Lauren: Doing Nice Things

Kendra and Christian's first wedding anniversary is this weekend.  That's crazy, because it seems like they just got married.  Also, Kendra and Christian's anniversary means something really significant for me:  It means it's been a year since Alex and I had sex for the first time.  It took a few more weeks before we started sleeping together regularly, and then several more after that until our first date, but the night we had sex after the wedding seriously changed everything.

Anyway, it seems like a good reason to do something nice for him.  He's been doing such a disgustingly awesome job of responding to my boredom concerns, and I'm honestly terrible at doing things for him.  Unless, of course, you count giving him a hard time and having a lot of sex with him.  Then I do a lot of things for him.

I'm combing the internet for ideas when I suddenly realize that the Packers (my team) are playing the Broncos (his team) in Denver, on Sunday--which happens to be that anniversary I just mentioned (if you can even consider it an anniversary).  A quick trip to StubHub gets me exactly what I want: two tickets to Sunday's game.  They're decent seats, too.  I take a few seconds to be impressed with myself before I pick up my phone and text Alex: "Dinner tonight?"

He responds within minutes with, "Sure.  In or out?"  We figure out the details and I get back to work, because I don't think my boss would approve of me spending my work day finding a "happy sexiversary" gift for my boyfriend.

I'm as close as I get to giddy by the time I get out of work.  I can't remember the last time I was truly excited to give someone a gift, which is actually pretty terrible.  I hurry home to get ready, pulling my hair out of its low ponytail and running my straightener over the crease.  I touch up my makeup and I'm just going downstairs when the doorbell rings.

I fling open the door and greet Alex cheerfully, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him.  "Well, hello," he says, chuckling, once we break apart.  "You're in a good mood."

"I am," I agree, grinning at him.

We head out to the restaurant we chose earlier, and I'm practically bouncing.  I should probably do things for other people more often, because this is having an excellent affect on me.  Alex is watching me as I put my menu down.  "What?" I ask, frowning briefly.

He shakes his head and grins.  "Nothing, I just like seeing you smile so much.  Even if it is a little out of the ordinary."

"I smile all the time," I protest.  Alex cocks an eyebrow and I shrug.  "Okay, I can't help it that I have a serious case of resting bitch face."

He laughs and sets his menu aside.  "I was thinking about inviting Brody and Christian over to watch the game this weekend, what do you think?"

"No!" I yelp quickly.  Alex looks surprised, and I think fast.  "It's going to get intense, do you really want to display our football rivalry for everyone?  I'm embarrassing."

"Only when you yell at the TV, jump around, and swear really loudly," he says sarcastically.  "Oh wait, you do that through the entire game.  You're right, it's probably best if we isolate ourselves for this one."

"Good," I reply, sighing in relief.  I was going to hold off on giving him the tickets until Saturday, but now I see I should probably do it today, so he doesn't go ahead and make plans.  When I decide that, I smile again.  Alex is still watching me, and just he smiles and shakes his head.

I barely make it through dinner, and when Alex suggests stopping next door for a drink before we head back to my house, I suggest just having a drink at my house.  I have to convince him, but he finally agrees.  "What is with you tonight?" he asks when I take his arm as we walk out.

"I'm just really happy to see you," I reply.  I decide that it's good that I'm giving him the tickets tonight because otherwise he would be way too suspicious of my prolonged overly cheerful mood.

When we get to my house, Alex loops an arm around my waist and pulls me tightly against him.  "I want to see if your mood is contagious," he says, raising an eyebrow suggestively and leaning down to kiss me.

I wriggle out of his grasp and say, "Wait!  I have something for you."  Now he just looks confused, but he goes and sits down on the couch when I ask him to.  I run upstairs to get the printed off ticket confirmation page that I have stashed in my dresser drawer.  I'd like a little more time to make it more presentable, but that would be altogether too unlike me anyway.

I bounce back down the stairs, stand in front of Alex, and proudly present him with the confirmation page.  He gives me a weird look, then takes the paper out of my hand.  He reads it, looks up at me, reads it again, and says, "Wait, for real?"

"Yes, for real," I reply, beaming at him.  "We can't invite Brody and Christian over to watch the game because we're going."

"These are good seats too," he says.  He looks up at me again and smiles.  He sets the paper carefully on the end table and reaches for my hand, pulling me down into his lap.  "Thank you, Lauren. Is there a reason?"

"There are lots of reasons," I reply, shrugging nonchalantly.  "You've been so awesome lately--"

"Always," he cut me off.  "I'm so awesome always."

I snort and roll my eyes.  "Yes, you're so awesome always.  But especially lately." I shrug and look over his shoulder, because feelings are hard.  "You really listened to what I said about needing to get out of our comfort zone, and that means a lot to me."

"So you bought football tickets because I made you go camping and interrupted your work day unannounced?"  His eyes twinkle and I know he's trying to make me more comfortable by cracking a joke.

"Yes, that's exactly why."  I shake my head.  "But it's made me realize that I don't really do anything for you, so I wanted to do something for you."

He frowns and says, "You know I don't expect you to do anything, right?"  I shrug.  "Lauren, I'm happy with the way things are.  I love the challenge of coming up with new ways to torture you, and you do things for me every day just by being with me."

"Okay, now you're pushing my limits of sappiness," I say, laughing.  "Except there's also this, and this is probably the stupidest reason of them all:  Sunday is Kendra and Christian's first anniversary."

Alex gives me a strange look, but a split second later understanding dawns on his face.  The understanding is quickly replaced with a smirk that soon turns to laughter.  "You got me tickets to a football game for the anniversary of the first time we had sex?" he asks.  "That is such a bro thing to do."

I smack him in the arm and threaten, "I'll find someone else to go with me if you're going to be a dick."

"Hey!" he protests, catching my wrist in his hand and tugging me closer.  "I didn't say it was a bad thing.  It's actually probably the best thing ever.  But you have to admit that it's a total bro thing to do."

"That's how I knew you'd love it," I banter back, smirking at him.

"Did you just call me a bro?" he asks.  "It is on."  He flips me onto the couch and pins my arms above my head, then leans down and sucks hard on my neck.

"If you leave a mark I will kill you!" I yelp.  "I'm too fucking old to go to work with a hickey on my neck like a horny teenager."

"Should have thought about that before you called me a bro," he teases, but he moves his mouth elsewhere and sucks more gently.  He releases my hands and I pull his face down to mine so I can kiss him.  We kiss for several seconds, then he pulls away and looks down at me.  "Hey," he says, "I love you.  Thank you."

"For being lovable?" I ask, sassily.

"Absolutely," he says, smiling.  "And for being you.  And for the tickets."

I smile back.  "You're welcome, and I love you too.  But are you going to be able to handle being there in person to witness the Packers beating the Broncos at home?"

Alex bursts out laughing.  "Starting the trash talking early, huh?  Don't forget that you get far more worked up about football than I do."

"I get far more worked up about everything than you do," I reply, rolling my eyes.  "But I don't have anything to worry about."

"You're so sexy when you're being a cocky jerk."

I shut him up by pulling his face back down to mine.  We make out for awhile but stop before we get to the point of removing any clothes, and just lay on the couch together.  "Did you pick out a hotel in Savannah yet?" Alex asks, playing absently with a piece of my hair.

"I narrowed it down to a couple, and I thought we could make the final decision together," I tell him.

"You thought what?" Alex asks, pretending to be shocked. "You're going to...let me help?  Do you feel okay?"

"On second thought, never mind," I say, shaking my head.  "I've got two picked out:  A nice one for me and a shitty one for you."

Alex chuckles and pushes his hand into my hair, lightly scratching my scalp.  I sigh and close my eyes, trying to resist the urge to push my head at him like a cat.  "I'd love to look at what you picked out," he says.  "Do you want to look now?"

"No," I say, sighing happily.  Alex adds his other hand, now massaging my scalp with both hands.  I lean back against him and let him continue for as long as he'll do it.  He makes it nearly 10 minutes before he quits, dropping a quick kiss on the top of my head.

We end up looking at the hotels I've picked out and choosing one.  We book it and do a little Savannah research together, curled up on the couch.  When we're done, we head up to bed early and take full advantage of the extra time in bed.

I snuggle up next to him and grin when he pushes his hand back into my hair.  "I'm excited," Alex says as he drags his fingertips across my scalp.

"Still?" I ask, fighting a yawn.  "We just had sex twice."

"Do you think about anything but sex?"

"Not if I can help it," I reply.

Alex sighs and shakes his head, but I can imagine his amused smirk.  "You're worse than a bro.  I meant for the game."

"Ah," I say.  "Well I'm really glad that you're excited."

"It might be the best gift I've ever gotten."

"Okay, now you're laying it on a little thick."

"I'm not, but I'll stop before you get uncomfortable," he replies.

"Too late!" I say.

Alex chuckles and moves his fingers to my neck, which he starts gently massaging.  "I love you, Lauren."

"I love you too," I reply.  I shift and fling an arm across his torso, then fall asleep while he's still rubbing my neck.

Lauren: Sexting is a Thing

I'm just feeling all sorts of bonus-y this week, apparently!
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I'm sitting at work, practically dying of boredom.  I hate the days I'm stuck at my desk in my little cube.  I much prefer the days I'm testing equipment and out in the field fixing things.  I'm a structural engineer by trade, and I work for a company that makes and sells medical devices.  It's a lot more exciting if you're actually an engineering nerd, I promise.

Today, it's only 9:30 and I'm already fried for the day.  I can't look at numbers and dimensions and computerized models anymore.  I want to go home.  I text Alex, whining about my lack of exciting things to do.  He doesn't text me back, and it irritates me more than it should, mostly just because I'm desperate for some entertainment.

As if he heard my thoughts, Logan pops his head into my cube.  "Want some coffee, pretty lady?" he asks.

Gross. I'm not that desperate for entertainment.  Coffee does sound amazing, though.  I have a brief mental battle before I roll my eyes and say, "Thanks, but no thanks.  I have a ton of work to do."

"I'll pick it up.  I'll even pay," he offers, sweetening the deal.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted, but I knew I had to stick to my guns and not do anything to encourage Logan's flirting.  I've been seriously committed to blowing him off ever since Alex and I had that awful fight.  Things have been so much better, and I'm not interested in fucking it up.

"That's a nice offer, but I'm okay.  Thanks, though," I say.  I turn back to my computer, signaling to him that he should leave.  He lingers for several seconds, then shrugs and walks away.  I sigh in relief.  Once I'm pretty sure he's gone, I get up and walk to the break room.  I sort through the K cups that are sitting in the drawer and stick one in the Keurig.  It's not quite an amazing latte from the great place down the block, but it's better than instant coffee, at least.

I walk back to my desk and sigh.  I don't have any more reasons to not get some work done.  I pull up our computer program and get to work.

I end up getting sucked into the project I'm working on and am startled when my phone rings.  It's our receptionist, and she says, "There's someone named Alex here to see you."

"I'll be right up," I tell her.  I'm confused.  Why is Alex here?  He grins at me when I make it up to the lobby.  "What are you doing here?" I blurt.

He laughs.  "I came to take you out to lunch."

"Why?"

"You were complaining about being bored.  So I thought we could have lunch."  He shrugs, not looking even a little put off by my less-than-ideal response.

"I would love to.  Um, I'm right in the middle of something though," I say, fidgeting. "I didn't know you were coming, or I wouldn't have gotten into it..."  I haven't even realized that it's lunch time.

