Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: As always, I love love love your reviews. You all have me laughing out loud reading them. Thank you so much!

Gsrmania, you're impressive--you have your husband much more involved than my fiance, and I'm writing the damn thing. :) Is he a psychologist? His opinions are very interesting. I was thinking about this today... Do you think that Jace is treating his child like a bargaining chip? I mean, okay, obviously he is... What I'm trying to say is... It's not all that uncommon, in my experience, for women to use their pregnancies to their own advantages, sometimes in minor ways, and sometimes in major ways--my sister had a friend who joined the national guard, but said that if she got called to go overseas, she'd just get pregnant. And I know that that's an example of doing so before the baby is real... but I know that a lot of men, especially in the first trimester, like when Jace made his ultimatum, have trouble feeling like it's real, because they're more removed from it...

Sorry, I spent my morning thinking about that. Which was good--I got yelled at, first thing, 6:15 am this morning, so I was glad to have other things to occupy my mind after that. Reviewers? Feel free to opine. :)

Hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter Fifty Six:

I was huge.

I mean, really, I'm tall, but I've got a rather small frame… there is no way my bone structure was adequately supporting all this weight. My back ached, my ankles swelled, my breasts throbbed, I was constantly peeing, never ever comfortable when I slept, and Ayla was apparently going to be a soccer player or a kick boxer or a dancer of one kind of another, because she was always kicking me. Always.

At the very least, I had read about having your baby be awake when you were, so she would also sleep when you were. So I would rub my belly, sing or talk to her, read aloud from the papers I was grading, tap my hands on my belly in time to the classical music I had picked up at Gil's suggestion, trying to wear her out… and it usually worked. She would take naps, but it seemed like she was kicking a lot less when I was trying to sleep.

It was one of these nights, before I tried this, when she was up and kicking, that I tried to calmly walk myself through the delivery and ended up only just staving off a panic attack, calling Kyleigh and Michelle in the middle of the night and apologizing but begging them to call Gil for me… Kyleigh passed the phone to Michelle, who managed to get me to calm down a little and slow my breathing before calling him him, telling me that I never had long and I needed to keep my head about me.

Really, she was hero in that moment.

And when I finally got to talk to Gil, admitting that I was scared to death to do it without him and yet still felt guilty for the fact that wanting him there would necessarily exclude Ayla's real father, Jace, who had been a lot better, in the last few months… he sensed the other thing—I felt guilty that I felt guilty. Like I was betraying Gil by not wanting to exclude Jace… and he vindicated me. Gave me a solution.

Now I just had to broach the subject with Jace.

I felt strange, in the kitchen, cooking his favorite meal… it felt strangely domestic. I mean, I had gone back to cooking for both of us after one of his takeout meals had given him food poisoning and he'd been up through an entire night, vomiting, but it was never personal… I would make sure it was done before he got home, I would dish up two plates, put one in the oven, and eat the other before he got home.

I would stay in the living room, trying to be civil, while he ate at the table… and when he came to sit beside me, I would make a decision—stay and watch TV with him, or retreat to my room. I usually made this decision based on how close he sat to me—opposite side of the couch or in a chair, I would watch an hour or so… stop when I got tired or bored—right beside me, I might sit through half an hour—and if he was too close, I would move away immediately.

I might be angry with him… I made hate what he was doing to me… but the fact of the matter was that I couldn't sustain hate for that long when he had done so many other good things. Not that saving me from being raped or having been the kindest boyfriend and most giving husband, prior to the cruise, made it okay to blackmail me into submission… but it meant that there was affection for him, mixed in with the anger. I could never love him again, the way I had for a time… not now that Gil and I had found each other, but I did want him to be happy… I wanted him to find someone who would love him back in a way I could not. I wanted him to have as much time with Ayla as Gil or I, I wanted us to find our way back to the comfortable camaraderie we'd shared, both when we'd just been friends and when we eventually became lovers.

I knew that, with everything we'd been through, when I left him for Gil we could not be friends… there was too much history and too much hurt… but couldn't we mutually wish each other well and think fondly on the time and the genuine love we'd felt? I mean, you know, when enough time had passed for us both of us to be that well-adjusted…?

But this was different—dinner would not be ready until just before he got home, and I would eat with him. I would be more than civil—I would actively ask about his day. And when I broached my suggestion, I would try to make the threat behind my words subtle, unless he made it worse. So it made me nervous, because I didn't want to send the wrong message… I was just trying to put him in a good mood. I briefly worried that maybe I was going over the top and should try to eat quickly, but when I heard the garage door opening, I gave up on that idea, instead dishing up two plates and placing them on the table to cool while I turned down the heat on the stove and cleaned up the kitchen quickly.

He stepped inside, and stopped dead. There weren't candles on the table and it was set casually, with our places opposite each other, not on either sides of a corner so that knees could brush intimately… but I could see from him face that it had surprised him. I straightened my back, thinking the best thing for it was to explain the meaning behind it immediately. He lashed out when his feelings were hurt, so I didn't want him thinking I was trying to rekindle a relationship and then have that idea fall through on him.

"I… was hoping I could talk to you about something." The tone of my voice gave me away—too professional, too distant. He sighed, his shoulders visibly dropping a little, but nodded as if that at least made more sense to him.

"This is really nice, Sara. Thank you." He looked at me and I recognized the longing behind his eyes—he wanted to draw me close to him and kiss me. I broke the eye contact.

"You're welcome. …Go ahead, sit down, I'll be out in a minute."

So he did, but he played the gentleman, waiting to eat until I had come to sit across from him, waddling around the table and lowering myself into my chair with a little difficulty. "…You look so cute like that."

