Chapter Fifteen

Closing a Door and Opening a Window

Lilah's POV

The bedroom was crowded, filled with our furniture and now with a brand-new honey-hued maple crib and matching changing table, but it didn't feel cramped or uncomfortable, instead it felt like everything was finally as it should be. I had finally managed to find the bedding set that I thought would be perfect, and would jive with the color palette in the house, and had just put on the finishing touches when I heard the front door open, and the deep voice calling for me, making my heart flutter, just as it always did.

I hurried out of the room, well, as hurriedly as one was capable of when she was eight months pregnant, and found him in the kitchen, fridge door wide open, bending over to peer inside. Now, I'd had plenty of time throughout our relationship to admire his backside, believe me when I say that I'd made an extensive study on the subject, but this was a sight that greeted me far too rarely...my wolf man's buns accentuated rather nicely, almost shamelessly, as a matter of fact, by a well-worn, tightfitting pair of Levi Strauss blue jeans.

He generally tended to stick to the wearing of cutoffs year-round, which gave me the opportunity to admire his chiseled muscles year-round as well, but lately he'd taken to clothing himself in faded blue jeans that molded themselves to his body, just as tantalizingly in the front as they did in the back, if you know what I mean, and equally tight fitting plain white t-shirts. The amendment of his wardrobe was due to his new job in construction, fixing fences and chicken coops and whatever else needed to be done around town, and it was no wonder that the majority of the clients that sought his services were women. What better way was there to pass the day than to watch a gorgeous guy in tight clothing, sweating and toiling away on your behalf? It was a good thing that I had absolute assurance of his faithfulness to, and his love for, me, otherwise I'd be on edge all of the time, picturing one indiscretion after another.

After a few moments had passed by, standing with the refrigerator door open the whole time, even though he knew it irritated me when he did that, he found what he was looking for, a cold beer after a long day of work, and straightened, slamming the door and twisting off the cap. "Lilah, baby," he bellowed, taking a deep plug from the bottle, sighing appreciatively after he did so. "I'm home!"

He drained the beer in seconds and then stood still, more than likely debating over whether or not he should have another one, then, apparently deciding that a second one wouldn't hurt he opened the refrigerator door and bent inside, muttering beneath his breath because I hadn't rushed to greet him. Again I admired his backside and thought to myself that there were other ways to greet someone, ways that didn't involve a hug and a kiss, and with that line of thinking in mind I reached out and goosed him, never thinking that he'd react as badly as he did.

He let loose with a sound that could never be called masculine, not to any stretch of the imagination and jumped into the air. Unfortunately his head was still inside the fridge when he leapt into the air and I winced when I heard his noggin smack against the top of the refrigerator, followed by a string of curses that should have scandalized me, but I was too worried about him...and about what he might do when he got through cussing and rubbing his head.

I may have chosen the cowardly, yet wise, course of action and made a run for it, had I not been hugely pregnant, but the fact of the matter was that I was hugely pregnant, and as such I would have only made it a couple of steps before he caught up with me, had I chose to run away, and so I stood my ground instead, doing my best to smile apologetically as he turned around to glare at me, looking mad enough to spit nails.

He immediately started to smile, a reply to my own attempt at a grin, but his was the scary, slightly maniacal grin of someone who may very well have been beaming because they were imagining inflicting bodily harm of one type or another upon your person. I knew instinctively that Paul would never do anything to hurt me, or the baby, but he was also the type who reacted with anger first, and it was only after he'd had time to calm down that he would think rationally, so it was up to me to do my best to calm him down.

"I'm sorry, honey," I said softly, slowly approaching him, reaching out to stroke his arm. "I didn't mean to spook you...I just reacted, you know, caught up in admiring your...ahem...assets and gave in to temptation, not thinking of the consequences of my actions."

He blinked then, taking away most of the anger from his eyes, and his smile changed, from one that was maniacal to one that was smug and satisfied. I think that it was a common thing amongst men, to be pleased when they were told that they were irresistibly sexy by a woman, especially when it made said woman lose any sort of control over her senses, but Paul was especially conceited in this area. He was my wolf man, but he came across as more of a spoiled and pampered cat when I laid on the charm and told him that he made me so hot that I just couldn't keep my hands off of him...which wasn't a stretch on the truth at all, but which I endeavored to keep to myself as much as possible, lest I indulge his vanity.