"Relax, Laur," he replies.  "I can wait if you need to finish something up.  You know my time is flexible."  It's true.  His work day is super flexible (within reason, of course).  He can start anytime between 7:30 and 9, take lunch anytime, and leave anytime after 3:30, as long as he gets 8 hours in.  He usually ends up working through his lunch so he can leave early, but he can take as much time as he wants, as long as he stays long enough in the afternoon.

"Well, I won't be able to finish it now anyway.  Let me go make sure I saved what I was working on, and we can go."  I hurry back to my cube, save my work, and close the program.  I glance quickly at emails, respond to one, and then close that too.  Then I hurry back out to the lobby.

"Ready?" Alex asks.  I nod and we head out the door.  Once we're outside he takes a second to wrap his arm around my shoulders and kiss me on the cheek.  I shift closer to him so he'll keep his arm around me.  "Plotting how you're going to kill me in my sleep?" he asks.

"Oh no," I reply.  "For disrupting my routine in the middle of a workday, I will absolutely do worse than that to you."

Alex laughs.  "Good, I can't wait."

"Seriously though, it was a nice surprise," I admit.  I stop outside a small restaurant that only serves breakfast, lunch, and really amazing coffee.  "This place is good."

"Works for me," Alex agrees easily.  We walk inside and seat ourselves at a small table near the windows.  "Boring day, huh?" he asks once we're settled.

"I've been staring at my computer all day," I complain.

"Sounds awful," he replies, smirking.  Alex always stares at his computer all day.

"You like staring at your computer," I protest.  "I think I just need a vacation."

Our waitress appears with menus and takes our drink order.  After we decide what we want and place our lunch orders, Alex looks at me thoughtfully.  "What are you thinking for Thanksgiving?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, are we figuring something out together?  Are you going home?  What are your plans?"

I blink in surprise.  I honestly haven't even really though about Thanksgiving, but I guess it's only a month away.  "I guess I don't really know," I say.  "I don't think I'll go home, though.  Do you have something in mind?"

"Well, my parents invited us both down to their new place for Thanksgiving.  We could make a vacation out of it, if you wanted."  Alex's parents had just moved to Savannah, Georgia for his dad's job.

I frown.  Alex's parents are nice, but I'm always super uncomfortable around them.  They're the definition of suburban perfection and I just don't feel like I fit in with them very well.  They always seem confused by the idea of someone growing up with a single parent and it never fails to make things really awkward.

Reading my expression, Alex says, "I thought we could get a hotel room, at least for part of the trip.  My parents might think it's weird if we don't stay with them for a little bit at least.  We could go down the weekend before, get a hotel room, and not even tell them we're there.  Then we could stay with them Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday nights, and come back on Saturday."

"They'll know," I say.  "Or if they find out, they'll be upset."

Alex shrugs.  "Then I'll tell them, but I'll tell them we're spending the first half of the trip by ourselves.  They'll understand."  They won't, but they're his parents.

"Well, if you don't think they'll be upset, that actually sounds like fun," I agree.  And it does.  Savannah was never a place I had wanted to go to until Alex's parents moved there and I started doing a little research.  It looks like a really amazing city.

"I'll even let you pick out the hotel," Alex says, grinning at me.

I roll my eyes and reply, "You sure do know how to turn a girl on."

I'm disappointed when we're done eating and it's time to go back to work.  It's been a nice break and definitely a nice surprise (which is not typically a thing I enjoy).  As we're walking back towards my office, I groan inwardly when I see Logan heading in our direction.  The last time we ran into him, Alex had acted like a complete asshole about it.

"Out to lunch with the boyfriend and you didn't invite me?" Logan asks once we're near enough.

"Hmm, I must have forgotten to tell my secretary to fill you in on my social calendar," I reply sarcastically.  "Super sorry about that."

Logan turns to Alex and grins.  "Good to see you, man," he says to him, holding out his hand.  To my surprise, Alex returns his greeting.

"I've got to get back," I say.  "Have a good lunch."  Then without waiting for him to reply, I start walking.

Alex doesn't miss a beat, staying in step next to me.  "I can't stand that cocky motherfucker," he mutters.

"I couldn't tell," I reply, raising my eyebrows.  "Looked like you guys were about ready to start a bromance."

Alex shrugs.  "Last time I was a dick.  I learned my lesson.  I can be an adult and be polite for 30 seconds."

"I appreciate that," I tell him.  By now, we're outside my office and I break my no-PDA rule and loop my arms around his neck.   "Thanks for coming to surprise me, and thanks for lunch," I say.  "It was really nice to see you and get out of the office for a little while."  I knew he'd have to stay much later than he usually did at work in order to make this happen, which made me appreciate it even more.

"I really liked it too," Alex agrees.  "We should do this regularly."

"Or irregularly but more often," I say, smirking.

Alex laughs at that.  "What?  You mean with no routine to it?  Who are you?"

"Shut up or you'll make me change my mind," I reply.  Alex grins and kisses me, then we reluctantly say goodbye.  Neither of us is in a hurry to get back to work, but my day isn't as flexible as Alex's and I'm cutting it dangerously close as it is.

I do feel refreshed when I sit back down at my desk, and I quickly get back to work on the project I was in the middle of when Alex came.  Once I finish it, though, I realize I have over an hour left in my workday and literally nothing to do.  I glance around and realize the office is pretty empty today.  I've got a pretty good cube set up (if there's such a thing), and I'm in the back corner, with a wall at my back and my left side.  That means that on days like this, I can easily dick around on the internet without my boss strolling up behind me and catching me on Facebook.

I open up Chrome and start browsing hotels in Savannah.  I'm on my third one when my phone vibrates on my desk.  I grab it and see a text from Alex.  "Forgot to ask at lunch.  Can I see you tonight too?"  It always surprises people that we don't just automatically spend every waking second outside of work together.  I need more "me time" than Alex does, but we're both really respectful of that for each other.  I think it's part of the reason we haven't yet driven each other insane.  We both like to spend time with our friends without the other person, and I need a solid amount of time completely by myself to function happily.

I look at my phone and start to reply, and then I get an idea.  I reply, "Yes!  Any particular part of me you'd like to see?"  I hit send before I can change my mind.  I see Alex's text bubble appear, then disappear, then it appears again, and just sits there for awhile.  I hope it's because he's surprised by my incredibly out of character response, and not because he's totally turned off by my fairly safe first ever sexting attempt.

Finally, his response appears.  "I'd love to see all of you, and I can think of a couple parts of you that I'd like to pay special attention to.  (We are sexting right?  I didn't totally misinterpret that?)"

I snort at his response, but don't blame him for being confused.  I quickly type out my response.  "Yes, we're sexting, you idiot.  Don't ruin it.  Now, what kind of special attention did you have in mind?"

We continue back and forth for the rest of the work day.  I feel really dumb and uncomfortable at first, but I loosen up as I get used to it.  I'm impressed by some of the completely filthy things that Alex has the balls to text to me, too. Somewhere in there we establish that I'm going to Alex's house after work.

I stop home after work to grab clothes and makeup for tomorrow.  Alex has offered to let me keep a few things there if I want, but what if I don't feel like wearing any of the things I have there?  Or what if I want to wear one of those things on a morning that I'm at home?  I also jump in the shower quickly, taking care not to mess up my hair or makeup.

Alex doesn't answer the door right away when I ring the doorbell, so I try the knob.  It's open, so I push the door open and step inside.  He's coming down the stairs with just a pair of athletic shorts on, hair wet and messy from a shower that he must have just gotten out of.  See, that's another nice thing about not spending every day together.  We still put in a little effort for each other, even for just a night in.  We haven't gotten lazy yet.

As he walks down the stairs, it's clear my tight, lacy tank top under my cardigan hasn't gone unnoticed.  His eyes drift next to my leggings-clad legs and a slow smile spreads on his face.  "Leggings on a gorgeous woman are a gift from the gods," he says, smirking and cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Shut up and do something more productive with your mouth," I demand, taking a step towards him.  I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull him forward to meet my hungry kiss.  The hour and a half of sexting this afternoon has me desperate for his touch.  He takes my direction well and kisses me back eagerly while his hands travel through my hair, over my neck, and down my back, stopping at my ass, which he squeezes as he pulls my hips tight against his.

Alex lets go long enough to slide my cardigan off my shoulders and tug it away from me, tossing it onto the floor.  That's the only piece of clothing that actually makes it all the way off, though.  Within 2 minutes, Alex has me facing the wall, my leggings around my calves, and is pushing into me.  I turn my head to the side and rest my cheek against the wall as he thrusts into me, bracing himself with one palm flat against the wall.  I move my head until I can reach his wrist with my mouth, and I suck and kiss from the base of his thumb to the inside of his wrist, focusing my attention there when he groans and his hand tightens on my hip.

Alex moves the hand on my hip, leaving me to brace myself against the wall as he wraps his arm around me and his hand moves between my legs, stroking me in time with his hard thrusts.  It takes less than 30 more seconds for me to come, and Alex keeps his fingers pressed against me, moving his other arm to wrap around my waist and keep me upright on my trembling legs.  He doesn't stop or slow down as I ride out my orgasm, waiting until his arms around me are absolutely the only thing keeping me on feet before he pauses, deep inside me.  I feel him lean forward and then his lips are on the back of my neck, working their way from my hairline down to my shoulder.  I shudder and whimper in pleasure when he starts moving again, slowly this time.

My legs are working again, and I readjust and push my hips back to meet him.  His hand between my legs starts moving again, his fingers making slow, lazy circles.  His other hand leaves my waist when he sees I'm steady and travels up under my shirt and my bra, finding my nipple and toying with it.  I can feel a second orgasm building, more slowly than the first.  Keeping one hand on the wall to brace myself, I move my other hand up behind my head, finding Alex and twisting my fingers tightly into his hair.  He groans and drop his head forward, letting me get a better grip, and I tug and hold the handful of hair tightly in my fist.  His fingers on both hards start working faster and he leans forward, pressing his chest against my back.  Right before I go over the edge again, I hear his breath hitch and feel his stomach muscles tighten, and we both end up on our knees on the floor.

I don't know who lost it first, but it doesn't matter.  Alex's forehead is pressed against my shoulder and we're both breathing hard and still trembling with the aftershocks of our orgasms.  Once my brain works again, I slump back against Alex and say, "What the actual fuck just happened?  Jesus."

"I don't know," he replies, "but I want it to happen again.  Not now.  Maybe next week."

"So, sexting is a thing."

"A good thing," Alex agrees.  "A thing we should do again."

"I think I need to go to bed now," I say.  I'm still slightly dazed from the best sex I've ever had.

"We'll have to get off the floor first," he points out.

"Mmmm, I guess I'm good here for a little longer," I reply.  I don't think my legs work yet.

Alex chuckles and carefully untangles himself, then stands.  He holds his hands out to me and I let him pull me onto my feet, which is easier said than done with my leggings still tangled around my ankles.

Once we get ourselves straightened out, Alex declares that he's hungry.  I realize that I am too, and my functioning is slowly coming back to me.  We end up in the kitchen, cooking dinner together.  Normally, this is not a thing we do, because (and this should surprise no one) I'm very particular about the little bit of cooking that I do, and I have a hard time letting go and letting other people do things their way.  But I'm in such a great mood from the amazing sex we just had, plus seeing Alex at lunch and starting to plan a little vacation, that we work together perfectly.

After we eat, we clean up together and then curl up on the couch together.  I burrow under Alex's arm and lean into his side.  "Okay, now you're kind of freaking me out," he says.  "You enjoyed a surprise appearance in the middle of your workday, agreed to spend Thanksgiving visiting my parents, sexted me out of nowhere, cooked with me without making us both miserable, and now you want to cuddle?"

