You guys are all unbelievably wonderful.
Two weeks.
Two weeks of recovery.
Two weeks of rehabilitation.
Two weeks of sensitivity training.
In total, eight weeks.
Eight weeks of absolute torture.
But within these eight weeks of extreme physical pain,
there was eight weeks of time off.
Eight weeks spent fully and totally with the love of my life.
With my blonde bombshell of a medical examiner.
And I couldn't be happier.
I'll never forget the look on her face when I came to.
Never forget the way her lips met mine.
I had opened my eyes and she was there,
back turned to me
face buried in my mothers shoulder.
She had been holding my hand, and the only reason I noticed was because she was squeezing it so hard.
So I squeezed back.
And as she turned to look at me, eyes wide and mouth wider, I swore I'd never seen anything as beautiful in my life.
And now here we are.
Eight weeks later into my recovery.
Eight weeks further into her pregnancy:
Twenty-nine of them to be exact.
Today will mark thirty.
I hear her call my name from the bedroom, and after I splash water on my face once more, I return to her side.
"Good morning." I say to her. "Rise and shine."
She stretches her arms, resting them behind her head.
I lean down and place kisses to her lips,
her cheeks,
her forehead.
I only stop when her giggle makes my heart jump.
"Can we do something today?" she begs.
I wiggle my finger at her. "You know what the doctor said, Maura."
She sighs. "Yeah, I know."
Six weeks ago we had the scare of our lives.
It had been a Sunday.
A normal, regular Rizzoli dinner Sunday.
We'd all been sitting in the living room, watching the game.
My arm was round her shoulder.
Her hand was on my thigh.
Then all of a sudden, her fingers clamped around my leg.
Her back shot up straight and she hissed in a breath.
Immediately, everyone's attention was on her.
"Maura," I breathed. "Maur, what's wrong."
Her brows were furrowed, knit together in some horrifying blend of confusion and pain and fear.
So much fear.
She opened her mouth to speak, but just as she did, another contraction hit her and the noise that came out of her made my blood curdle.
It made my heart stop.
Immediately everyone was on red alert.
I called the hospital to let them know we were on our way.
Frankie got the car running, opening the door as Tommy slipped into the back with her in his arms.
I slid in beside them, my hands on her knees, supporting.
My mom sped the entire way there.
In the end, the doctor had stopped the early labour.
But she asked Maura to stay in the hospital overnight for observation, and the next morning, she put Maura on bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy.
And now here we are, at thirty weeks, and my girl is restless.
Both of my girls are restless.
"All she does is squirm around." Maura says. "She's going to be just like you."
I laugh, run my hands over the smooth skin of her belly.
"Like mama like baby." I say.
I lean down and press my lips to her forehead, then press them once more to her mouth before lifting the covers around us.
"Tell me about her." I say.
I know she loves when I let her do this; when I actually request for her to use her google brain.
"Well," she begins, eyes sparkling with excitement. "We're at thirty weeks. That means she's got tastebuds. And she has fingerprints and footprints. She has hair growing on her head, too. Isn't that interesting?"
I nod, completely in awe of this perfect creature in front of me.
This perfect woman.
"She has a sleep cycle- that one I can personally testify to. She normally sleeps when I'm walking around and doing things because the movements feel like rocking. When I'm still is when she's awake, because she isn't being lulled to sleep by anything."
"Can you actually feel that?" I ask, amazed.
She nods.
"I can feel everything."
She looks down to her swollen belly and smiles, running the tips of her fingers over the skin she finds there.
"It's so strange, Jane. I don't even know her and I love her. I've never even seen her face and I already know that I'll never be able to look at it long enough."
I nod.
"She's is going to be beautiful." I say. "She already is beautiful."
And with that she leans over and kisses me.
Deeply.
Whole heartedly.
"You're beautiful." I whisper.
"Oh yeah?" She asks, something dark and playful in her voice. "Why don't you show me just how beautiful you think I am then, detective."
And I do.
Oh, do I ever.
Night falls and the day comes to a close and all I can think of is sleeping.
Turns out, spending my days playing fetch for a pregnant woman is tiring.
But she is wide awake.
And by wide awake I mean wide. a. wake.
So we are sitting at the island.
And my mother is animatedly talking about her problems at the cafe.
