Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) (25 page)

“No more boundaries,” he whispered. “No more barriers. Just you, me, and the sea of emotions separating us.”

I cried out as his body claimed mine, entering swiftly, and I felt him inside me for the first time without anything between us.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, his head resting against the curve of my shoulder, as his heart raced against my chest.

“Jude,” I softly called.

He answered with a hard thrust that had my body reeling.

“Jude, please . . . look at me.”

His eyes finally met mine, and I saw torture and longing, love and sadness, and hope mixed with so much fear.

He stilled as I reached up, pushing back the hair that had fallen in front of his face. Molding my palm against his cheek, I kissed his chin and then his jawline before moving to the outward corner of his lip. I finally pulled him down, fusing our bodies and mouths. Our tears bled together as our souls reunited, reminding us of the never-ending bond we’d pledged to one another.

Love was eternal.

Love was endless, and love would carry us through the storm to the other side—whatever it might be.

I awoke the next morning, alone and disoriented.

My hands reached for him but found nothing but empty cold sheets. As my eyelids cracked open, I searched the room, trying to remember where I was—as anyone might do in new surroundings. Then, the memories of last night flooded my mind.

I bolted upright, looking around the room for something, anything, that would tell me it wasn’t a dream.

I found his dress shirt and tie slung over the edge of the bed—a simple sign that he was here, somewhere.

I stumbled out of bed, reaching for a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and I hobbled down the hallway in search of coffee and sustenance. I found my mom at the counter, reading the paper, while she nibbled on a bagel and sipped on a cup of tea.

“Hi,” I managed to say, my eyelids barely staying open long enough to find a cup.

“I see your husband arrived last night,” she said stoically.

“Yes,” I answered. “Do you know where he is?”

“Running,” was all she said.

I bit my lip and took a deep breath.

“You two talk?”

“No, but we will,” I answered, not offering any more information than that, as I quickly finished buttering a piece of toast and grabbed my coffee.

“Caffeine, dear,” my mother stated as she stopped me on my way to the patio.

“What?”

“Pregnant women really shouldn’t have caffeine.”

I looked down at my steaming cup of coffee, suddenly realizing who I was now.

I was no longer Lailah, the girl with the heart defect. I was Lailah, the mother-to-be.

Priorities shifted. It was a nice change of pace even if it meant giving up my morning cup of Joe.

“Okay,” I said, handing her the cup. I went back to the refrigerator for a bottle of orange juice.

I managed to catch the tail end of Jude’s marathon run as I settled into the recliner on the patio. His shirt was tucked in the back of his shorts, and as he ran, every fiber of muscle moved with him.

He looked like the same Greek god I’d fallen for in the hallways of that hospital.

Every female head turned to watch him speed by, but his attention was set dead ahead. He swung right and slowed to a walk. His eyes drifted up to the house and caught mine. His gaze intensified and followed me the entire way up the beach until he disappeared below the deck.

The door to the deck slid open about ten minutes later, and I watched him slip into a chair beside me. The smell of soap and freshly washed hair followed him as he moved toward me.

“We need to talk,” he said before turning back to the waves as they calmly fell, one after another, like clockwork.

“I can’t do what you’re asking me to, Jude,” I answered softly, my eyes falling to my nervous hands, as my fingers traced my wedding ring.

“I understand that.”

“You—what?” I asked, confusion marring my features, as my gaze met his.

“You made that abundantly clear when you left me.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Look,” he said, his hands running through his hair, as he bent forward, “I can’t make this decision for you. I get that now. But I also can’t stand around and watch as you allow yourself to slowly fade away. After everything we’ve been through, you at least have to know that of me.”

I sighed in frustration. “So, where does that leave us?”

“Together, Lailah! Don’t you get it by now? Don’t you see? The answer will always lie in us figuring things out together. We already tried life apart. It didn’t work.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” I asked, tears leaking from my eyes.

“Fight, damn it!” he answered loudly. “If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise that you won’t give up. Fight until your last dying breath. Do everything the doctors tell you to—no exceptions. Take every precaution and promise you won’t give up.”

He got up from his chair and knelt down in front of me, wiping away the moisture from my cheeks.

“Because I need you—yesterday, now, tomorrow. I’ll always need you. And if we’re going to be parents, I can’t do this alone. You’re the better half of this whole, and our child will need you as its mother.”

Tears poured down my face.

“You said,
our child.
”

“Yeah, I did. It’s kind of strange.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I choked out.

“Say you’ll fight for our family.”

Nodding wildly, I dived into his arms. “I’ll fight. We’ll be a family. I promise.”

As he held me, I sent a silent prayer to heaven, asking for strength.

This was one promise I never wanted to break.

“SO FAR, SO good,” Dr. Garcia said brightly. “I want to see you back here in two weeks, but it looks to me like you’ve got a fighter. Make sure you keep drinking lots of water, take your prenatal vitamins, keep up on your medications, and call if you have any questions or if there are any changes. Oh, and the nurse will show you the way to your ultrasound appointment.”

“Thank you,” Lailah said.