"Don't get used to it," I reply.  "I don't understand it either.  This is your one-time opportunity to pretend you have a normal girlfriend for a day.  Enjoy it while it lasts, because tomorrow I'm back to normal, standoffish, Type A Lauren."

He shakes his head.  "Man, you messed up.  Now I know what it's like for you to be normal and not really weird.  Now I'm definitely going to expect it.  You just screwed yourself over."

"Sucks for you," I say, shrugging.  "Not my problem you're going to expect miracles every day."

He laughs and kisses the top of my head.  "It would be way too weird if you acted like this every day.  It's nice every once in awhile though."

"It is kind of nice," I agree, shifting and getting more comfortable.

We spend the rest of the evening cuddled together on the couch, alternating between quietly watching TV and bullshitting about random things.  By the time we go to bed, I'm definitely all cuddled out, but just before I slip into sleep, I find Alex's hand and weave my fingers between his.

Kinsley: Beautiful Mess

A bonus post, for your reading pleasure :)
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As I walked up to the doctor, I heard, "...probably lucky her neighbor saw her and called 911.  8 Xanax and about half a liter of vodka, it's a wonder her respiratory system didn't just completely quit.  Anyway, she'll be fine, but we're going to hold her for a psych eval.  You guys can go back and see her now.  She's in room 1322."

My dad looked at me.  "Go ahead, honey."

I took a deep breath and took a step towards the door the doctor had motioned to.  I looked back at Damien.  "I'll wait here," he said.

I shook my head, suddenly petrified to go by myself.  "Come with me, please?"

My dad gave me a dirty look and said, "Kinsley, I don't really think that's appropriate--" but I cut him off by turning away and walking through the door, hoping that Damien would follow me.  He did, and I was relieved.

My mom was awake and she looked up when we walked in.  "Kinsley!" she said cheerfully.  "Oh, hello Damien.  I see I've finally figured out how to get a visit from my darling daughter.  How are you two?"

I stared at her.  Was she fucking kidding?  "Really great, Mom," I replied sarcastically.  "Damien had a great time fielding the phone call from Dad that you were here, and an even better time breaking the news to me.  It's been pretty fun sitting here in the hospital waiting to hear if you were okay, too."  Damien put his hand on my lower back, a silent request for me to calm down.

"Well I'm glad you aren't worried," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Should I be?" I asked.  "Were you trying to die?"

"Of course I wasn't!" she snapped.  "I just wanted to get some rest.  I got that, and the added bonus of seeing my beautiful daughter and her handsome boyfriend.  So all in all, I'd say it was worth it."  My mom grinned at Damien and winked.  My stomach churned and I gritted my teeth to keep from saying something I'd regret.  "You don't ever visit me anymore," she continued.  "We never do anything.  And I really wish you'd bring this good looking man around a little more.  Maybe if you weren't too busy for your mother, this wouldn't have happened."

"Don't you dare," I hissed.  "Don't you even fucking dare."

"Kinsley," Damien said quietly.

"No!  I'm not going to sit here and let her blame this on me too!"  I turned back to my mom and continued.  "This is just as much my fault as your divorce or your car accident!"  I wasn't aware of how loud I was getting until a nurse poked her head in the room and asked if everything was okay.  When Damien said yes, she firmly directed me to keep my voice down.

"I don't know how you can sit here and yell at me," my mom replied, pouting.  "I almost died, Kinsley."

I swallowed hard, then pulled away from Damien.  "I need to go," I said, directing my statement to the corner of the room.

"You just got here," my mom pointed out innocently.  "You didn't even sit."

"I just...need to go.  I need to fucking go."  Without looking back to see if Damien was following me, I strode out of the room.  I walked back through the door and through the waiting area without even looking at my dad or Christina.  I walked all the way to the elevator and then stopped, because I honestly didn't know if we needed to go up or down.  Down, I assumed, but I wasn't positive.  Damien confirmed my guess by hitting the down arrow.  He didn't say anything, and for once I was thankful for his unflappable calm.

We rode the elevator silently and then I trailed after him through the hallways and out to the car.  I yanked the passenger side door of my car open and slumped into the seat, curled against the door.   I pulled Damien's sweatshirt off, because now I was hot, and squished it into a ball, squeezing it tightly against my chest. Still silent, Damien navigated back to my house and when we got there, I went straight inside and up to my room.  I threw myself on my bed like a child, burying my face in my pillow.  I was so angry.  And sad, finally sad.  I felt like I needed to cry, but tears weren't coming.

I felt the mattress shift as Damien sat down on the edge of the bed.  He reached over and pushed my hair to one side and stroked the back of my neck.  When I didn't move away, he began to rub my back.  After almost a minute, I rolled over and wrapped my arms around his waist.  He kicked his shoes off and shifted so he was leaning back against the headboard, and pulled me against his chest.  I shut my eyes and tried to match my erratic breathing to his deep, even breaths.  "I'm sorry," I mumbled, once my breathing had slowed to a normal rate.

"Why?" he asked, sounding confused.

"I'm a fucking disaster.  I feel like a crazy person.  And you had to witness it all."

"Your family is a disaster," he corrected me.  "Not you.  I think you've turned out pretty damn good."  I waited for the "even though", but it didn't come.  I was so grateful that he didn't just consider me an inspirational success story.

"I would have made an even bigger scene if you hadn't been there," I admitted.  "I feel like an idiot already.  Thank you for being there with me."

"Thank you for letting me be there with you," he said softly.  I thought about that and realized that I hadn't even thought twice about having him there.  I wanted him there.  And he knew exactly what to do (or what not to do, as it were).  It had been really nice to have someone to support me in something like that, where I normally would have gone it alone.

I looked up at him and bit my lip.  I had the sudden overwhelming urge to stop thinking about my family and to stop feeling all the shitty emotions I was feeling.  I sat up and kissed him tentatively, not sure how he'd respond after the day we'd had.  But he kissed me back, wrapping his hands around my waist and shifting me into his lap.

I moved my lips from his and sucked lightly on the spot on the side of his neck that made him groan.  His fingers tightened, digging into my thighs and I moaned softly, pressing my hips into his.  My mouth continued on its path up his neck until I got to his ear.  "Fuck me, Damien," I breathed, nipping at his earlobe.  "Hard."

His fingers tightened again, this time on my hips.  When he had a good grip, he flipped me off him and moved, pinning me to the bed with his hips.  "Yessss," I sighed as his teeth raked carelessly across my collarbone.

His confidence with the rougher stuff was steadily increasing as he grew more sure he wasn't actually going to hurt me.  He still didn't like anything that left a mark (the red handprint he'd left on my ass once was too much for him, even though it had faded within an hour), but he was fairly comfortable with anything else.  I still couldn't get him to talk dirty to me, but I'd take what I could get.

He stood and grabbed my ankles, yanking me to the edge of the bed so he could pull my jeans off.  I sat up to take my shirt off, but he pushed me back down, pinning my wrists at my sides.  He kissed, licked, and nipped his way up my inner thigh before running his tongue lightly along the skin right next to the lacy boyshorts I was wearing.  I groaned and shifted my hips, trying to get his mouth where I wanted it.  He nipped sharply at my inner thigh before climbing back up on the bed and kissing me hard.  I moaned against his lips as he moved his hips--still covered by his jeans--against me, pressing himself against the thin material of my underwear.  He moved away again and tugged me into a sitting position, pulling my shirt over my head and unhooking my bra.  I reached for the button and zipper of his jeans but he caught my wrists in one hand and held them tightly while he tugged and twisted my nipples with the other.

He moved his hips back against my body and ground them against me while tugging on one nipple with his teeth and rolling the other between the fingers of his right hand, with my wrists still trapped in his left hand.  I wrapped my legs around his, holding him against me, and I think I surprised us both when I came, locking my legs tightly and shuddering against him.  He pressed his lips to mine, dropping my wrists in favor of winding his fingers into my hair to tilt my head up to his.  I took advantage of this and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them and his boxers down, and wrapping both hands around him, slowly sliding them up and down.  He groaned into our kiss and his tongue sought mine more aggressively.  I pulled away and said again, "Fuck me."  This time I was pleading, and he yanked my underwear off as he pushed me further up onto the bed and forced my legs apart with his knees.

I whimpered in pleasure and dug my fingers into his shoulder blades as he finally pushed into me.  Honoring my request, he slammed into me hard and fast, again and again, until I quivered and shook beneath him, then came apart, crying out and clawing at his back as my hips moved against him with a mind of their own.  He silenced me by pressing his lips to mine, and then as my grip on his back relaxed, he started moving again, slowly this time.  I lifted my head to keep my lips attached to his as he shut his eyes and began to tense.  I moved my hands from his back, around his ribs, and up his stomach to his chest.  He growled, his face in my hair, and I slid my hands up just a little bit further, then lightly raked my nails down the back of his neck.  With a groan, he finally came, his arms shaking slightly as they supported his weight above me.

Damien lowered himself to his forearms and dropped his forehead down to mine.  We were both silent, breathing hard and sweating.  He kissed my cheek, then said, "Kinsley?  What's wrong?"  He rolled off of me and looked at me, brushing his fingertips across my cheek.  In the late-afternoon light, I could see the wetness glistening on his fingertips.  I swiped furiously at my cheeks, trying to erase the tears.  "Did I hurt you?" he asked, concerned.  I shook my head and sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop the sob welling up in my throat, but it was too late.

"No," I choked out, wanting to reassure him that he did the opposite of hurting me.  "I just...today..." I shook my head; I was crying too hard now.  "I'm sorry," I managed to gasp before I completely lost it.

"Oh, Kinsley," Damien said.  I pulled my knees to my chest and curled into the fetal position, pressing my forehead to my knees, sobbing.  "Kins, it's okay," he soothed me softly.  He wrapped himself around my curled up body, pulling me against him and rubbing my back.  "Breathe, baby," he said, pushing my hair out of my face.  Just like he knew I needed his silence before, he knew I needed him to keep talking now, and he quietly reassured me while I sobbed.  I cried until I didn't have the energy to cry anymore, and then I just stayed in my ball, sucking in ragged, shallow breaths.  As I quieted, so did Damien, and soon we were both silent again, aside from our breathing.

I wiggled away from him and reached for the blanket, but it was just out of range of my outstretched fingertips.  Damien sat up and grabbed it, and when he laid back down I scooted over and curled against his side, head on his chest.  He settled the blanket over both of us, smoothing it over my back and my hip.  I felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to make Damien understand my outburst in the hospital and my tears, and I began telling him stories about my family.  I'd told him generally about my mom and dad, but not many specific stories.  I'd never told him (or anyone, for that matter) about my brother.  As far as he knew, I was an only child.  He listened quietly, absently stroking my arm while I babbled away.  I talked for nearly 45 minutes before I stopped as abruptly as I started, exhausted from the events of the day.

"Wow," Damien said when I finished.  "I...don't know what to say.  Not that I questioned your actions earlier, but I certainly understand them better now."

"It's nice of you to lie and pretend like you weren't completely embarrassed by the way I acted at the hospital," I mumbled, turning my face towards his chest and shutting my eyes.

"It takes a lot more than that to embarrass me," he replied, kissing the top of my head.

"Shit!" I yelped, sitting up straight.  "Dinner!"  It was Sunday, which meant dinner with Damien's family.

"I already called my mom and told her we wouldn't be able to make it today.  She invited us to come tomorrow instead if we wanted to, but I told her I'd have to see how things went today."  Damien tugged gently on my arm, trying to get me to lay back down.