"Is that right?" he growled, and I would have sworn that I felt the rumble of his voice grab hold of me right between my thighs, just like it always did. "Well...I guess I can't hold it against you then, can I sweetheart?"

He slowly moved toward me, wearing that smile that was so smug that it verged on the edge of absolute arrogance, reaching out his hand to cup my cheek, then traveling down to stroke my bulbous tummy, the one spot that was quickly becoming a favorite of his, competing well, even when boobs and butt were in the mix. He leaned down, obviously contemplating a smooch, when suddenly he drew back, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me.

"Wait just a minute sweetheart," he murmured, staring into my eyes, searching for something, a something that was the truth, I would imagine. "I think that I see it there in your eyes...yep...there it is...and that paired with the scent in the air...what is that, hmm...could it possibly be...oh, I don't know...bullshit, maybe?"

I reluctantly nodded, shifting from one foot to another, in an embarrassing mimicry of someone who needed to pee in the worst way. "I wasn't lying to you Paul," I insisted, smiling hesitantly in a bid to smooth over the feathers that I'd undoubtedly ruffled once more. "I honestly was so preoccupied with grabbing your ass that I didn't think about the fact that I'd probably startle you...that much wasn't bullshit...though I probably...I did...lay it on a tad thicker than what I felt. I just didn't want you to be mad at me, you know?"

I was glad that he returned the smile, paired with a gentle stroking of his thumb across my bottom lip. "It was stupid of me to get mad," he whispered, leaning down to replace his thumb with his lips. "I've been working on that problem, my temper, but I haven't quite managed to nip it completely in the bud just yet."

He had been making a real effort to stifle his tendency to fly off of the handle, and as someone who had somewhat of a temper, I knew that it was an accomplishment that would take some time. "I know you have, honey," I answered, wrapping my arms around his waist, nipping at his mouth with my teeth. "Come back into the bedroom with me."

His eyes darkened, filling with desire, while a smile that could be called nothing but wicked curled the corners of his lips. "Now you're talking, sweetheart," he said, bending to place one arm beneath my butt, lifting me up into his arms. I wanted to protest, to tell him no, that I was too heavy, but I knew that I'd just be wasting my breath, not to mention the fact that I'd probably insult him if I did so, so I just kept that thought to myself.

"That's not what I meant," I said, rolling my eyes and doing my best to pretend that I was exasperated by his tendency to leap to the notion of sex every time I said something that had even the teensiest hint of a double entendre, though I could see where what I'd said could have been taken as more than a suggestion, and instead be heard as an outright invitation. "I got the baby's half of the room finished just as you got home, and I want your opinion on how it looks."

"Oh...ok," he said, his face falling for just a moment, until he saw that I was watching him, at which time he quickly resumed a smile, though it paled in comparison to the lascivious grin that he'd had when he thought that he'd just got lucky. "That sounds great, sweetheart."

I bit back a smile of my own as I leaned forward to kiss his cheek. The poor man...I was always doing that to him, teasing him, but I'd be sure to make up for that later on, after we looked over the changes I'd made to the room. Of course, he'd done most of the actual work, assembling the crib and the changing table, all I'd handled was the decorating, but that was only because he'd refused to let me handle anything that he thought was more strenuous. Honestly, the way he acted you'd think that pregnant women were made of spun glass, ready to shatter at the mere hint of roughness...it was one of the many reasons that I was dreading the moment that I went into labor...it wasn't the main reason, but it was up there in the top ten.

He carried me into the bedroom and slowly, gently lowered me to the ground, to stand on my own two feet, and once again I was tempted to roll my eyes at his exaggerated precautions for my safety. What did he think was going to happen? Did he really think that I was so clumsy that I'd fall flat on my face if he didn't stand there; bracing me with his hands for several moments after my feet touched the ground? I found his concern touching...some of the time...but then there were other times when I wanted to tell him to stop mollycoddling me, because I wasn't some fragile little thing that was going to shatter if he didn't keep a constant eye on me.

