bit of Paige in my world-view…it’s a chicken and the egg sort of puzzle. But like Riley, we all need to be reminded to put on our rose-colored glass sometimes. Maybe if everyone spent more time looking for good things in the world around us, the world around us would begin to be more full of glee.

  At least, that’s my theory.

  So like Paige, I’ll continue to live in Hollyworld and look for glee. And I’ll remind my readers to look for it, too. You can find me and my glee on a number of social media sites. Visit www.HollyJacobs.com for a list and links!

  If you enjoyed Not Precisely Pregnant, I hope you’ll consider leaving a review so others can find it as well.

  And don’t stop reading yet!! Here’s the opening from one of my first comedies, I Waxed My Legs for This? It’s followed by a list of my other books that are available on Kindle.

  As always, thank you for all your support!

  Holly Jacobs

  I Waxed My Legs for This?

  by Holly Jacobs

  Chapter One

  JACK TEMPLETON bounded up the stairs that led to Carrie Delany’s apartment, cursing her Bohemian spirit—the one that led her to lease a fifth-story loft in a building that had no elevator.

  “Carrie.”

  He beat his worry on the door with a quick succession of raps. When she called, Carrie had told him she was in trouble and to hurry.

  For the entire fifteen-minute race through traffic he agonized about what type of trouble she could have gotten into this time.

  “Coming,” she called.

  He breathed a sigh of relief that whatever the trouble was, she didn’t sound bad.

  The door slid open.

  Half of Carrie’s blondish brown hair was in a ponytail, the other half trailed wisps down her neck. She was wearing a disreputable robe, peeking out beneath it was his old football jersey—a shirt she’d borrowed back in high school and had never returned.

  Whenever Jack asked for the jersey, Carrie told him it was dirty and that she’d get it back to him as soon as she’d laundered it. It had been over a decade. Either Carrie had the worst hygienic habits on record or she intended to keep the jersey.

  But she looked fine.

  Relief flooded Jack’s body.

  Carrie looked a little nervous, but fine.

  After all the grisly possibilities he’d been imagining, a stolen high school jersey wasn’t much of a concern.

  “Are you okay?” Jack waltzed through the door and slammed it shut. He made himself at home, tossing his jacket on a chair and settling on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him. “You look a little green.”

  “I really did it this time,” she said with quiet resignation in her voice. “Why do I keep getting myself in these messes? I mean, I’m almost in my thirties. I have gainful employment. I got the okay on that dress for Jaycee Smith—you know, for the awards in Tennessee? It’s my first major commission. Eloise was almost more excited than I was. I was going to call you tonight and tell you. Maybe even invite you to celebrate.”

  She shook her head and sank awkwardly next to him on the couch. “I just don’t know how these things happen. I take my vitamins every day and run five miles on Sundays.”

  Jack lifted his eyebrow at that statement.

  He’d been with Carrie on more than one of her runs.

  She grinned. “Okay, I walk fast—”

  “And stop at every hot dog stand, doughnut shop, candy store on the way,” he said.

  “But I’m walking at least. And that’s not the point. The point is, I’m not dumb, I take care of myself, but I still—”

  He interrupted. “What is it this time?”

  She’d get to the point. Eventually.

  Sometimes Jack would allow her to meander her way around to her trouble, but he was curious and not feeling particularly patient. Carri
e’s predicaments were always interesting and inventive.

  “This,” she said, pulling her robe aside with flourish.

  She plopped her legs onto the coffee table. They were covered in...something.

  “What the h—” Jack cut himself off just in time.

  Carrie heard the potential swearword and frowned.

  He substituted, “Heck. What the heck have you done now?”

  He could see the tears gathering in her eyes and felt a wave of sympathy.

  “I’m going to the beach this weekend to work on my tan,” she offered, as if the statement explained the goop on her legs.

  “And?” he prompted.

  “And I didn’t want hairy legs. I mean, I’m almost a blonde, for goodness’ sakes. You’d think the hair on my legs would be as light and as fine as the hair on my head. Unfortunately it’s thick and black. I shave them in the morning and by dinner I have five-o’clock shadow. It’s embarrassing. So I decided to wax them.”

  She stopped and began to dig in the pocket of her robe, sniffing dramatically.

  Jack reached in his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief.

  It wasn’t fashionable to carry them, he knew that. But his mother had always been tucking one in his pocket when he was younger, and the habit stuck. It was a handy habit with a friend like Carrie.

  He handed the cotton square to her and she gave a very unladylike honk into it.

  “So you decided to wax your legs. What’s the problem?”

  She gave a muffled sob from the depths of his once pristine handkerchief.

  “It hurts.”

  She hiccupped—a side effect whenever Carrie cried.

  “I pulled the first section off and it hurt like crazy. Now I can’t make myself pull the rest off. I’ve sat here most of the afternoon trying, but I just can’t do it.”

  “And you want me to do it?”

  Any residual worry evaporated. Jack’s lips twitched as he dutifully tried to avoid smiling. He knew Carrie would see the humor in the situation, but not until the moment had passed.

  “I didn’t think it would be as bad as the time I asked you to get my class ring for me,” she offered.

  “Nothing could be that bad.” The memory was as clear as if it had happened yesterday. Oh, he’d tried to bury it deep, but it remained firmly unburied.