I moved to shake her hand. This was our third appointment in a month. Most pregnant women didn’t even see the doctor until they reached six weeks, but since Lailah was considered high risk with a high probability of miscarriage, we got the frequent-flyer card and came much more frequently. We’d turned down genetic testing for now, agreeing that the idea of not knowing was less stress and Lailah was convinced it wouldn’t change anything.

At this point, I wasn’t so sure.

So far, everything was running smoothly, but we still had the ultrasound, and until then, I didn’t think I would be able to take a single breath.

“Jude, can you hand me my shoes?” Lailah asked as she threw on her sweater and grabbed her purse.

I helped her into her flats and took her hand as she stepped off the exam table. The nurse was waiting for us, and we followed her down the hall to another wing of the medical office.

The first time we’d arrived at this location, I’d immediately voiced my concern that it wasn’t in the hospital. Lailah had laughed, pointing out that it was right next door.

“Yes, but it’s not part of the hospital. What if something goes wrong, and you need to be admitted? How long will that take?” I’d questioned.

“Marcus said she’s one of the best doctors in obstetrics, as far as he’s concerned. I’m in perfectly good hands.”

I’d grumbled but relented, agreeing that there was only one doctor in the family and it wasn’t me.

We’d decided to stay in California indefinitely.

Right now, we needed calm and serenity. We couldn’t get that in New York.

I’d thought Roman’s head might explode when I called him and explained I was taking a year off, but he had been surprisingly Zen about the entire thing.

I’d offered to be available for teleconferences and emergencies, but he’d just said, “We got it,” and that was it.

I hoped I would have a company to return to next year.

I hoped I would have a lot of things to return to in a year. Lailah and I had agreed to keep the dark thoughts to a minimum, believing that there was no point in mulling over what might be, and instead, we were focusing on the present we still had. But there were times I struggled.

Every time I saw her, I would stare just a bit longer, capturing the way her eyes looked in the warm California sun.

Every time I touched her, I’d linger, memorizing the way her body reacted to mine.

A thousand lifetimes would never be enough. This was true. For now, I’d gladly settle for one.

The nurse finished our quick tour of the office before dropping us off at the ultrasound waiting room. A woman and her husband sat across from us. Her stomach was swelling with their child, and he tenderly rubbed it and spoke in hushed tones. As they were called back by a technician, Lailah looked at me, a nervous halo clouding her normally bright blue eyes.

A quick wink and a nudge to her shoulder earned me a small smile before she tenderly rested her head against me.

“Will you do that?” she asked wistfully.

“What?”

“Rub my belly?”

“Only if you let me rub pudding all over it and lick it off,” I said, completely deadpanned.

Her head jerked up to look at me as she tried not to crack a grin. “You’re crazy.”

“You’d let me do it though, wouldn’t you?”

Her name was called before she could answer, but I saw her roll her eyes, and I heard the beautiful sound of her laughter as we made our way down the hallway.

Mission accomplished.

Google and I had become the best of friends over the last month, and I’d learned my fair share about pregnancy, including the importance of stress reduction to the mother.

It was a simple concept—happy mother equaled happy baby. In my world, that meant everything.

We were led to a small room filled with equipment I’d only seen in movies. Lailah was told to strip down, and she was handed a robe. We were given a few minutes of privacy while she shimmied out of her dress and sweater and quickly put on the hospital gown.

“I look hot, huh?” She twirled around once before fastening the ties at the top.

“You forget, I fell in love with you in a hospital.”

“Yes.” She smiled, taking a seat on the exam table. “But even then, I didn’t wear awful hospital robes.”

Remembering her affinity for yoga pants even then, I grinned. “No, but it wouldn’t have mattered even if you did. It was hopeless. You had me from that very first moment.”

“And I, you.”

We made idle chitchat until the technician came back, ready to do the ultrasound. My heart took residence in my throat as I watched her help Lailah into the stirrups and gently lean her back. I’d braced myself for the methods used for very early ultrasounds, but nothing could fully prepare me for the massive instrument the technician pulled out.

Lailah choked back a laugh as she saw my eyes go wide, but I refused to say anything, choosing instead to stand by her side and offer moral support.

“This might be slightly uncomfortable,” the technician warned as her hand disappeared under the drape of Lailah’s robe.

She winced, and I reached out for her hand. The pain must have been brief because she quickly relaxed, her eyes glued to the tiny monitor next to the technician.

“There’s your little one,” she said, smiling, pointing to a dark peanut-shaped nugget in the center.

I felt the breath rush out of me.

“Is this your first ultrasound?” she asked, looking back at Lailah.

She was busy staring at the screen. “Oh, um . . . no. I had a quick one at four weeks. It was a bit of a surprise, so they wanted to confirm the test.”

“Well then, I’m guessing at four weeks, you didn’t get to hear the heartbeat then?”

We both turned to her with wide eyes.

“Can we?” Lailah asked.

“Of course. Let me just . . .” She paused mid-sentence, clicking and entering things in on the keyboard.

Within moments, the room was filled with a whooshing sound.

We sat in awe, listening to the heart beating strong and fast, as the technician continued to do her thing. Lailah squeezed my hand, looking up at me, as her eyes filled with tears—happy, joyous tears.