He looked over at the crib, and for one brief moment he smiled approvingly, then just as quickly the smile died, and he just looked bewildered.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing in the direction of our baby's bed, throwing me for a loop. Surely he knew that it was the crib that we'd chosen together, the one that he'd assembled for me the night before.

"Do you mean the bed?" I asked slowly, my confusion evident in my voice. "Or were you referring to the changing table?"

I may have made an effort to cover up the fact that I wanted to roll my eyes at him, but did he bother with the same consideration? No, he made no secret of his eyes rolling heavenward, accompanied by an exasperated sigh. "No Lilah...I wasn't talking about the crib or the changing table. What I meant was the bedding that you put in the crib."

I turned to look at the bedclothes in question, the ones that he obviously found so offensive, and wondered why that was. I thought that they were absolutely adorable. Maybe it was because I'd picked them out myself, without getting his opinion, but then, he hadn't seemed to think that I needed his help when I'd mentioned it before, so this sudden change of heart was a surprise to me.

"You don't like it?" I asked, though I knew already that he didn't. "I picked it because it matches the walls, and because I thought that yellow would work as a nice, unisex color."

Again he rolled his eyes at me and I found that I was quickly growing tired of that particular reaction from him. "You can't put that girly crap on my son's bed," he said in a tone that immediately set my teeth on edge. "No boy needs pretty yellow blankets with freakin' bumblebees embroidered along the edges. What are you trying to do...turn him into a sissy or something?"

For a moment all that I could do was stare at him disbelievingly, not finding my voice until I saw that he was completely serious, at which time my temper bolstered my ability to speak once more. "You cannot be serious," I said, fighting against the need to shout. "First of all, whether or not I have your son or your daughter in here," I said, gesturing to my protruding stomach, "remains to be seen. Secondly, there is nothing that is predominantly feminine or masculine about this crib set...it will work for either one, and lastly, I seriously doubt that something as simple as the color of yellow, or the embroidering of bumblebees is enough to turn anyone into a sissy...and if it were that easy, we'd have to hide him from the world, lest he see the sun or the bees flitting around outside...but then there are all of the freakin' walls, the ones that are yellow, so I guess we're screwed no matter what we do, aren't we!"

I had started off my spiel with the best of intentions to keep a tight hold on my temper, to not shriek like a banshee, but in the end I didn't have the ability to stop myself from flying into a rage. I'd had just about had all I could take of his insistence that this child was a boy, as a matter of fact, if I even dared to suggest otherwise he'd grown withdrawn and sullen, like I'd insulted his masculinity. Another thing that I'd grown tired of was his macho, bullshit ideas about boys being tough, and not being sissies and decided then and there that I'd be damned if I would let him brainwash any sons that we had with his ideas on what made a man and what made a girly excuse for a man.

"The bedding stays," I continued, not even bothering now to lower my voice. "I consider myself to be someone who is open to compromise, but so help me Paul, if you so much as touch that crib set I will be sure that you regret it...do you catch my drift?"

I turned to leave the room, knowing that my racing heart and the fact that a fine mist of red had settled over my eyes were a good indication that I needed some time to myself. I'd been all set to be sweet to him, to demonstrate how much I wanted him, how much I needed him, but not now...hell, no...As far as I was concerned he could cut holes in his pockets and play with himself, the sexist little peckerwood.

I'd almost made it out the door, he was almost smart enough to let me get the last word, then I heard it, "Yes ma'am...Delilah," and all of my intentions to do the right thing went right out the bedroom window...along with the little rocking chair I'd bought with the intention of refurbishing it for our baby.

I guess he wasn't the only one with an anger management problem, was he?

Paul's POV

I'd been scared plenty of times in my life, not that I was one to admit it, but this had to be, no, scratch that, this was the most scared that I'd ever been. Part of me wanted to hide until it was all over with, until Lilah was safe and not hurting anymore, but that would have been the actions of a puss, so despite the fact that my stomach was turning cartwheels in the worst way possible, and even though I was sweating profusely, enough that it had soaked through my clothes, I bucked up the nerve to enter our bedroom, where she'd insisted on giving birth to our son, ready to do my duty as his dad, as her man.