"But we have to go," I insisted, shaking my head.  "We agreed.  I told you I'd go to dinner on Sundays."  In my unstable state of mind, the idea of not following through on what I'd agreed to was seriously distressing, and I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes again.  "I just need to shower and we'll go.  Are we late?  What time is it?  We have to, I promised."

"Kinsley," he said gently.  "It's okay.  Things come up that make plans change, and today certainly qualifies.  My mom understands, and so do I.  I don't want to go, and I don't think you're in much a mindset to go."

I crumpled back down, simultaneously relieved and still distressed.  "I'm a mess," I agreed despondently.

"You're a beautiful mess," he replied.

I abandoned my plan of dinner with Damien's family, and allowed the exhaustion to take over.  Damien got up to go pick up some food, and I managed to fall asleep while he was gone.  He let me sleep, and I woke up around 8:30, hungry, groggy, and disoriented.

I stumbled downstairs after I had pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.  "Damien?" I asked, squinting in what seemed like the ridiculously bright light of my living room.

"Hi," he replied.  "I didn't want to wake you because I figured you were exhausted.  Do you want me to heat you up some food?"  I nodded, collapsing in a heap on the couch.  I shut my eyes and listened to Damien's footsteps go into the kitchen.  I heard a cabinet open and close, then a drawer.  Then the fridge.

I opened my eyes when he reappeared in front of me, offering me a plate, a napkin, and a fork.  "Wine, beer, or water?" he asked.

"Water, please," I croaked.  Somewhere in the back of my head, the prideful part of me was feeling guilty for letting Damien take care of me like this, but logically I knew I wasn't in any sort of place to take care of myself, so I was thankful for it.  He returned with a glass of water and I took it gratefully.  "Thank you," I said, smiling weakly at him.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked, looking at me with concern.  I shook my head, and he sat down and returned his attention to the TV, letting me eat in peace.

"Thank you," I said, as I finished.  "You didn't have to stay with me all day, I appreciate everything you did today."

"Stop thanking me," he said gently.  "I'm glad I could be here with you today."

Uncomfortable, I changed the subject, talking about random things.  We ended up quietly watching TV together for another hour or so, and then went to bed.  After my long nap, I struggled to fall asleep, and I tossed and turned until I finally drifted off around 3am.  I was grateful that Damien is a sound sleeper and slept through my wiggling around.

I had barely been asleep for an hour when Damien's phone rang, startling us both.  I sat straight up, confused by the sudden intrusion into my sleep.  Damien fumbled for the noisy fucking thing and answered groggily.  After listening for about 30 seconds, he said, "Okay, I'll be there," and hung up.

"Work?" I asked sleepily.

"Work," he confirmed.  He got up and walked to the bathroom to take a quick shower.  I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and downstairs to make him some coffee.  It was the least I could do.

When he came downstairs, he smiled.  "Thank you," he said, taking the travel mug I offered him.

I sleepily returned his smile.  "If you're done with work on time, I want to have dinner with your family tonight," I told him.  He looked surprised, then nodded and told me he'd let me know.  Now that I didn't have to spend all of my free time with his family, they were really growing on me.  I still wasn't ready to become a family-oriented person, but I was starting to enjoy being kind of a part of a relatively normal, loving, nurturing family.  Anything was better than my family, really.

Damien kissed me and left, and I trudged back up to bed.  I tried everything I could think of but couldn't fall back asleep.  I tossed and turned until 6 am, then called in sick to work.  Somewhere around 7, I finally fell back to sleep.

Kinsley: 312 Steps

Even though I love to work out, running and I don't get along.  I just hate it.  I would much rather spend my time in a spin class or lifting weights, or doing something that's actually fun outside like kayaking, or hiking, or skiing.  I actually want to like running, but I've tried a few times and I just can't get into it.

When I decided, right after our Labor Day camping trip, that I wanted to try again, Damien offered to run with me.  I'd rolled my eyes and basically said "thanks, but no thanks."  Damien was one of those people that loved running, and there was no way I'd keep up with him.  But he prodded me a little, promising to go at my speed and help me come up with a workout plan that didn't suck.  Finally I agreed, and it turns out that when you turn running into a social activity, I like it a lot better.

It had now been a little over a month and I was running two miles without stopping, which was pretty good since if I was running by myself, I'd huff and puff for about 2 minutes and call it good.  He even had me getting up and running on Sunday mornings with him.  He'd go out and run for awhile, then come get me and we'd run together for a little bit.  It's actually pretty disgusting in that "couple that does all the things together" way.

Today when we got back from our run, Damien told me to go ahead and shower first.  I refuse to share the shower, so he was used to that by now.  I took a little longer than I had planned because once I got in the shower I realized I desperately needed to shave.  By the time I got out, Damien was sitting on my bed.  "Sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to take so long.  It's all yours."  Then I turned and saw the serious look on his face and instantly got nervous.  It was the same look he always got when I was freaking out about something stupid. "What?  What's wrong?"

"While you were in the shower, your phone rang.  I didn't answer it, but it was right there, so I saw it was your dad calling.  He called back again as soon as your voicemail picked up.  I thought it might be an emergency, so I answered."  I shifted nervously, wishing he'd get to the point.  "Kinsley, your mom is in the hospital; it sounds like an overdose.  Right now she's not conscious.  Do you want to go to the hospital?"

I stared at him, processing this information in my mind.  I was so surprised by what he said that all I could register is that he asked me if I wanted to go, he didn't assume.  I felt like he finally understood how I felt about my family.  He waited patiently while all this went through my head.  Then the weight of what he said hit me, and I nodded mutely.

"Okay," he said.  "Why don't you put some clothes on, and then we'll go."

"But you didn't take a shower yet," I pointed out.

"I can shower later," he replied calmly.

I stood there in my towel and shook my head stubbornly.  "No, you gave me the shower first, and I took forever.  You should shower."

"Kinsley--" he started, looking confused.

"Would you just take a goddamned shower?!" I snapped.  I had no idea why I was so upset about a fucking shower, but right now it seemed like a reasonable thing to be upset about.  I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath so my next statement could come out more calmly.  "Please.  Please just take a shower.  I need a minute to get dressed anyway.  You shouldn't have to not shower because my mom is crazy."  Then I turned away and dug in a drawer for a pair of jeans.  I heard him stand and seconds later, the shower started.

By the time I was dressed, he was out of the shower and drying off.  I wasn't in a hurry, so I slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair, and by the time I was ready to go, he was too.  I almost said "I told you so," but what would it have accomplished?  Not a damn thing.  So I kept my mouth shut for once.

"Do you want me to drive?" Damien asked at the bottom of the stairs.  I took my keys out of my purse and handed them to him wordlessly.  He locked the house behind us and opened my car door for me.  I got in, put on my seatbelt, and rested my head against the cool window.  Damien got in and started towards the hospital.  He glanced at me once or twice, but he didn't speak, and I was grateful.  I didn't want to talk.  I don't know what I'd say.

We got lucky and Damien found a really good, recently vacated parking spot.  He led me through the doors, into the elevator, and pressed a button.  I didn't even see which floor he'd hit.  I didn't really care.  I briefly wondered how he knew where to go, then realized he probably got the information from my dad.  I wouldn't have thought to do that, but of course he did, because he functions perfectly when things are going wrong.

Damien led me to a small waiting area and I was pretty sure I couldn't get myself out of here on my own if I tried.  I looked up and saw that my dad and his fiancée, Christina.  I wondered why she was here.  She didn't give a fuck about my mom--obviously, since she didn't mind fucking him while he was still married to her.  Though, to be fair, my dad was here and neither did he.  And my fuck-giving about my mom was questionable on a good day, and here I was.  My dad rushed over to me and hugged me tightly, despite me trying to shy away from it.  I didn't want to be touched.  "What took you so long?" he asked, looking from me to Damien.  "Was traffic bad?"

"Dad, it's Sunday morning," I said, rolling my eyes.

He glared at me.  "You could show a little respect, with your mother in the state she's in."

I almost laughed.  Almost.  I also considered asking my dad why he cared about the state my mother was in, but managed to keep my mouth shut.  That's twice in less than an hour...I hope nothing else super inappropriate pops into my head, because statistically I'm overdue to say something stupid and impulsive.  I didn't know what was wrong with me, but my mood did not match the situation at all.  Instead of any of those things, I gazed passively at my dad and nodded.  Christina smiled sympathetically at me and I picked a seat as far away from her and my dad as I could and sat down heavily.  Damien and my dad spoke quietly for a minute, then my dad glanced my way and went and sat down next to Christina.

"Do you need anything?" Damien asked me, sitting down next me.  "Something to drink?  To eat?"  I shook my head, then leaned against the wall.  He brushed his fingertips lightly over my knee, then withdrew his hand and settled back in his uncomfortable chair.  "Your dad said that they're working on waking her up and someone will come out to talk to us when she's awake."  I nodded again.

Damien didn't try to touch me or talk to me anymore, and I was glad.  I didn't want to talk, and I definitely didn't want to be touched.  I shut my eyes and considered my feelings.  I was pretty sure that I should be scared, anxious, sad, or some manner of "upset" at the very least.  I was none of those things.  I was actually more concerned about not feeling those things than I was for my mom's wellbeing.   My mom had never been a big part of my life (at least as far as actual parenting was concerned) and I'd felt ambivalent about her since before I even knew the word "ambivalent."  I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, of course, so I didn't understand why I didn't feel anything.

I sat in my chair with my head against the wall and my eyes closed. It's weird what kind of memories go through your head when someone might be dying.  I watched them play out across the back of my eyelids like I was having a dissociative episode.

I was...6?  I rode the bus home from school.  I'd get off on the random corner that had been my assigned bus stop with 4 other kids.  Their moms and dads always met them there.  Mine didn't.  The moms usually gave me a worried look.  The dads ushered their precious offspring away from me quickly, as though deadbeat parenting was contagious.  I'd always walked home.  It was three and a half blocks.  I had to cross the busy street once.  I always counted my steps, and it took me 312 tiny 6 year old steps to get there.  Always 312.  I made sure of it.

That day, when I'd gotten home, the door was locked.  I'd panicked for a second until I remembered the key.  The key on the chain around my neck, tucked safely under my shirt.  I'd pulled it out and fit it into the lock.  It had been hard to turn.  I remember that.  I had been near tears from frustration by the time it turned, sliding the lock back easily, like it had been taunting me.

"Mom?" I'd called when I got myself in.  "Mommy?"  No answer.  I'd crept towards her bedroom.  The door had been open a crack, and I'd pushed it open further.  Of course it had creaked as it opened.

"What?" she'd snapped.  It was so dark in her room, I had barely been able to make out her outline, lying beneath the blankets on her bed.

"I'm home," I had said, softly.  

"Yes, I'm aware.  You make a lot of noise," she'd replied.

"Sorry," I had apologized, feeling the tears welling up again.  I had waited by the door, hoping she'd get up.

"What do you want?" she'd asked eventually.  

I had taken a deep, shaky breath.  "I- I'm hungry," I'd told her, regretting the words the second they'd come out of my mouth.

She'd sighed heavily, and I'd sniffled, trying desperately not to cry.  "You're a big girl, make yourself a snack."

"Is daddy coming home tonight?" I'd asked, ignoring her clear dismissal.

"No."  With that, she'd rolled over, presenting her back to me.

As I'd turned, she'd suddenly said, "Kinsley, sweetheart?"

"Yes?" I'd answered, turning quickly back around, hopeful.

