Chapter 7

Ranger's POV

Four Years Later

I checked the time as I fastened my watch, nodding to myself when I saw that we were still on track. Steph had finished her shower forty-five minutes ago. The hair dryer had stopped thirty minutes ago, and she'd completed her makeup while I was downstairs packing the gifts for my family into the trunk of the Porsche, and tucking the extra ones I'd snuck into the house under the tree for her to discover in the morning. And now, with ten minutes left before we had to be on the road, she was getting dressed and would have plenty of time to put the finishing touches on her hair.

As if the universe had heard my approval of how the plan was tracking, Steph appeared from the walk-in wardrobe with a frustrated growl, throwing off the groove we'd been in. Her hair was pinned up in an attempt to train her curls into something she deemed civilised while she finished getting ready, but little tendrils were escaping around the perimeter to cascade sexily over her forehead and neck. Her makeup was applied impeccably as always, enhancing her natural beauty and making me want to kiss the lipstick off her pouting mouth. While she already had on both the sparkly black turtleneck and deep red trousers she was planning to wear, the latter were not fastened. And it didn't take me long to discover why.

"They don't fit!" she moaned, tugging the two sides of the waistband closer together to show me, and hopping a little as she tried pulling them a little higher to get past the problem area. "I can't even get the button done up. I love these pants! They fit perfectly when I bought them a few weeks ago! I got so many compliments when I wore them to work! And some of the guys almost had an aneurysm when I dropped by Rangeman after and leaned over the desk to talk to you."

I was about to have an aneurysm now as she turned to the side and I caught sight of the shape of her stomach. All of a sudden it seemed so obvious, but I could have sworn she didn't look like that this morning.

"Babe," I murmured, halting her frantic movements and brushing her hands away so I could open the waistband back up, splaying one hand over the barely-there bump in awe.

"What?" she demanded, staring at me like I'd grown a second head when I was pretty sure she was the one currently in the process of doing so.

Her period had been non-existent for almost a year now - a side effect of the birth control shot she was on - so I couldn't even begin to figure out if she'd missed any monthly cycles, but this shape… I moved my hand back and forth, my touch barely grazing her skin as I felt out the new contour of her lower belly. I replayed all the times Steph had been feeling off recently, the times she'd been sick, trying to figure out a timeline. All the while kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner.

"We don't have time for whatever you're trying to start," she snapped, pushing my hands away and turning back toward the closet. "If we don't leave in the next ten minutes, we'll be late. And now I have to rethink my outfit because I'm apparently getting fat!" She let out a little snarl, waving her hand at the bedside table on her side of the bed where she'd set out a necklace and earrings. "Which means I have to rethink my jewellery too!"

"Babe," I repeated. It was all I could manage to get past the thoughts swirling through my brain, picking up speed so that I was pretty sure I'd need an intracranial tornado warning any minute now. I followed her in a daze, my eyes tripping over her form, looking for other changes I might have missed as she tore off her clothes and began rummaging through the racks in just her bra and panties. Were her breasts bulging over the top of the demi-cups? Was it wishful thinking? Seeing signs where there were none?

I hissed in a breath. Wishful thinking? We'd discussed the possibility of children, sure, but neither of us had professed any strong urges to become parents. Neither of us had professed any strong feelings against the idea either, but did I want it after all? I couldn't deny that thinking about Steph growing round with my child was causing a stirring behind my zipper that she was correct in stating that we didn't have time to deal with it. Already the tiny curve, that possible evidence of a life that was growing within, was awakening something within me that I'd never felt before. A level of love and protectiveness that surpassed even my own lofty standards.

She tossed a glance at me over her shoulder as she ripped another pair of pants off the hanger - this pair forest green - and her frustrations turned to anger. "Don't look at me like that, Carlos," she warned. "I'm in no mood. Either help me find something to wear or get out."

I did neither.

Still feeling like I was living in the twilight zone, I closed the distance between us, gently removed the pants from her grip where she was testing the waistband against her middle, set them aside, and urged her toward the mirror at the far end of the closet, fighting her protests all the way.

"I'm serious, Carlos," she seethed, trying to twist out of my arms, he breathing picking up. "Get your hands off me!"

I had her in front of the mirror now, staring as I turned side-on and held her against my front so that we'd both be able to see the bump. My hands drifted to it like magnets.

"Carlos, STOP!"