The leech doc had found her a good baby doctor, a nice grandmotherly type, who'd decided, for some stupid reason, to take a vacation one week before my son was due to make his arrival, and abracadabra...Lilah had been gifted with having the vampire seated between her legs, looking at the sweet spot between her thighs, freakin' staring at the what I'd claimed as my own as she struggled against the pain, that had to have been nearly overwhelming, biting her bottom lip until it was torn and bloody, her stifled screams escaping as pitiful moans.

I stared at her most personal flesh, just like the good doc was, my fear increasing as I watched it contort and threaten to tear. Oh, crap...the moment was swiftly arriving and I was frozen in the doorway of our room, gaping like a damned moron instead of helping her in any way that I could, and for one crazy moment I wished that the mind control leech was there, anything that would afford me the opportunity to calm down.

He didn't have the ability to read minds, at least, not that I was aware of, but the doc must have sensed me standing there, frozen, and he turned to look at me, calm and collected, just like he always was.

"Lilah needs you right now, Paul," he murmured, smiling at me encouragingly. "It won't be much longer and your child will be born."

I would have corrected him, would have said that my son would soon be born, but kept my mouth shut, knowing that hearing me say that would make Lilah mad, and she didn't seem to need any help in that area...as a matter of fact, if looks could have killed I would have been dead and buried on the spot.

"It's about damned time you showed your face," she hissed, wincing from one pain or another. "You sure as hell didn't have any squeamishness when it came to making this child, but now that it is almost here you go and get all delicate on me..."

A contraction hit her, one that silenced her words, drowning them out with a shriek of agony. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes as she gripped the headboard with one hand, the other reaching out to me. I swallowed hard against my fear as the first sign of my son showed itself, the crown of his head covered with dark hair, bringing with it a trickle of pink fluid, not quite blood, but not just water either. My qualms were instantly forgotten, knowing how badly she needed me, and I rushed to the side of the bed taking her hand in mine, then climbing onto the mattress, placing myself behind her.

"Your baby's head is crowning, Lilah," the doctor said, taking hold of her hand, placing it between her legs. "It's time for you to push now."

This was a part that I remembered from the classes we'd gone to and as gently as I could I pulled her back until she was resting against my chest, placing one hand under each knee, helping to hold her legs apart. It occurred to me that the doctor was getting one hell of an eyeful from his position, but he may as well have been oblivious...or gay...for all of the notice he gave that he was staring at a very naked, up-close glimpse of womanliness. Of course, this particular glimpse was one that was swollen and strained, with a baby's head beginning its descent into the world, with blood and funk trickling down the edges...aw, shit...I hoped that he didn't get any ideas about taking a bite, once he got a good whiff of the blood, veggie only diet be damned, because it was going to put one hell of a damper on this happy day if I had to rip his head off.

If he had any ideas about turning bloodsucker on Lilah he did an admirable job of hiding it. His eyes searched hers, focused and filled with tranquility, growing serious as she arched back against me, her fingers twining into the sheets, twisting them until I was sure that I heard them rip as a pain hit.

"Alright Lilah...put your chin to your chest and bear down hard, like they taught you in Lamaze...one...two...three...four..."-Lilah shrieked and twisted the sheets even harder, definitely tearing them that time-"focus Lilah...five...six...seven...eight...nine...ten...very good Lilah...breathe now and rest while you can."

Ten seconds had never seemed to last forever, but that was before I'd experienced them while the woman that I loved struggled to bring our son into the world. It was the hardest thing that I'd ever done in my life, to see her in pain that was obviously excruciating, unable to do one damned thing to help her, no matter how much I wanted to.

"That was good, sweetheart," I murmured into her ear, leaning down to kiss her on her cheek. I halfway expected her to hiss at me to shut up, and it pleased me when she didn't. She leaned back against me, snuggling, until another contraction hit her and she shot away from my chest, crying out as her belly tightened, bearing down and pushing, just like she'd been taught to do.

Ninety minutes and she was still pushing, quickly growing exhausted as she moaned and panted, blood and fluid trickling from her body to soak through the sheets and the pad that was meant to protect the mattress. I held her and fought against my rising fear, against the gnawing dread that kept whispering that she could be slipping away, that maybe she was dying...and it was my fault.