"Be a good girl and get mommy her pills.  The little round ones that start with an X."

I had deflated immediately.  "Okay," I'd said dutifully.  

When I'd returned with the pill bottle, she'd rolled over and instantly sighed.  "And how am I supposed to swallow them?" she'd asked coldly.

"Uh...I'll go get you some water," I'd offered.

"No, I'll just take them.  It's fine.  Go."

I'd walked back into the kitchen, silent tears rolling down my face.  I hadn't been sure why I was crying, but I understood now.  I'd found an orange in the fridge and had peeled it carefully.  A couple hours later, my 14 year old brother Kaleb had come home, dropped off by a friend after a sports practice.  "Hey Kinsy-bug," he'd greeted me cheerfully, using the nickname I hadn't let anyone else call me.  "Where's mom?"

"Sleeping," I'd told him.

"Is dad coming home tonight?"  I'd shaken my head silently.  He'd put his bag in his room, made me some mac and cheese, kissed me on the forehead, and left.  Off to go hang out with some friends, I'm sure.  I'm still not sure if he came back at night or not.

Then there was the time when I was 8 and social services knocked on our door because I'd come to school without a lunch or lunch money and wearing the same clothes for over a week.  Kaleb had answered the door and let them in, because dad hadn't been home and mom had been in bed.  Mom came out while the social worker was talking to us, and she'd put on quite a show of being a loving parent.

After the social worker left, she had screamed at us for opening the door and talking to the social worker.  Then she'd promptly taught me how to do laundry.  I've been doing my own laundry ever since.

Not even two years after that, on his 18th birthday, Kaleb had stolen a car.  A teacher's car, right out of the parking lot in the middle of the school day.  He'd been caught later that day after he hit a little kid on a bike, seriously injuring the little boy.  He'd been charged with the theft and vehicular assault.  He'd ended up in prison for 6 years, and I'd never heard from him again after that.

Despite it all, I'd made it.  I'd turned out pretty well actually, I think.  I had always been smart.  I'd always done well in school.  My teachers had always liked me, though looking back, I wonder if it was because they felt sorry for me.  I had never been allowed to just be smart, though.  There was always an "even though" attached.  "Kinsley won the spelling bee, even though her brother just got arrested."  "Kinsley read the most books over the summer, even though her parents wouldn't ever take her to the library."  "Kinsley got a scholarship to DU, even though she was one absence away from having to go to truancy court."  "Kinsley is Salutatorian, even though she showed up to her physics final drunk."

I opened my eyes, not wanting to sit still anymore.  I guessed it had been over an hour, but when I looked at the clock, I saw it had barely been 20 minutes.  I sighed and stood.  Damien looked up at me.  "I need to move," I said softly.  "I'm going to go walk in the hall a little."

"Do you want company?" he asked.  I shook my head, hoping he'd understand.  I felt bad that he was here when I didn't really want anything to do with anyone, but I also didn't want him to leave.  He gave me a reassuring smile and said, "I'm going to go grab something to eat then, okay?  I'm getting hungry."

"Sure," I said, returning his smile with a small one of my own.  He stood and walked with me towards the hallway.  Before he walked to the right, away from where I was going, I grabbed his hand.  He looked back at me, surprised, and I stood on my toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek.  "Thank you," I said softly.

He squeezed my hand, then brushed a wayward piece of hair off my forehead.  His hand rested briefly on the side of my face, then he was gone.  I paced up and down the hallway.  As I walked, I counted my steps.  I'd count up to 312, then start over. I felt restless and I was starting to get nervous.  I was almost relieved that I was feeling an emotion typical of this situation.

When Damien returned, my eyes met his but I continued to pace, so he went back into the waiting area.  I wandered up and down the hallway, trailing my hand along the wall, trying not to think about how many germs I was picking up by doing so. When I was done pacing, I went back and sat down next to Damien again.  There was a sandwich, a bag of chips, a banana, and a bottle of water on my seat.  "For when you get hungry," he said.

"Thank you," I said.  I picked them up and set them down on the small table wedged into the corner.  "Damien..." I started.  He looked up.  "Um, if you have things to do you don't have to stay here," I said.  "I don't know how long we'll be here, and..."  I trailed off.  I wanted him here, but I didn't know how to tell him without making him feel obligated.  Because I didn't want him here if he was only here because he felt obligated.

"I'm okay," he said.  "I think I'll stay."  I tried not to let the relief show on my face.

"Thank you," I said softly.  I was starting to feel like a broken record.  At least I was a broken record with manners.  I reached for the sandwich and unwrapped it.  Ham, cheese, and tomato.  Perfect.  I took a bite and chewed.  It was kind of dry, and a little tasteless.  I opened the water and took a drink.  I managed half the sandwich, then wrapped the rest up and set it back down on the table.  I eyed the banana but I was starting to feel a little bit nauseated so I left it.

I shivered a little.  Why was the hospital so fucking cold?  I had just put on a long sleeved shirt, because it was a perfectly reasonable temperature outside.  Without a word, Damien pulled off his sweatshirt and handed it to me.  I started to protest but realized that that would just leave me cold, so I took it gratefully and pulled it over my head.  When I settled back into my seat, I was warmer, but I felt like I was going to randomly just explode with something stupid and impulsive.  I was restless, but more in my head than physically.  I readjusted and rested my forearm against Damien's.  He shifted so our arms ran parallel and were pressed together along the length of the armrest.  I sighed and shut my eyes, feeling grounded by the contact.  It was just enough.

We sat silently for what felt like another hour, but was really just 15 minutes.  I opened my eyes and looked at Damien.  "Will you walk with me?" I asked.

"Of course," he said.  He stood and offered me a hand.  I took it and stood, and we headed out to the hallway.  My dad was on his phone, probably doing work.  Christina was leisurely reading a book.  Seriously?  You go to the hospital and think, "Oh, hold on, let me just grab my book"?  No.  People don't fucking do that.  Then again, I practically forced Damien to take a shower, so who am I to judge?

"I don't think I can sit in there anymore," I said, once we were moving down the hallway.  I let my fingers dangle from his, so our hands were attached but we weren't quite holding hands.  "He's pissing me off, pretending to be concerned.  And I don't know why he dragged his tramp girlfriend along with him.  Or fiancée, or whatever the fuck she is."  I was moving out of "numb" and into "angry", though I wasn't sure exactly what my anger was directed at.

"We don't have to sit in there," Damien replied calmly.

"You must think I'm crazy," I said suddenly, stopping and looking at him.  He cocked his head curiously and gave me a questioning look.  "You're so involved with your family, and I can't even stand to be around mine."  I bit my lip and said, "I'm not even worried about my mom, just mad at everyone.  I don't know why we're here."

He shrugged.  "I stopped trying to understand the way you process your feelings a long time ago.  I won't pretend that I understand your relationship with your family either, but if you're okay with it, then that's enough for me."  Coming from someone else, that might have sounded condescending.  But right now, from Damien, it was honest and validating and exactly what I needed from him.  I sagged against him and he wrapped his arms around me, the only thing keeping me from slumping onto the floor.

"Damien?  I want to go home," I said, after several seconds of standing in the hallway in his arms.

"Okay," he said.  He didn't question me.  He didn't argue.  He just agreed.  He couldn't possibly be more perfect than he was in this moment.  We turned and walked back towards the waiting area so I could grab my purse.  I was sliding the straps onto my shoulder when a doctor walked into the waiting area.  I stood and watched as my dad and Christina both jumped up. Damien looked at me, waiting to see what I wanted to do.  After hesitating, I walked over towards the doctor to find out what was happening.

Lauren: The Institution of Marriage

Several people have asked if we'll ever hear from Brody and Liv.  They'll definitely still be involved, since they're friends with Lauren and Kinsley and company.  I can probably arrange a post from one of their perspectives from time to time as well!
________________________________

"So, are you next?" Liv's mom asks me, smiling.

I have to force a smile onto my face.  She is, seriously, the fifth fucking person to ask me that (or some variation of it) tonight.  "Who knows?" I reply.  "Probably not though.  They're probably next."  I motion to Kinsley and Damien, who are slow dancing at the far corner of the dance floor.  Even from here I can see Kinsley's smile as Damien says something in her ear.  I look away.  I'm still not quite buying what he's selling after the whole breakup debacle.

When Liv's mom turns to talk to someone else, I excuse myself and wander out of the room.  I make my way down the steep stairs, which are now dimly lit.  I weave through the hallways and offer a small smile to the bored-looking hostess in the foyer before I step outside.

It's chilly out, and I'm not prepared for the blast of cold air that hits me.  I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I'd thought to grab my jacket before coming out.  It's not unbearable, but it's not comfortable either.  I make it about two minutes before I turn to go back inside, choosing warmth over precious solitude.

I don't even make it one step before the door opens and Alex comes out.  "Everything okay?" he asks softly, concern etched into his furrowed brow.  His jacket is in his hand and he doesn't even think twice before draping it around my shoulders.  I'm grateful for the warmth.

"Yes," I said, smiling as if to prove it.  "I just need a little air, it's too warm in there."  He scans my face critically and I know he doesn't believe me.  But he lets it go for now.

"And it's too cold out here," he points out, cracking a smile.  He reaches for my hand and I let him pull me against him.  I burrow into his chest and take a deep breath, finally feeling warm when he wraps his arms around me.  "Are you ready to go in?" he asks.

I shake my head and make him stand outside with me for a couple more minutes.  When I finally get my shit together and shake off the annoyance of being constantly asked if I'm "next", I pull away from him.  I smile genuinely at him and say, "Okay, I'm done standing in the cold."

"Good," Alex replies.  "My fingers are damn near numb."  Then he touches them lightly to the back of my neck, which makes me gasp.

"Jesus, knock it off," I yelp at him.  But I'm laughing, and he catches me around the waist and kisses my forehead.  "Kiss me right," I demand, tipping my head up towards him.  He smirks at me and presses his lips to mine.  Then he sucks lightly on my bottom lip, which makes me shiver.

Misinterpreting that, he pulls away and says, "Let's get you inside before you freeze."

I follow Alex back inside.  When we get up to the banquet room, I immediately see Liv and Brody dancing in the far corner of the dance floor.  She's looking up at him like she can't see anyone else in the room and saying something, and you can tell how much he adores her as he listens, then responds.  They both laugh, and then she shifts closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder.  I want that, but do I really need to jump through all these stupid wedding hoops to get it?

"Laur?"  Alex is watching me curiously.  I had stopped to stare at Liv and Brody.

"What?" I ask innocently.  I start walking again, following him over a table where Lynn and Jen are sitting and chatting.  I take a breath and clear my head so I can enjoy the rest of the evening.



"What's on your mind?" Alex asks later once we're back in our room.  I slide off my shoes and sigh in relief, pointing and flexing my toes.

I almost say 'nothing,' but I know that won't fly.  Instead, I sit down on the bed and look up at Alex.  "What do you think about marriage?" I ask tentatively.

"Oh no," he replies, shaking his head.  "I'm not playing this game."

I narrow my eyes at him in irritation.  "What game?"

"The one where something is bothering you, so you ask me what I think about it, I inevitably answer incorrectly, and you get mad at me for something completely hypothetical without even telling me what you're thinking about."

I open my mouth to argue, then snap it shut.  He's right.  I do that to him all the time.  I grimace, sigh, and say, "I don't want this."  I motion around the room as if that makes my statement make any more sense.  Too late, I realize that "this" could mean any number of things.

Luckily, Alex understands.  "You don't want a wedding, or you don't want a marriage?" he asks, sitting down in the chair in the corner and looking at me thoughtfully.