My eyes darted to him in alarm, but he cleared his throat. "I wasn't trying to… it's… comical. But sweet. …Is she still kicking a lot?"

I offered a hesitant smile. "Always. I… I'll let you feel, the next time she is…" I said, because I suddenly realized that he had not once felt her move and hadn't even asked. Considering my behavior lately, he'd probably been afraid to.

A pang of guilt shot through me—how many times had I described it to Gil and said I so wanted him to feel it? I hadn't even thought of Jace wanting that… I simply didn't want him to touch me. I frowned down at my meal, realizing that though my anger had felt righteous and justified, it may not have been the best way to ease the man into feeling sympathy for my plight. I had behaved as a prisoner, and so he had treated me as one.

His gasp of surprise and his eyes lighting up made the guilt intensify. I vowed to be fairer, in the future. "Really? …I mean, you… Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure. Jace… I really wanted to bring something up to you."

"Go ahead," he said, setting down his fork. I smiled.

"You can eat, I know it's your favorite…" He grinned and picked the fork up, but his eyes kept flickering back to me, letting me know I had his attention.

"…My due date is coming up."

"I know! I'm so excited!"

"And, I… My doctor keeps telling me that the only people in the room with me will be the ones I choose… she wants it to be a stress-free environment."

He set his fork down again. "…Okay…"

"I don't want your mother… any of your family… to be there."

He sighed in what must have been relief and picked up his fork. "Of course, Sara. Whatever makes you comfortable…"

"There's more."

He swallowed and set his fork down again. "…You want him to be there."

I nodded. "I do."

He licked his lips, his eyes locked on mine for a long, long moment. "…Am I right to assume that if I say 'no,' then you won't let me in the room either?"

I bit my bottom lip. "…I was hoping you would agree without me having to give ultimatums."

"But you're willing to, if I don't." I nodded, slowly, and he sighed. "…Can I lay down a condition?"

I hesitated. "…What is it?"

"I… I don't want to hear him call her… his. Or… refer to himself as 'daddy.'"

While I understood this sentiment, the thought of telling Gil, who I did refer to as her daddy on a regular basis, that he couldn't do that…was unthinkable. I felt horrible, but I shook my head. "…I can't do that."

He exhaled in a huff that was simultaneously pained and desperate, leaning forward a little and closing his eyes tightly. I tried to imagine Jace having another woman call Ayla 'Mommy' and just the thought, so much easier to handle than the reality, had me clutching my rounded stomach in desperation, just to make sure she was still there with me. I swallowed hard.

"I'll… I'll make sure he doesn't say anything to imply… that she isn't yours. …We all love her, and I want… the delivery room… to be a place of truce. No harsh words, no fighting… just three people who love her and want to welcome her into the world…"

He sat still for a moment, seeming to consider this and also to realize that it was probably the best he was going to get. He nodded, slowly, and then glanced up at me. "…He's not… staying here. And… you two… I mean, you're not going to…"

I raised an eyebrow. "…You think I'm going to want sex right after giving birth?"

"No." he said, frowning. "But… before, you might. I… Sara, I can't handle the thought of that."

I cleared my throat, looking at the table. "Jace, I'm not in love with you anymore. But I do love you… I care about you… I don't want to hurt you, but you have to realize the position you're putting me in."

"…So you did. …You planned to have sex with him days before giving birth to our baby."

I shook my head. "Semen contains a chemical that can trigger labor early."

He snorted. "Oh god… I can't believe this. I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"I'm just being honest with you. I love him, Jace. I didn't mean for things to happen this way and it kills me that it hurts you, but…" I gasped softly, and he frowned.

"What?"

"…She's kicking."

His eyes lit up, which irritated me as at the moment she was kicking at my ribs and it was rather painful. "…Can I?"

I nodded, and he was out of his seat in a second, running his hand gently over my stomach, searching for the pressure. I took it, guiding him to the top of the bump, and the next kick landed squarely against his palm. He gasped and looked at me with a glow in his eyes. "Oh god… she's really in there." Without warning, he had put his head to my stomach, ear pressed flush to it, his voice coming soft. "…Hi baby. It's Daddy… Do you know how much I love you? Daddy loves you so much, baby…" Then he looked up at me in alarm. "…We don't have a name picked for her!"

I bit my bottom lip. "…I was thinking…Ayla."

He beamed. "It's beautiful…perfect." He turned back to my stomach. "Hi Ayla…" Another kick came where his hand was resting against me, and he chuckled. "Well, hello… Are you trying to talk to Daddy?" He stroked my stomach where she had kicked lovingly, as if he were caressing her head.

I smiled softly, feeling tears in my eyes. "It's Hebrew for… Oak Tree."

He smiled, glancing at me again. "Our first real date was under an oak tree… Do you remember? I took you on a picnic and that Frisbee hit you in the back of the head…"

I laughed, but I was a little uncomfortable… I hadn't expected the meaning to be significant to both Gil and Jace. I hadn't wanted that. I frowned, thinking that maybe we'd think of another name… but no, I had been calling her that since I'd discovered she was a girl. It was who she was, now. He didn't notice my discomfort—he was back to cooing to my stomach, absolutely enraptured. He glanced up at me, after a long moment, and sighed.

"While he's here, I don't care what you do, as long as I don't have to see it… but he doesn't come early. He can arrive on your due date or when you go into labor, and only stay a day after Ayla's born."

"…Okay." I said, knowing how hard this was for him. He offered me a smile that did not seem genuine—it seemed like it was simply the only expression he could muster to hide his pain. And I felt bad for it, but what more could I say to him? …For now, I would call this progress.