I released her at once. Hands up on either side of my head like she had me at gunpoint. My breath was caught in my lungs as I watched her turn and back away from me, worried that she'd have a flashback. That my single minded insistence and the way I'd failed to let go of her when she started to protest would bring back the memories of that night in the bakery when she was sixteen. We'd been fortunate enough over the course of our relationship, to have avoided such incidents for the most part. We'd discussed her apprehensions and anxieties at length and agreed on which words to use that meant we were nearing our limits and which ones meant 'hands off because I'm not comfortable'. "Stop," remained firmly in the second column, and knowing her history, I wouldn't dare to continue when she used it.

"Sorry," I murmured, taking a deep breath and seeking her eyes out for the first time in a few minutes. I'd let a different kind of single-mindedness grip me. I was so focused on her stomach and the possibility of what it meant that I'd let the communication and respect fall by the wayside.

Steph was glaring at me, breathing like she'd just run down the street. "I need to get dressed so we can leave," she said, her tone no-nonsense as she worked to calm herself, taking several slow, deep breaths. "I need you to leave so I can find something to wear that fits and we can leave and be on time for dinner."

I nodded, backing away with my hands still up. "I understand," I assured her quietly, fighting to keep my eyes on her face so she didn't get the wrong idea about where my thoughts were if my gaze drifted south. "And I'll respect your wishes. But Babe, before you get dressed, stand sideways in front of the mirror and look at your body."

"I don't need to see that I'm getting fat, Carlos," she warned, a dangerous edge that I rarely heard creeping into her tone. I was toeing the line here, but I needed her to see what I'd discovered, to understand what her body was doing. What we had done. "The evidence is lying in a heap at your feet. All I need is something that fits so we can be on our way."

"Please, Babe," I beseeched, using the one word that was guaranteed to soften her will and get her to comply. She'd proven to be a formidable partner and opponent over the years, and I couldn't have asked for a more perfect wife. She didn't hesitate to call me on any bullshit I attempted to pull to keep her out when I was struggling with PTSD or trying to keep some worrisome news from her. But by the same virtue, she was just as pigheaded when it came to trying to shut me out. I'd learned, though, that a simple please at the right time could go a long way. "Just have a look."

She sighed but turned to look at her reflection as I'd asked. Her brow furrowed and I held my breath as I watched her gaze darting all over her body for the longest thirty seconds of my life until finally her eyes locked on her lower belly. She sucked in a breath, trying to shrink the small swell, but it persisted. Her breath quickened and she turned this way and that, testing the view from different angles; even arching her back at one point to make the bulge more prominent. Finally, staring directly down at her stomach, she lifted shaking hands to the gentle curve.

"I…" she started, but the rest of her sentence died in her throat. "That's not…" Her eyes, wide as dinner plates, shot up to mine. "C-Carlos, is this…could I be…?" Her gaze drifted down again, and I risked taking a few steps closer, wanting nothing more than to provide comfort as we traversed this discovery together, but aware that she was still in a state of heightened emotions.

"Pregnant?" I finished for her, my voice barely more than a whisper, like saying it any louder would tempt some cruel twist of fate. "It's possible. You've been sick a lot recently, and you were complaining about your boobs being sore just yesterday." I knew better than to point out mood swings that I'd also been brushing off like they were nothing since she'd been under extra stress at work, but I filed that symptom away for later.

She shook her head. "No," she protested. "No, but I'm on the shot. Carlos, I'm on birth control! How can this-"

"As Abuela always said growing up, the only one hundred percent effective form of birth control is abstinence," I said.

I could tell by the wild look in her eyes she was starting to spiral. This revelation was too big. She wasn't handling it. Her mind was starting to slip into denial.

"Babe," I murmured soothingly, opening my arms. "It's okay." She let me draw her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her securely and pressing my lips to the curls on top of her head. I murmured words of comfort in both English and Spanish, rubbing my hands over her back as her breathing hitched and she pressed her face more firmly into my shoulder, silent tears moistening my shirt.

We stood there for several long minutes. Her crying jag was short, and she quickly got her breathing back under control, but until she started to pull back, I didn't make even the slightest move that would suggest I was releasing her.

Always let the person that needs the comfort decide how long the hug needs to be, Frank had advised in one of his semi-regular moments of divulging his hard-earned wisdom like some mountain top spiritual guru. I'd never thought twice about how to determine the proper length of a hug before he'd brought it up. I hadn't had too many situations in my life that required comfort-hugging. But his words had brought to mind the first time it had fallen to me to break the news of a fallen comrade to his spouse. She had clung to me, inconsolable, for almost an hour, and I hadn't felt comfortable brushing her off, knowing that her world was crumbling.

I hoped Steph didn't think her world was crumbling now.

"I need to get dressed so we can go," she said, swiping her fingers under her eyes. I passed her the handkerchief from my pocket and she used it to dab away the moisture lingering there more effectively before handing it back to me.