"Either.  Both.  Neither.  Whatever."  I'm flustered enough that I've forgotten how the English language works.  I get even more flustered (and irritated) when I see the corners of Alex's mouth twitching.  He's fighting the smile but he's losing.  "What?" I snap.  "Never mind.  If you find this so funny, I'd rather just skip right to being mad at you and not talk about it anymore."

"I'm not laughing at you," he protests.  I frown, and he stands and comes over to the bed.  He reaches for my hand as he sits next to me and I let him lace his fingers through mine.  "Laur, if I had things my way, I would like to get married.  But I knew going into this that there was a very good chance if it worked that marriage wasn't a thing that would ever happen for me."

"You...what?" I ask.

He smiles, and this time it doesn't irritate me.  "Can you estimate how many times you've railed against the 'fucking institution of marriage'?"

I snicker, then it turns into full-blown laughing, and soon we're both laughing.  Once I get a hold of myself, I shake my head.  "I plead the fifth."

"Of course you do," he says.  Then he looks at me, and he looks serious again.  "But seriously, being with you is more important to me than being married.  Because I'd wager if I was married, there's a solid 90% chance it would not be to you.  And yes, I'm also well aware of and okay with the fact that you don't want kids."

I huff out a sharp breath and narrow my eyes at him again.  "Have you ever considered that the amount of things you know about me is more than slightly creepy?"

"I don't think it's creepy to know that your girlfriend probably doesn't want to get married and definitely doesn't want kids.  Especially when you've been friends with said girlfriend for 9 years."

"No wonder you're so good at trivia," I mutter.  I enjoy doing trivia with Alex about as much as he enjoys doing math with me.  Needless to say, we do neither trivia or math together.

Alex smirks and says, "Look what we can accomplish when you just tell me what's on your mind instead of setting me up to fail!"

"Shut up, you're annoying," I reply.  I stand up and stretch, then reach for the zipper at the back of my dress.  I fumble for the pull but can't quite get it between my fingers.  Alex stands and tugs the zipper slowly down, dragging one of his fingers down the freshly exposed skin as he does.  I shiver as he slides the sleeve down my shoulder, quickly dropping his mouth down onto the skin he's revealing.  I sigh in pleasure and tip my head towards the opposite shoulder, giving him more room to work.

"I love this dress on you," he says huskily.  "But now I want it off of you."  I reach up to tug down the other sleeve, but he grabs my hand and puts it back down at my side.  Then he slides his fingertips up my arm, leaving a trail of a goosebumps it its wake, and starts working the sleeve slowly off my shoulder.  I wait for his mouth to follow and I'm not disappointed.  He licks, sucks, and bites unpredictably, and I want to lean back against him.  I know if I do that he won't be able to reach my shoulder, so I stay perfectly still.

By the time he has the top of the dress around my waist, I'm done being patient and still.  I bend and tug the dress down, then turn and push him back on the bed.  I climb onto the bed, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him.  My hair falls in a curtain around my face and Alex pushes his hands into it, pulling some of it back from my face and keeping it from getting trapped between our lips.

He pushes the hair from the left side of my face up and over my shoulder to the other side, trapping it with his other hand.  His free hand slides down my back, over my hip, and down the back of my leg.  When his hand gets just above my knee, he tugs, pulling my leg forward.  Then he slides his hand back up my leg and snakes it over my hip so it's under me.  He pulls my underwear aside and strokes me for several seconds before pushing a finger inside me.

I moan against his lips then pull my face away from his, dropping my forehead onto his shoulder.  "Why do you still have clothes on?" I manage to ask, reaching under my body with one hand to start unbuttoning his shirt.

"Why are you so good at undoing buttons with one hand?" he replies, cocking an eyebrow at me.

I pause and look at him.  "Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

"Probably not.  But I'm guessing 'practice' is a safe guess."

I raise my eyebrows and smirk before going back to undoing his buttons.  He's got one hand on my leg and one running up and down my back as he kisses me again.  When I finish his shirt, I manage his belt and the button on his pants one handed but can't quite get the zipper.  "You were on a roll," Alex says, worming a hand between us to help.  His forearm bumps my hip hard enough to knock me off balance, and we both start laughing as I tip onto the bed next to him.

"It's about time you got out of my way," Alex teases me, standing to pull his pants and shirt off.  He climbs back onto the bed and grabs my ankles, tugging me back towards him.  Alex lifts one of my legs until my calf is close enough for him to reach and he dips his head, kissing along my leg until he finds the random spot that makes me crazy.  He had discovered it by accident one night a couple weeks, and I groan as he sucks and gently bites it.  Then he moves his mouth back towards my ankle and lightly drags the tip of his tongue across a ticklish spot he knows is there.

I yelp and yank my leg back, and Alex laughs.  "Don't be a dick," I say, but I'm laughing now as well.  He reaches for me but I roll away, sit up, and pounce on him, knocking him sideways onto the bed and pinning his hands to the mattress.

"Careful," he warns me, smirking.

"Or what?" I retort.  I shift and use my knee to roll him onto his back, quickly shifting my grip on his hands.  I position myself carefully since my hands are occupied and unavailable, and slide onto him just a tiny bit.

Alex groans and tries to thrust his hips up towards mine but I raise myself up so he doesn't get anywhere.  "Oh, you are evil," he says in response.

"Careful," I reply, my smirk mirroring the one he had when he said the same thing less than a minute ago.  Alex can easily overpower me if he wants to, but he's gladly letting me have my fun teasing him.  I torture him just a little longer before I let go of his hands and finally sink all the way down onto him. I lean back and plant my hands on his thighs behind me, giving his wandering hands full access to my body.

Neither of us is in it for the long haul after our extended, teasing foreplay, and I'm soon cuddling up to him, satisfied and tired, because it's now really late.  Taking advantage of my sleepiness, Alex asks, "So have you been miserable all day about this wedding thing?"

"Not at all," I assure him.  "I wasn't miserable at all.  I actually had a lot of fun.  It's just that everyone kept asking me if I was next and it got me thinking about marriage and weddings, and then I started worrying that you would want to get married, and my brain just spiraled out of control from there."

"Good," he replies.  "I mean, good that it didn't ruin your night."

"It could have if you hadn't called me out on my bullshit," I say, laughing.

Alex chuckles.  "That's what I'm here for."

"I thought you were here for the sex?" I ask, feigning confusion.

"Well, that too.  Sex and calling you out.  Definitely not for marriage, though.  In case you were wondering."

I laugh and shake my head.  "You are so weird."

"Seriously?" he asks.  "I'm weird?  Come on.  You can't even say that ironically."

"I'm not weird!" I protest.

"Okay, switch sides of the bed with me tonight."

"What?  No!" I exclaim, horrified by the idea.

"See?" he says triumphantly.  "That's weird."

"Oh no it's not!  People have sides.  That's normal.  That's a thing.  It's way more weird that you can just sleep on whatever side you want."

"I don't believe you," he replies.  "I'm going to take a poll tomorrow."

"Fine," I respond, laughing again.  "Take your poll.  I'm confident that we'll find out the truth--that you're the weird one."

"What happens if I'm right?" he asks, squeezing my ass.

"You'll have the honor of being right and being the normal one," I reply, swatting his hand away from my ass and rolling my eyes.  "About this, at least.  But you're not right, so don't get too attached to the idea."

Alex chuckles and kisses my forehead.  "I love you, Lauren."

"Even if I won't switch sides of the bed?"

"Especially because you won't switch sides of the bed."

"Good.  I love you as long as you don't make me switch sides of the bed."

Alex starts to reply but is interrupted by a yawn.  "You're keeping me awake too long with your trash talking."

"That's not trash talking, it's witty banter," I argue.

"See?  There you go again.  And I think we need to define 'witty', because you're clearly confused.  But not tonight, because we should probably sleep soon."

"As much as I want to argue with you, I actually agree with that."

"Oh?" Alex asks.  "You agree that you're clearly confused?"

"No!" I poke him in the ribs so he squirms.  "That we should sleep soon."  I yawn to prove my point and we quickly quiet down, my witty banter (seriously) quickly forgotten as Alex strokes the back of my neck with his thumb.  Alex knows exactly how to push my buttons, and also exactly how to put me to sleep.  I'm out within minutes, lulled to sleep by his touch.

Author's note: Back on Friday, and questions answered!

Hey guys!  I'm so so so glad that you all loved the conclusion to Liv and Brody's story so much.  Thank you for all your sweet comments, they mean so much to me.  I know I keep saying it, but you all make it so easy to write great stuff for you.  I could sit here and pretend that I write this blog completely selflessly so I can entertain the internet, but let's be real: I write it to entertain the internet and also to hear good things about my writing.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't love every single comment.  So thank you for taking the time to read and write a quick note with your thoughts.

Anyway, I've been a writing machine the past couple weeks (and a procrastination machine, ha) and I have enough posts stashed away that I feel comfortable returning on Friday!  So on Friday, expect a Lauren post, then Monday will be a Kinsley post.  I'm going to give it a shot alternating their posts with Lauren on Mondays and Kinsley on Fridays, but if you guys are finding it hard to follow the two separate stories at once like that, let me know because I'm totally open to changing how I do it.

Also, there were a few questions posted in the comments of the last couple posts, and I wanted to take a second to answer them.

"For the other stories, are we going back in time or will everything continue in the future?"

The Lauren and Kinsley posts will largely be present-based.  One of the Kinsley posts has a chunk that is basically memories from when she was younger, but the rest of the post is present.  I'll do backstory posts if I need to explain anything that way.  

And I'm still curious what happened to brodys dad. There wasn't really an aftermath of his death for Brody (only selling the company and cleaning the house)."

I don't have a good answer for you!  It's a mystery ;)  One of the reasons Brody's dad got into all the crap he did was because he had some nasty gambling debts.  Therefore, the assumption is he pissed off the wrong people.  

Annnnd I'm missing one that I know I saw.  I can't find it, so maybe I'm imagining it... I will fully admit that in getting to the wedding, there may very well be a few loose ends that didn't get satisfactorily tied up.  If you have a burning question still, please feel free to ask.  Otherwise, see you all again on Friday!

A New Adventure

You guys, this is it!  The end of Brody and Liv's story.  This was one of my favorite posts to write, and it was both really easy (because I knew exactly what I wanted to happen) and really hard (because I know little about the subject matter as I have no direct experience with it, and I had to do a lot of research).  Luckily, my amazing friends and readers C and S helped me out, answering all my questions and beta-reading the post to make sure it's accurate and realistic.  Thank you both!

I hope you all love this post as much as I do.  You've been the best readers, and you've pushed me to up my writing game.  I'm so grateful for every single one of you.  Thank you all so much!

The nuts and bolts:  We're jumping three years into the future, and the post flip flops back and forth between Liv and Brody's perspectives.  It's also an incredibly long post, but there was no way around that.  Enjoy :)

THREE YEARS LATER

Liv

When I went into labor, I was 36 weeks, 6 days pregnant, and Brody was in Chicago negotiating a contract with a client.  He hadn't wanted to go, but there weren't many options and it was just for a couple days.  I had insisted he go, assuming we'd be fine until he got back.  He only agreed to go after we came up with two different plans of what we'd do if I did happen to go into labor.  At the time, I thought he was being an overprotective, paranoid first time parent, but in the end I was glad he'd insisted.