"I can't do this anymore, Paul," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her cries of misery. "I want to stop right now. Please tell Dr. Cullen that I've had quite enough, and thank you for coming over, but that there's really no need for him to stay any longer."

She arched against me, seized by yet another pain, spasms that were becoming a source of torture for me as well as her. I met the doctor's eyes and despite my anguish I found that I had to bite back a laugh, an action that I saw mirrored on his face as well.

"You are the strongest woman that I know," I said softly, calmly, repeating "yes, you are Lilah," when she furiously shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes and falling onto her cheeks. "And you can do this sweetheart. I know that you want to stop now. I know that you're tired and that you're in pain, but Dr. Cullen's not going anywhere, baby girl, so you may as well accept that and get back to bringing our little one into the world, okay?"

"Bastard," she hissed, digging her nails into my forearms as she bore down on another pain. "I hate you."

"You just think that now, sweetheart," I answered, biting back a grunt of pain as she drew blood with her fingernails. "You'll think differently once our son is born."

She started to say something in response to my declaration, a something that would have been sarcastic and hateful, no doubt, but suddenly she went absolutely still, her mouth opened in a silent scream, unable to speak, or even to breathe due to the strength of the agony that grabbed hold of her.

"You're almost there Lilah," the doc said, reaching out to take hold of a tiny head, guiding it out, followed by the shoulders. "One more push and your baby will be born."

My son was nearly born, in a matter of moments I would be holding him in my arms, whispering secrets of the world into his tiny ear, reassuring him that I loved him, and that I'd never let anyone hurt him. I was going to be a good dad; I was definitely going to do a better job than my own dad had. My son was going to grow up happy, knowing that his family was complete. His life would be all that I'd wanted my own to be.

Just a minute before, Lilah had been under the impression that she was giving up, but once she realized how close she was, that the moment was within her grasp, her entire demeanor changed and when the doc gave her the last order to push, she did so with a renewed strength and energy, letting loose with a cry that was completely different from anything else I'd heard. This was the shout of a warrior woman headed into battle, and it scared me just a little, at the same time that it made me proud, knowing just how strong she really was.

There were many sounds that I'd heard in my life that I would call sweet, if I were pressed for an example, and most of them I'd experienced in the months since I'd found my Lilah, but now I knew what the sweetest sound in the world truly was. It was that first cry of your child, the one that starts as a tiny whimper, a hitch in their breath, followed by a lusty, almost angry wail as they come to the realization that they've been born into the world, and overall, it's a place that is an absolutely chaotic mess compared to their former residence. It's too damn bright, and too damn loud, and why in hell is it so freakin' cold?...at least that's what I imagine that the little ones are thinking when they're hit with everything all at once.

While I absorbed that sound, while my eyes filled with tears that I pretended weren't there, while I sniffled and laughed at the same time, I waited to hear what would be the second sweetest sound at that moment, the doc's affirmation of what I'd suspected, what I'd expected all of this time, and that was that our baby was a boy, was the son I'd dreamed of...but that's not what I heard.

"Congratulations Lilah...Paul...you have a healthy, and very beautiful, baby girl."

It felt like I'd just been sucker punched, a reaction I immediately regretted, but for the life of me couldn't chase away. How could this have happened to me? A daughter would have been fine, had she followed two or three sons, but not my first child. Dammit...I wasn't cut out for that sort of thing. I didn't know how to talk to; how to relate to a tiny female cub...there had to have been a mistake of some kind...yeah...that was it...a mistake.

Dr. Cullen cleaned the baby off and suctioned the gunk out its mouth, cooing and murmuring nonsense to it the entire time, which was a little freaky; let me tell you, coming from a vampire. Then he wrapped the baby in a clean blanket and handed it to Lilah, and all of my hopes for a mistake being made went out the window when I did a quick check of the place where its credentials should have been and saw that yes indeed...we had a baby girl.

