Chapter One Hundred Five

He moved off her and slid to the edge of the bed.  She watched him stalk to the bathroom and the near slam of the door had her wincing.  Shoving her hair back she sat up and dragged on her robe.  She couldn’t blame him for being upset with her.  For weeks she had been waffling back and forth.  Wear the condom.  Don’t wear the condom.  Whatever happens, happens.

 He was beyond frustrated.

 And she was too terrified to make a definite decision one way or the other.

She heard the bathroom door open and she watched him cross the room and step out onto the balcony.  She sighed and made her way into the bathroom.  She emptied her bladder and brushed her teeth before pulling on cropped sweats and a cami.  When she stepped back into the bedroom he was still on the balcony.  His shoulders were tense and frustration tightened his grip on the railing until his knuckles were white.  He was shirtless and his track pants rode low on his hips.  She stepped out behind him and laid her hand gently between his shoulder blades.  He stiffened at her touch and she pulled her hand away.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know” was his terse reply.  She was always sorry lately.  He was normally a very patient man.  But this whole baby situation had pushed him right up to the edge of his limit.  “You need to make a decision.”  He couldn’t keep doing this.  Getting his hopes up only for them to be dashed one night and raised up another, it was going to kill him.

“I know” she said quietly and she turned and left him on the balcony.  She made her way down to the kitchen and put water on for a cup of tea.  Not knowing what else to do, she did something she hadn't done since before she lost Mark.  She turned to food for comfort. She pulled out flour, sugar, vanilla and all the other ingredients she needed.  By the time the tea kettle whistled she had her batter nearly ready to go.  Leaving her tea to steep, she dumped a bag of chocolate chips into the bowl and pulled out two cookie sheets from the cupboard next to the stove.  

Richie followed the rich, sweet scent of fresh baked goods down the stairs and into the kitchen.  His eyes roamed to the counter where she was sitting with her mug and a plate of cookies.  An eyebrow raised as he moved to the cabinet to get a mug of his own.  “Cookies for breakfast?”  He set a pod of coffee in the Keurig, stuck the mug under it and hit the brew button.  He reached for a cookie.  They smelled too damned good to ignore and fuck, who could resist a fresh, warm chocolate chip cookie anyway?

He took his coffee and rounded the counter and perched on the stool next to her.  “What’s with the Betty Crocker routine?” 

She set her mug down and pushed the cookies away.  She was going to be sick if she ate anymore.  “I didn’t know what else to do.”

He sipped his coffee and his pinkie reached out to curl around hers where her hand lay on the counter.  “You could just try talking to me.”  Communication was key to any relationship and if she couldn’t or wouldn’t talk to him about this, what hope did they have of getting beyond it?

“You want me to make this huge decision and I want to, but I just can’t seem to make myself do it.”

“Why not?”  He thought he knew what her hesitation was, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

She tore her gaze from the countertop and looked at him.  He really seemed to not understand.  “I’m terrified, Rich” she practically whispered.

He drew his head up that wasn’t what he thought she was going to say.  He looked at her, really looked at her and finally saw the terror in her eyes.  “What has you so scared, Sweetheart?”

She swallowed down the lump that was forming in her throat.  “What if I get pregnant and I miscarry again?  I lost Ben to an unforeseen tragedy and then I lost our baby due to my own negligence.”  She still believed that the miscarriage was at least partly her fault.  “I’m not sure I could survive losing another one.”

He turned on his stool toward her and tugged her off of hers, pulling her into his arms, holding her close.  “I don’t want to go through that again either,” and it had been a million times worse for her “but you can’t think like that.”

She rested her head on his shoulder.  “I can’t help but think like that.”

“Sweetheart.”  When she didn’t look at him he gently nudged her with a shrug of his shoulder, “look at me.”

She reluctantly raised her head and looked at him.  “What?”

She looked so defeated he thought as her eyes finally met his.  Where was the strong woman he met a year ago?  “Do you want to have a baby with me?”

She nodded, “I do, but-”

He covered her mouth with his fingers, “no.  No ‘but’.  Do you want to have a baby with me?  Yes or no.”

She didn’t answer him right away.  She took a moment and really considered the huge undertaking that a baby would be.  Did she want to be pregnant again?  Yes, she thought.  She had loved being pregnant with Ben, loved the feeling of having a life growing inside her.  Did she want to go through the bottle and diaper stages again?  Middle of the night crying jags?  Potty training?  A smile started to curve one side of her mouth.  Yeah, she could deal with all of that again.  Was she willing to do it all herself when Richie was touring or even just across the country working with Jon?  Was she willing to take the risk of what might happen this time around?  She knew there were no guarantees but could her heart handle another blow if something should happen again? 

She blinked and looked up at Richie.  Hope shone brightly in those milk chocolate colored eyes of his.  He wanted this.  He wanted her to want this.  And looking at him, she realized she did want this.  She wanted to do this with him.  Her mouth curved the rest of the way into a hesitant smile.

“Yes” she managed to say around his fingers.

He pulled his hand from her mouth, “say that again, Sweetheart.”  He wanted to be sure he had heard her correctly.

Reaching up, she cupped his face in her palm, her thumb caressing over the stubble on his cheek.  “I said yes, Rich.  I want to have a baby with you.  No more questioning, no more hesitating.”

He turned his face and kissed her palm.  “I’m gonna get rid of the fucking rubbers.  Now.”

She couldn’t stop the chuckle.  “One track mind as always.”  Her expression sobered, “I can’t promise I won’t still be scared, but I do want to do this.”

He hauled her as close as the stool he was sitting on would allow.  “No need to be scared, Sweetheart.  Nothing is going to happen.  It’s all going to be good from here on out.”

She wished she could be as certain as he seemed to be, but she was going to do her level best not to think about all the bad that could happen.  She was tired of living in fear of the ‘what ifs’.  It was time to start thinking about all that good that Richie was talking about. 

“Rich?”  She pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

“Mmmm,” he returned the sweet kiss.  “What?”

“Let’s go make a baby.”