And she is laughing.
And I can not stop watching her.
She turns to meet my gaze and she smiles shyly at me.
A pink blush spreading down her neck and disappearing under the collar of her shirt.
She is blushing.
Because of me.
I never thought I could be the kind of woman who could make Maura Isles blush.
But I did it.
And I never want to stop.
Suddenly there is a knock at the door and she looks at me, worried.
I stand up and move towards it, but before I get close, her hand is on my arm.
"Stop," she warned. "I will get it."
"Maura." I protest. "Don't be ridiculous."
My eyes flash to the time on the microwave and that's when I realize it's 11:30pm.
"Nothing good can come from a knock at this time of night, Maur. Sit back down."
Before I know it, she is standing in front of me, blocking me.
"Relax." she says, hand pressed to my abdomen. "Just relax."
The urgency in her tone mixed with the stern look in her eyes makes me back down.
I drop my hands to my side.
"Fine, but I'm opening it with you."
She nods, but I can tell she doesn't like it.
Ever since my shooting, she's been nervous.
Nervous every time I step outside the threshold of our home.
Nervous every time I'm just out of her reach.
She moves towards the door and pulls it open, and when her breath hitches in her throat, I am behind her, pulling the door wider so I can see who's there.
"Ian," his name tumbles from her lips.
My heart jumps in my chest.
All of a sudden he is inside our house and putting his arms around her.
Lifting her off the ground.
Holding her close to him.
Every part of my body is pulsing, my heart beating frantically inside my ears.
"You have no idea how good it is to see you." he mumbles into her hair.
I hear her giggle.
She actually giggles.
And for a moment I think I might spontaneously combust.
I clear my throat and he puts her down.
She steps back and opens her arm to me, gesturing.
"You remember Jane." She says to him.
Her voice is breathy.
Her face is flushed.
And all too quickly I remember who this man is.
Remember who he is to her.
He stretches his hand to me and I shake it.
I'd rather break it in half.
But I hold myself back. Just chill out Rizzoli. I tell myself.
Then she invites him inside for tea.
And that's when I realize that I am one hundred percent not chilled out.
Maura leads into the kitchen where my mother is of course delighted to see him.
How typical.
How annoying.
"Maura," he says from across the island. "You really are glowing."
She blushes.
And I feel my ears heating up.
No one but me should be making her blush.
No one but me should have that kind of access to her mind.
That kind of access to her heart.
"Thank you, Ian." she responds all chipper. "I truly do feel wonderful. We're very excited."
She stretches her hand out to meet mine across the marble top but I pull back.
I am so. unbelievably. angry.
"I'm going to bed." I mumble quickly.
I wave my mother off as she tries to follow me, insisting I just need to sleep.
I climb the stairs two at a time.
Everything inside of me is screaming for me to go back down there.
How could I be up here when she'd down there.
With him.
I pace back and forth in the bedroom, trying to hear everything that I'm missing.
I hear the back door open, and then close.
My mother is gone.
And now it's just them.
Alone.
I press my ear to the cool wood of the bedroom door and wait.
I hear a mumbled "It was lovely too see you." and another "We must visit once more before you leave."
They exchange pleasantries, and even though I know I'm being irrational, I can not help it.
I can't change the jealousy rising in my throat and the anger that comes along with it.
Then I hear something else.
Something that makes my heart stop dead in my chest.
"I'm sorry about Jane." she says as she opens the door.
She is apologizing for me.
Apologizing. for. me.
"It's not a problem. I understand." He responds. "If I were her, I wouldn't want me around either."
And. then. she. laughs.
Laughs like it's totally normal.
Like she's been laughing at him all her life.
And for a scary second, I remember that she has.
She's known him longer than she's known me.
She's loved him for longer than she's loved me.
And it makes my heart ache.
There is a silence and I know he is hugging her.
I can almost feel the touch of his hands on her skin.
The door slides shut and I listen as she locks it.
I count each thick click of the locks, making sure she gets them all.
Then I move away from the door, stepping backwards until my calves hit the edge of the bed and I sink into it.
My elbows on my knees.
My head in my hands.
And my heart on my sleeve.
Thank you for your lovely responses to this story.
I hope I can continue to elicit the same response with the coming chapters.
Your input is always appreciated.
Blessings
O