I talked to him the night before I went into labor.  I assured him I was feeling great--which I was, aside from feeling gigantic and being tired from working all day and not sleeping well, which was now a regular occurrence.  He told me he was going to try to get back tomorrow afternoon.  We talked for a few more minutes, then I got in bed and got as comfortable as I could.  I actually fell asleep rather quickly, which was practically unheard of for the last couple weeks.  I was hopeful I'd sleep decently, because I didn't have to get up for work in the morning, since it was a no-school day.

But I still woke up around 4am.  I assumed I had to pee, like the other two times I'd woken up.  Instead, I realized I'd woken up due to a strong, crampy pain.  Eddie--who I let sleep in the bed with me when Brody was gone, as long as he promised not to tell Brody--was nudging me in the back and whining quietly.  He'd been following me around like a shadow since I got pregnant, but he'd been especially clingy the last few days while Brody was gone. I shifted, trying to get more comfortable and alleviate the pain.  After several more seconds, the pain went away, and I discovered I did have to pee.

I hauled myself out of bed and to the bathroom, then made my way back to bed.  I tried to get comfortable but I couldn't, so I got up and wandered downstairs.  I let Ed out, got some water (what I really wanted was a glass of orange juice, but even just thinking about orange juice gave me heartburn) and some cereal, let Ed back in, and parked myself on the couch.  Eddie jumped up onto the couch next to me and rested his head on my feet that were stretched out in front of me.

I had just finished my breakfast when the cramp-like pain returned.  I winced and waited for it to go away.  Weird, random things hurt all the time by this point in my pregnancy, so I thought very little of it.  Eddie, on the other hand, lifted his head from my foot and whined.  "Shhh," I shushed him.  He cocked his head at me, gave me as dirty of a look as a dog can give, then set his head back down on my foot.  I flipped through the TV channels and tried to get comfortable while Eddie slowly snuck closer and closer to me.  Within about 20 minutes, he had squished himself between me and the back of the couch and had his head resting against my belly.

By 5am, when the pain returned for the fifth time, I knew I might very well be having contractions.  Per "Plan A," I called Lauren, who didn't seem at all irritated at being woken up (a small miracle in itself).  I had no idea how long it might be until I was ready to have a baby, but neither Brody or I wanted me stuck out here or having to drive myself into town.  After I hung up with Lauren, I called Brody.

He sounded a little less calm than Lauren had.  "Are you having the baby?" he said frantically when he picked up the phone.

"I have no idea," I replied calmly.  "I've had a few cramp-like pains that might be some early contractions.  I'm not really sure though.  I just wanted to let you know."

"Did you call Lauren?"

"I did."  His worry was starting to make me worried.  "She's on her way."

"I'm getting on the next flight I can," he assured me.  I could hear his carry-on zip, then the water running in the background.

"It's so early, there's a very good chance I'm not having a baby yet," I pointed out.

He grunted.  "I don't care.  I shouldn't be here anyway with you that pregnant.  I'm coming home either way."

I didn't argue with him, because I had a very strong suspicion that I was having a baby soon.

Brody

"Liv?" She had stopped talking abruptly, which made me nervous.

"I'm here," she said, but her voice sounded funny.

"Are you okay if I let you go so I can get out of here?  I'll call you and let you know what the plan is when I get to the airport."

"Yes," she said shortly.  I briefly wondered if she was upset, then realized she was probably in pain.

We hung up, and I swore softly under my breath as I quickly gathered all my stuff.  I was halfway out the door before I checked for my phone and realized I had tossed it on the bed.  I swore, then left my bag in the hall to run back into the room and grab it.  I waited for the elevator for about 7 seconds before I decided it was taking too damn long and took off down the stairs.  The whole way down, I cursed myself for letting Liv talk me into taking this trip.

I arrived at the front desk, slightly breathless after the 12 flights of stairs, and said, "I need to check out."

"Alright sir, how was your stay?" asked the pleasant young woman behind the desk.

"Fine, room 1207," I said shortly.  She blinked in surprise, but immediately began tapping keys on her keyboard.  "I'm really sorry," I apologized sincerely, feeling bad for snapping at her.  "I just got a call from my wife that she thinks she's in labor with our first baby, and she's in Denver.  So I'm just in a bit of a hurry.  I didn't mean to be rude."

She smiled.  "Congratulations! You're all set, I hope you make it home quick."

"Thank you," I called over my shoulder, already headed for the door.  I managed to get a cab right away and on the way I searched flights on my phone.  The earliest flight I could get was 3pm, which was not going to work.  I booked it anyway, figuring it was better than nothing.

When I got to the airport, I went up to the ticketing counter.  "I need to get to Denver as soon as possible," I said.  "I have a 3pm flight booked, but are there any other options? Like earlier standby options, or a flight to somewhere else and then a connection to Denver?"

"Let me see, hold on just a second, sir," the bored-looking woman said.  I fidgeted nervously, praying there would be something.  "Okay," she said finally.  "You have a couple options.  I have a direct flight to Denver that leaves at 8:15.  It's full, but if you want to try standby in case someone doesn't show up, we can do that.  Otherwise, I have a 9:30 flight to St Louis, then a flight from St Louis to Denver that will get you there around 1:30, Denver time."  I considered this.  I wanted to be there now but 1:30 was better than 4:30.

"I'll try for the standby, but I also want to get a ticket for the St Louis flight as well, just in case," I decided.

She gave me a puzzled look.  "Sir, I won't be able to refund whichever ticket you don't use."

"I understand," I replied.  "I want to buy it anyway."  She looked completely perplexed, and wasn't doing anything.  "My wife is having a baby.  Just take my money," I said, exasperated.

"Oh!" she said.  "Well, that makes sense!  Is it your first?"

"Yes.  Can I please just buy the ticket?"

"Of course," she said, flustered.  She typed away and then told me the total.  I finally walked away with a ticket and made it through security just in time to get to the gate of my potential standby flight as they started boarding.

I checked in with the gate agent and called Liv.  Lauren answered.  "Is she okay?" I asked, worried.

"She's fine, she's trying to get some sleep," Lauren replied calmly.  "We're still at home.  Her contractions aren't even regular yet, they've all been somewhere between 12 and 16 minutes apart.  I've got her bag packed. You need to get it together by the time you get here, because you know she's going to be an anxious mess and you also being an anxious mess isn't going to help anything."

"I'll be fine once I get there," I replied evenly.  "I'm just worried about being halfway across the country when my wife needs me."

"I know," Lauren said, her tone kinder.  "What's the plan?"  I explained the flight situation and I told her I'd let them know if I managed to get on this direct flight, but it wasn't looking very likely.  We hung up and I called my mom to let her know that Liv was probably in labor but it was really early, so we'd keep her posted.

I didn't get on the direct flight, so I moved to the gate for the St Louis flight and waited some more.

Liv

My attempt to nap was useless as my anxiety grew, and I couldn't even find a comfortable position to rest in between contractions.  Plus, every time I had a contraction, Eddie felt the need to whine and slobber all over me.  They were still fairly weak and irregular, and I was a little worried that Brody was freaking out for no reason.  But when my water broke a little after 11, I was glad he was rushing to get back, because I knew that this by this time tomorrow our daughter would be here, one way or another.

Lauren carried my bag out the door, and Eddie tried to sneak out with us.  "No, Ed," I said.  "It's okay.  Alex is going to come get you."  He barked sharply and sat down in front of me, between me and the door.  "I wish I could take you with me too, but you're going to go stay with Uncle Alex and have a vacation!"  I gripped the door frame as I had another contraction and Eddie whined and licked my hand.  I ended up having to put him in his crate so we could get out of the house, and I felt awful listening to him bark and whine as we left.  He normally went happily and quietly into his crate, but he could clearly sense that something was up.

I called my parents as Lauren drove me to the hospital.  I had decided to wait to call them until I was sure I was in labor, because I didn't want them flying out only to have it be a false alarm.  My mom was so surprised she thought I was kidding, then she dropped the phone in her excitement when I assured her I wouldn't joke about being labor.  I kind of hoped they wouldn't make it here before the baby was born because I knew she'd just make me more anxious.

I called Brody but it went straight to voicemail.  He would have just gotten on the plane from St Louis to Denver.  I was starting to get nervous that he wouldn't make it here in time.  Reading my mind, Lauren said, "Relax.  He'll make it.  Your contractions are barely even regular yet."  I stared out the window and sucked in a sharp breath when another contraction hit.  They were definitely getting stronger.

"Is Alex going to pick Brody up?" I asked, even though I had heard Lauren call Alex with Brody's flight info.

"Yes, he's going to head there after he gets Eddie settled," Lauren responded patiently.  Alex was our designated dog sitter, and had agreed to watch him at his house for as long as we needed.

"Thank you for doing this," I said, suddenly overwhelmed with gratefulness for Lauren's patient managing of the day.

"I wouldn't dream of letting you do this alone, Liv," she said.  By this point she was pulling into the patient drop off area of the hospital.

"Go ahead and park, we can walk from the car," I said.  "I want to."  Without a word, she found a parking spot and we made our way slowly from the car to the hospital.  It took awhile to get checked in and settled in a room, and by then my contractions were getting closer together and stronger.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here yet," came a voice.  Dr. Jenkins, my favorite OB here, was coming into the room.  "Is Brody on his way?"

"I wasn't expecting to be here yet," I agreed.  "And Brody is--" I stopped suddenly, squeezing my eyes shut as I had another contraction.  Inexplicably, I suddenly missed Eddie and wanted him here, slobbering on me and gently nudging my belly with his curious nose.

"Brody's on a plane somewhere between St Louis and Denver," Lauren finished for me.  She introduced herself to Dr. Jenkins as she got ready to examine me.

Dr. Jenkins informed me I was dilated about 4 centimeters and assured (depending on how you look at it, at least) me that I likely had several hours to go and Brody should make it with plenty of time.  It did little to assuage my anxiety, and I spent the next hour compulsively checking my phone while Lauren tried to distract me.

"You should try to get some rest if you can," the nurse advised me, coming in to check on me.  I glared at her and Lauren laughed.

"Don't be a dick, Liv," she said.  I turned my glare on Lauren and she smiled.  "Brody will be landing any minute," she soothed me.  "The nurse is right."  But I knew I wouldn't be able to do any resting until Brody got here.

Brody

The two flights were the longest hour and two hours of my life.  Not even being able to have access to my phone in case something changed was the worst.  Last time I'd get on a flight without at least WiFi so I could email.

The older woman next to me on the flight from St Louis to Denver was probably getting really irritated with my fidgeting and sighing.  "Are you okay, dear?" she asked, barely masking her irritation with faux-concern.

I smiled sheepishly.  "I'm sorry," I replied.  "I'm on my way home from a business trip, and my wife is currently in labor, so I'm a little worried."

Her face lit up and she returned my smile.  "No wonder you're wiggling all over the place.  I would be too, if I were you.  Is it your first?"

"It is," I said.  "We're having a girl."

"Congratulations.  How long have you been married?"

"A little over three years," I replied.

She smiled again.  "Do you have a name picked out?"

I frowned.  "Yes and no.  We have a first name picked out: Celia.  We haven't been able to decide on a middle name, though.  Nothing we like sounds good with Celia or our last name, and we don't like anything that sounds good.  She's only about 37 weeks pregnant, so we thought we had a little longer to decide."

"You'll figure it out when you see her," she assured me.  "My husband and I had no idea what we were going to name our first son.  We couldn't agree on anything!  But when we saw him, we knew.  We ended up picking a name that wasn't either of the ones we were arguing over."

I chuckled.  "I hope so.  I really hope I'm able to be there for the birth."