"Babe?" I asked, confused as to how she could switch her worry back to being late for dinner at my parents' house.

She shook her head, rifling through the dresses on the rack and pulling down a navy, long-sleeved number that I knew had a fitted bodice and full skirt. The fabric was stretchy enough that it would accommodate the more subtle changes in her breasts easily, and the fullness of the skirt would hide her new-found curves. "We need to stop by a pharmacy on the way before they're all closed because I am not waiting until after Christmas to find out if this-," she thrust her hips forward, her hands—one still holding the dress—framing the bump, "-is a thing or not."

I nodded, pulling her to me so I could press another kiss to her temple. I wanted something more passionate. Something to let her know how much I loved her. Something that told her I was here for her the same way I had been for the last four years. But despite the softening in her earlier anger and frustration, the possibility that she could be pregnant had derailed her thoughts, and she was still in no mood for that. "I'll let Mama know we'll be late," I assured her, my lips still pressed against her forehead. "I love you, Stephanie," I added for good measure.

"I love you, too, Carlos," she sighed, reaching up to hold my face against hers for a moment, turning her head enough to kiss the corner of my lips before she once again whirled away from me, unzipping the dress and starting to step into it.

I stopped at the first pharmacy we came to on the way out and ran inside for an at-home pregnancy test. Three, actually, just to be on the safe side. But when I handed her the bag and asked if she wanted to take the test now, she shook her head. "I don't think I can keep myself together if we do it now," she admitted, staring down at the bag. "If I take that test, we're doing it at home and we're not going anywhere afterward until we've come to terms with whatever it says."

I nodded that I understood, but said nothing, waiting for her to tell me what she wanted me to do. I would miss my family's Christmas dinner if that's what she wanted. There was nothing I wouldn't do for her. She was my world.

Letting out a deep breath, she tucked the bag with the tests under the seat and reached for my hand where it rested loosely on the gearshift in the centre console. "We're going to Mama's house," she said. "And we're going to pretend, for tonight, that nothing has changed." She nodded, affirming her decision, and added, "I'll need to pretend to have at least one drink, or Lester will be suspicious, but I can avoid having more than that."

I lifted our joined hands to my lips and kissed the knuckle just above her engagement and wedding rings. "Anything else?"

She leaned her head back against the headrest, but slowly shook it from side to side.

"Ready to go, then?"

"Ready for it to be over," she sighed.

We managed to get through dinner and the surrounding festivities with my family none the wiser about the thoughts spiralling through both our heads, returned home with the tests, and headed straight up to the ensuite bathroom.

While I stood in the doorway, Steph tipped the bag out on the counter and picked up the first one. She skimmed the instructions and set it back down, turning to me abruptly. "It says first-morning urination is best," she announced, stepping away from the tests and wrapping her arms around my waist. "We'll reconvene in the morning."

I nodded. "Okay."

Once again, I wanted to pull her to me, kiss her, and tell her with both my words and actions that I had her back and we would get through whatever came next. Together. But I was afraid I would say or do the wrong thing. I held myself back. While this was a life event that would affect both of us going forward, the fact was that it was happening to her body, not mine, so I needed to let her lead on this one.

"Help me shower?" she requested, lifting her gaze to meet mine in the mirror over the sink.

I agreed, and we shared slow, sensual moments, letting all the worries for the future drift from our minds as the warm water cascaded over our bodies and we joined as one. I dried her lovingly, and when we settled into bed, I curled around her with her back to my front but was careful to keep my hands above the waist so as not to cause a spike of anxiety if she read too much into my caress if it drifted toward the lower part of her torso. I wanted her to stay relaxed so she could get a good night's sleep, knowing that tomorrow would be wrought with emotion no matter what the tests said.

The next morning we'd both shed happy tears as the tests revealed a surprise Christmas present that we wouldn't be able to unwrap for several months, and tears of various other kinds continued to flow from Steph's eyes throughout the following days as we came to terms with what it meant for our lives. Three positive tests surely couldn't lie, but as soon as Steph's gynaecologist's office opened in the new year, she'd made an appointment to be sure.

We left the gynaecologist with a 'What to Expect When Expecting' pamphlet, a recommendation for prenatal vitamins, an appointment card for a couple weeks' time, and an envelope containing the first images of our unborn child who had, according to the ultrasound technician, been in existence and growing for around twenty weeks. We'd both been shocked to realise that Steph was already halfway through the pregnancy and we'd only just figured it out. We'd had such ready explanations for all the symptoms we'd noticed. And her morning sickness had been mild compared to how my sister Celia had been with her kids.