I was mulling everything over, ashamed of myself for being disappointed, when the funniest thing happened. The little girl resting in my Lilah's arms turned her face toward me and gave me her full attention...and I felt like I'd been poleaxed. It wasn't the same kind of sudden and consuming bond that I'd felt for her momma...no...This was a sudden and consuming need to protect, to teach, to live for and to love this baby girl until my last breath. Everything became crystal-clear for me in that moment, as I stared into those eyes that were black like mine, along with her hair, while everything else was all Lilah and I knew what it meant to be a father...and that I'd be the best one that I could be, because my little girl deserved nothing but the absolute best.

Six Months Later

The day was unseasonably warm for late September, the temperature hovering in the upper sixties, which was perfect weather for an outdoor wedding. They'd set up a tent on the front lawn and it was filled to capacity with family and friends, all gathered to witness the joining together of a wolf man and his imprint. The bride was glowingly happy, clutching hold of a plump, smiling little one who'd been christened Pearl, turning to smile at the man she loved, an equally happy groom who helped her to hold their baby girl nestled between their bodies, both feeling that it was of the utmost importance to have their child in this position of prominence and significance while they pledged their lives to her, and to one another.

It was a promise that had already been made between the lovers, in private, where no one could see, but now was the time to share it with everyone else. The groom was a little worried, having only met his soon to be mother and father-in-law a week after his daughter had been born, knowing that they, the father in particular, weren't exactly thrilled by the swiftness in which Lilah had grown attached to Paul, and he really hadn't been happy about the fact that the baby carriage had come before the wedding, but all in all he seemed to be coming around...maybe...hopefully.

Before long they were officially man and wife, or more appropriately, wolf and imprint, though that was a fact that her mother and father would remain ignorant of. Bride and groom exchanged a long, lusty kiss, one that was so long and so lusty that it made more than a few people blush, and gave cause for the father of the bride to add a growl of displeasure to the mix before they finally drew apart to join their guests, the wolves, the leeches and those who fell in between in an afternoon of merriment.

And lo and behold, after the happy couple had swayed one another several times around the dance floor, they joined once more for another slow dance, this one with their precious baby girl nuzzled in their arms, and the groom gradually, instinctively became aware of a predator gazing hungrily at the little blessing clutched tightly in his arms. He raised his eyes and found the face of the one who was watching his sweet daughter, staring at her in a way that suggested that he couldn't look away, as if his very life depended on drinking in every detail of her face...and he growled angrily, snapping his teeth in denial.

You would dare to do this? She's my little girl, my daughter dammit! Did the plastic models and porn stars get too boring, Embry? Did you think that there'd be more excitement in focusing your attention on my baby instead, knowing that your life would be sure to be in danger? Have you become a freakin' adrenaline junkie?

The younger wolf reluctantly tore his gaze away from Pearl, whining and lowering his eyes in a submissive manner. You know that I can't control it Paul. I don't know why it even happened. I guess that's what I get for staying away from you so much, huh? It makes sense, when you think about it...she was always sleeping when I visited, or in the other room, or a million other things, and this was the first time that I really got a look at her. You know that this is an innocent thing Paul, a devotion that is pure and honest...not anything pervy, for chrissakes.

The older wolf snorted derisively in response. If there was one thing that Embry knew absolutely nothing about, it was purity, but he had to admit that the little jagoff was right about one thing...he didn't have any control over what had happened. It was something that was out of all of their hands...but knowing and liking were two very different issues, dammit, and it would be a hell of a long time before he got used to the idea of some worthless wolf imprinting on his baby girl.

Lilah noticed the change in her husband's demeanor and stood on her tiptoes, cupping his cheek and drawing his almost violent gaze away from Embry with some difficulty, smiling at him gently before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Whatever it is honey, it can wait until tomorrow...okay?"

He smiled, an action that resembled more of a grimace of pain and nodded, resuming the dance that had stopped while he stared down the little upstart who meant to steal his daughter away.

"Whoever came up with imprinting ought to be shot," he mumbled, leaning down to kiss the top of his daughter's head. It was a silly thing to say...his life would be like God knows what if imprinting hadn't existed. Ah, well...there were a lot of years to be enjoyed before he'd have to accept the inevitable...maybe he'd be able to get used to the idea, in time...right after hell froze over, of course.

The End