"First babies usually take their good old time," she replied.  "Not always, of course, but I'd be surprised if you didn't make it."

We talked for a few more minutes, and I felt considerably calmer.  I thanked her for her reassurance and put my headphones in and closed my eyes.  I didn't think I'd be able to sleep at all, but I woke up to the woman next to me gently shaking my shoulder.  "We're landing," she said, when I had pulled out my headphones.  I thanked her and adjusted my seat back to be upright.

As we made our way off the plane, she touched my back gently and said, "Congratulations again, and good luck to your wife.  I hope everything goes well!"

"Thank you," I said, smiling at her before hurrying to find Alex while turning my phone on.

I spotted him right away as I came out of the secure area.  He led me to his car while I called Liv.  Lauren answered.  "Hi, hold on a second," she said.

"Did I miss it?"

"No, you didn't miss anything," she assured me.  "We're at the hospital and she's definitely in labor, but she's also definitely still very much pregnant.  Here."

"Brody?" Liv's voice came over the line.

"Hi, baby," I replied.  "I'm with Alex and we're on our way.  How are you doing?"

"Hanging in there," she replied.  "I'm glad you're almost here, though."

"Me too," I said.  "You'd better keep that baby in until I get there!"

She laughed weakly.  "Unfortunately for me, I think this baby is going to be staying put for quite awhile still."  Then she gasped and whimpered quietly in pain and I felt a stab of guilt for not being there with her.

"I'll be there soon, Liv," I promised her.

She didn't say anything for several seconds, then she exhaled sharply and said, "Good, because Lauren is driving me nuts."  I heard Lauren protest in the background and Liv laughed, and I was relieved that she was still making jokes.

When we got to the hospital, it seemed to take forever for the elevator to come, then for it to go up to the right floor.  When I finally got to her room, I wasn't prepared for the sight of her laying in the hospital bed, face pale and eyes closed.  Lauren saw me and touched Liv's arm, alerting her to my presence, and her eyes flew open.

Even though she was clearly tired and uncomfortable, she smiled so brightly at me that I was overwhelmed with how much I loved her.  "You're here," she said.  I blinked hard and took a deep breath, suddenly worried how the rest of the day would go if I was already emotional.

"I'm here," I replied, walking over to the bed and sitting carefully on the edge of it.  I reached for her hand, but she sat up to hug me.  She winced as soon as she sat up and quickly laid back against the raised head of the bed, and I leaned down to her instead.  I kissed her and wrapped my arms around her as best as I could while she was reclined.  "I'm so sorry I wasn't here before," I said into her hair.

"Stop," she said.  "You didn't miss much, and you're here now."

When we separated, Lauren softly said, "Liv, I'm going to go home and get a little work done, okay?  But you guys call me when that baby is really on her way, or if you need anything at all."

"Thank you, Laur," Liv said.

I turned to her.  "Yes, thank you.  I really appreciate everything you did for us today."

"You owe me," she said, smirking.  But her smirk didn't cover up the worry in her eyes as she glanced back at Liv.

As Lauren was walking out, Liv suddenly tensed and squeezed her eyes shut, gripping my arm hard.  I rubbed her shoulder and reminded her to breathe, all while wishing I could do this so she didn't have to.  There were few things I hated more than seeing someone I loved in pain.

Liv

By 7pm, my sense of humor was gone.  "Stop touching me," I snapped when Brody tried to soothe me by rubbing my shoulder.  "Don't touch me anymore."

"Okay," he said, his voice soft and calm.  He shifted so he wouldn't even accidentally brush against me, and I immediately felt bad.

"I'm sorry," I groaned between contractions.  "Everything hurts."

"I know," he said.  "You're doing great."  I bit my tongue to keep my temper in check, because I certainly didn't feel like I was doing great.  It had been 8 hours since my water broke, and I wasn't even close to ready to push.  8 hours ago, I was excited to meet our daughter.  Now I just wanted her out.  Or maybe to stay in forever.

"This is the worst idea we've ever had," I hissed as another contraction hit.

The nurse--whose name I couldn't remember because everything sucked right now--came in to check on me as Brody was asking if I wanted an epidural.  I honestly hadn't been sure if I wanted to attempt a med-free birth or not, and I shook my head.  "Not yet," I said stubbornly.  I was terrified that I'd finally decide I wanted an epidural and then it wouldn't work, even though the doctor had assured me that didn't happen often.  I wasn't ready to face that reality if I was one of the lucky ones.

"I need to get up, I can't lay here anymore," I said.  "Can we walk?"  The nurse and Brody helped me get up, and Brody didn't say a word about my sudden willingness to be touched.  He kept his hand on my arm as we slowly made our way down the hallway.  Shortly after we turned around a sudden, strong contraction gripped me and we stopped.  Brody supported my weight easily while I pushed the top of my head against his chest, trying to breathe and stay on my feet.

That ended my desire to walk, and as soon as I could stand upright again, we made our way back to my room.  We had to stop again for another contraction, but finally made it back.  Brody helped me into bed and I collapsed against the pillow.

Brody

By 1am, Liv was practically delirious.  "I think I'm dying," she moaned after a particularly bad contraction.  She looked miserable--pale except for her bright red cheeks, sweaty, and exhausted.  She could hardly keep her eyes open, but there was no chance of her getting any rest.  She suffered fairly quietly through most of her contractions, then lashed out at anyone who so much as looked at her wrong in between.

When the overnight doctor came in, she desperately begged him to tell her she was almost done.  "Please," she whimpered.  "I can't do this anymore."  She had to stop for a contraction, and I thought she was going to break my hand.  When she looked back up at the doctor, her eyes were bloodshot and desperate.  He frowned sympathetically and calmly delivered the news that she was still only 6 cm dilated, and it would likely be an hour or two at the very least before she could start pushing.  When he said that, she began to cry, horrible sobs that shook her entire body and the bed she was in.  I wasn't sure if I should touch her or not, so I played it safe by taking her hand.  She yanked it away, but then leaned her head against me, still sobbing.

I was so agitated that there was nothing I could do to help or make it better.  I just spoke quietly to her while she cried, resisting the overwhelming urge to put my arms around her.  She said something that I couldn't understand, and I had to ask her to repeat it.  "Epidural," she choked out between sobs, a little louder.  I pressed the nurse call button and within seconds one of the nurses that had been in and out appeared.  Liv calmed down enough to ask for an epidural and the nurse went to go do...whatever nurses do when someone needs an epidural.

I hate to admit that I was selfishly relieved Liv had finally asked for the epidural.  I didn't know how much longer I could handle watching her pain.   It took nearly an hour for the anesthesiology team to get there, and Liv spent most of the hour crying off and on and telling me that she hated me for doing this to her.

It seemed like it took forever for them to get the epidural in, but as soon as it started working, I could see the relief on Liv's face.  Her whole body relaxed and she exhaled a deep, shaky breath.  Now she just looked completely exhausted, which was something I could handle at least.

"I'm an idiot," she grumbled after the anesthesiology team had left.  "I should have done that hours ago."  She opened her eyes and looked at me.  "You're amazing," she said softly.

I laughed.  "Not as amazing as you.  You should try to get some rest now."  She nodded and shut her eyes again, then reached for my hand.  I snuck a look at my watch and was surprised to see it was after 3 am.  I got comfortable and shut my eyes too, hoping for even 5 minutes of sleep for either of us.

Liv

The epidural helped my mood and general state of mind considerably, but even after it I still couldn't sleep.  I was too anxious, and on top of that, I was now nauseous and shaking uncontrollably.  I could still feel the pressure of my contractions, which the nurse assured me was a sign of a great epidural, but told me to let someone know if they became painful.

By 5am, I was so exhausted that I didn't know how much longer I could manage any of this.  Brody had gotten a little bit of sleep, and I was glad he had.  I was back to not wanting to be touched, but I didn't even have the energy to say something to Brody when he pushed my sweaty hair off my forehead.  I was so grateful for how amazing he'd been since he'd gotten here.  I could tell he was upset by how much pain I had been in, but he had been remarkably calm the entire time, even when I was snapping at him and being completely unreasonable.

Dr Jenkins was gone, of course, but luckily the overnight OB was my second favorite.  Dr. Henry came in and checked me, then pulled up a chair.  That couldn't be good.

"You're not progressing very well," he informed us, his voice calm and kind as always.  If I wasn't so exhausted, I would have had a smartass comment for him.  "We need to start talking about what we're going to do to get things moving."  He told us our options, then gave us some time to talk about it.  We decided to wait awhile longer and see what happened.

"Stubborn like her mom already," Brody said, after he'd left.

"You're really in for it," I replied, managing a weak smile.

He returned my smile and brushed his lips lightly across my forehead.  "I can't wait."

After two more hours of labor with little progress, the baby's heart rate began to drop and I ended up on my way to the OR for a c-section.  Being separated from Brody so he could get properly prepared to be in the operating room was absolutely the worst thing that I could have imagined at this point, besides something happening to our baby.  It couldn't have been long, but it felt like hours.  I was already exhausted and terrified, and by the time he got into the operating room, I was in tears again.

The doctors and nurses in the room continued with business as usual while Brody took my hand and tried to soothe me.  I was finally able to calm myself down right before they started.

Brody

Being away from Liv while I was prepped to go into the operating room was terrible.  When I finally got to go in and saw her crying again, I was so glad that this would be over soon.

Despite the ordeal of the last 26 hours, seeing my daughter for the first time was something I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.  I can't even describe it.  I immediately loved her, more than anything I've ever loved, and I was so relieved by the loud cry that came from her.  Dr. Henry lifted Celia up enough that Liv could see her over the screen before they whisked her over to the other side of the room, and Liv whispered, "She has hair."

I laughed, emotion swelling in my throat.  "She does," I agreed, blinking hard.

"Is she okay?" Liv asked, suddenly frantic.  "She's okay, right?"

"She's fine, sweetheart," said one of the nurses, an kind-faced older woman.  "She's absolutely beautiful.  You can hold her soon.  You did a wonderful job, and now you can rest."  Liv began to cry then, but this time her tears were happiness, relief, and sheer exhaustion.  I stroked her fingers, and I'm not too proud to admit I had a few tears of my own.

Liv

It took long enough for them to stitch me back up that I actually fell asleep while they did it.  I was so exhausted after 20 hours of labor that Brody had to wake me up in the recovery room so I could hold our baby.

"She looks like you," I said, staring down at Celia's perfect, sleepy little face.  I touched my nose to her soft, dark hair and inhaled, then looked back at Brody, who was also just staring at her.

"She has your nose and mouth," he replied, lightly touching her nose with the tip of his finger.  She wrinkled her face up and we both held our breath, exhaling together when her face relaxed again and she continued to sleep.  "Actually, she looks like Heather," he said suddenly.  I craned my neck to look back at him again, and he was smiling slightly.  He ran his fingers over Celia's hair.  "My mom could show you Heather's baby pictures.  She looks just like her, except with your nose and mouth."

"Heather would make a really nice middle name," I suggested softly.

He was silent for a minute, then he said, "Yeah, it would.  Celia Heather Adler.  What do you think?"

"I love it," I replied.  "Do you?"

"I do," he answered.  Then he shifted so he was laying next to us, and when I looked at him, he kissed me.  "And I love you, Liv."

"I love you too," I responded.  I looked back down at our daughter and smiled as Brody gently played with her tiny fingers.  I had to swallow hard around the lump in my throat when those tiny fingers curled around the tip of Brody's much larger finger.  I was absolutely terrified to be responsible for such a tiny little life, but I knew deep down that we were ready to take on this new adventure.