Steph had raised concerns about being so far along and barely looking pregnant, along with the fact that, since she hadn't realised she was pregnant, she hadn't been avoiding all the things pregnant people weren't supposed to do and ingest, but they'd assured us that everything looked healthy, and now that we knew we could make the changes to ensure the baby stayed that way.

Steph had me stop at the Crumb Together, her favourite bakery, on the way home from the appointment so she could buy a box of donuts, and then she'd shocked me by telling me to drive to her Dad's house instead of heading straight home. I'd thought for sure that the dozen donuts she'd just bought were for her to eat her feelings on the sofa in the comfort of our own home.

"Proud of you, Babe," I said, squeezing her hand when she slid it onto my thigh, palm-up, in a silent request to be held.

"I've had a week to come to terms with it," she pointed out, leaning the side of her head against the headrest to watch me while I drove. "This morning was just an extra confirmation tick-box. And besides, the sooner we tell people, the better. I almost blurted it out six times at Lester and Bobby's New Year's Eve party. Who knew I'd gained such a reputation for drinking at festive events?"

I chuckled, releasing her hand long enough to park and meet her on the sidewalk before I slotted our fingers together again. "Ready?" I asked.

She nodded, a determined look in her eye masking the nerves loitering behind as she stared at the front of the house. "Ready."

Beth opened the door with a puzzled smile on her face but greeted us warmly and led us into the living room where Frank was watching a replay of an old football game on his iPad, a steaming cup of coffee on the coffee table in front of him. He jumped to his feet when we entered, instantly wrapping Steph in the requisite bear hug she received upon arrival every single time we came over. I watched her shoulders tense for a second before she melted into his embrace, and when they broke apart, there were tears in her eyes again, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by Frank.

"Pumpkin?" he asked quietly. His hands were braced on her shoulders as he searched her expression and mine for signs of what had caused the show of emotion. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she assured her, shrugging off his grip to grab a tissue from the box on the back of the sofa and dab her eyes. "Nothing's wrong, we just dropped by to show you one of our Christmas presents." She pulled the envelope with the ultrasound image out of her purse, passing it to her dad, and stepped back to my side. I wasted no time in wrapping my arms around her, my hand coming to rest on the small bump where our son or daughter was growing. Gravitating there as they had increasingly often over the past week and a bit. The urge to not only feel the product of our love for one another in the swell of Steph's stomach but to protect them both completely overwhelmed me.

Frank barely had the image out of the envelope before Beth let out an excited cry, rushing over to pull us both down into a hug. "Congratulations!" she exclaimed, kissing both our cheeks. "Oh, you're both going to be such good parents! How have you been feeling? Do you need anything?" She started rattling off an excessive number of food, beverage, and comfort items she could retrieve as she led Steph over to sit on the sofa.

Steph shot me an amused look but assured Beth she was fine. "We brought donuts to celebrate," she pointed out, gesturing to the box I'd deposited on the coffee table beside her purse.

With that, Beth was back on her feet and bustling out of the room. "I'll fix some tea to go with them," she announced over her shoulder, and as she reached the kitchen her voice drifted back to us. "I'm gonna be Grandma."

And we were left with Frank who had barely moved a muscle since he caught sight of the ultrasound. Caught sight of the baby. Our baby. He lifted his eyes from the photo to meet Steph's gaze, now growing worried about her father's lack of reaction.

"Daddy?" she asked, her voice small.

He swallowed hard with an audible click. "This is a baby," he said, pointing out the obvious. "You're…" but he couldn't seem to bring himself to say the word out loud.

"Pregnant," Steph finished for him with a nod, tears forming at her lower lashes again. She reached out a hand toward him and he took the three mechanical steps necessary to sink down onto the cushion next to her, the hand not holding the ultrasound automatically reaching out to touch the small bump hidden under Steph's sweater.

"Are you…?" Again, he couldn't seem to finish his thought. I'd never seen him so lost for words. Silent, yes. He could keep his thoughts to himself and bite his tongue better than most. But our revelation had shocked him to speechlessness.

"Happy?" Steph finished for him again, resting her hand on top of his on her abdomen. "Yes." She looked at me then, a soft smile curling her lips upward, her eyes shining with love as I knew mine must be too. "I'm incredibly happy," she announced.

Those must have been the magic words needed to snap him back to reality, because in the blink of an eye, he had his daughter engulfed in another hug, murmuring congratulations into her hair. Something told me Steph and I weren't the only ones who were incredibly happy.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have once again underestimated how many chapters it would take to get to the end of this story, so please stay tuned for one more update coming tomorrow for the epilogue.