To me though, it wasn’t the prestige of them playing at these famous courses, but that Jefferson was making the effort to be a father and make up for lost time with Nicholas.
I had to hold back a sob when Clara hugged me afterward and told me I was the reason her family was on the mend. It wasn’t something I felt comfortable even thinking about taking credit for, but I appreciated her sentiment regardless. All in all, it was one of my best days. Not because of the presents, but because everyone I loved was together.
Once we were alone again-and I’d promised Clara she could have my baby shower in a couple of weeks-Nicholas and I returned to our couch, lounging together and watching the tree lights twinkle. He reclined back, his head on the pillows, while I curled up on top of him.
I twined my fingers with his when he sighed into my hair.
“Did you have fun today?” I asked.
“Yes, although I mostly enjoyed watching you smile.”
It was funny because that was how I felt about him most of the time. We were quiet for a few minutes until he cleared his throat. “Virgil gave me some news. I wasn’t sure whether to wait and tell you, but I figured you’d want to know now.”
I glanced up at him, waiting for him to continue. “Hector’s gone.”
My stomach turned, and my mind immediately went to the worst. Someone had killed him and tossed his body in the river. It was like the mobster movies, and I was going to have to hide a file in a cake when I visited Nicholas in the clink.
Did they still allow conjugal visits? I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Gone?”
“He’s back in San Rafael.”
I blew out a breath in relief. He was evil, but I didn’t want anyone’s life on my conscience. And I especially didn’t want Nicholas brought down because he did something to protect me. This was the best news because Hector was on the other side of the country.
“Good. That’s good.” Once Rosemary was dealt with, perhaps all the threats to our happiness would be extinguished. That was what I was hoping for anyway.
I played with the buttons on his shirt. “How is it going at RHI with Francis and Geoffrey taking things over? Are you itching to get back yet? Do you miss it?”
“I’m not going back, Willow.” His fingers brushed through my hair, and I met his eyes again. “My phasing out was accelerated, but I’m happy with my choice. They can take care of things just fine, and I’ll be around if they really need me for something. I have absolutely no regrets about this decision.”
And there it was. He couldn’t have made it any clearer what his priorities were now. That was the best present I could’ve gotten.
I was jolted awake in the middle of the night, my hands immediately covering my belly. Nicholas’ hand slid up to cover mine.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice sleepy. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” At least I thought so. My heart was racing, but I must have imagined the twinge I felt. “Go back to sleep.”
I’d been having Braxton Hicks contractions for several weeks now, although what I thought I’d felt seemed stronger. When nothing happened again after several minutes, I brushed it off as my imagination.
Nicholas eventually dozed off again, but I couldn’t get comfortable. I threw the covers off me and onto him, my body warm enough without any added layers. The baby wasn’t really moving around, but I was restless.
And now I had a backache.
I managed to maneuver out of Nicholas’ vice grip and waddled to the bathroom. After a warm shower, I felt somewhat better and fell asleep in the large reclining chair… which was almost more comfortable than the bed.
I must have slept quite soundly, because at some point during the night Nicholas had squeezed in under me. I woke up on his lap, both of us together on the chair.
It was hard not to laugh at him, even though he was the sweetest man alive.
“What are you giggling about?” His hands rubbed over my big belly.
“You.” My head rested on his shoulder, and I turned to give him kisses under his scruffy jaw. “Did you bring a crane in to lift me up and somehow get under me last night?”
He laughed and buried his nose in my hair. “You were snoring so loud, you woke me up. I had to come over here and quiet you down.”
“Whatever! I don’t snore. You’re the one who snores. You probably woke yourself up.”
“Sure, sure.” He hummed, hugging me tightly. Patronizing bastard.
“Why were you over here anyway?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I couldn’t get comfortable, so I took a shower,” I grunted, trying to sit up straight. “Your son’s head is pressing down on my bladder.”
He laughed again, helping me stand. “You only call him my son when he’s doing something wrong.”
I looked back at him on my way to the bathroom and grinned. “Exactly.”
At thirty-seven weeks, I was both dreading and eager for our baby to be delivered. I was so accustomed now to carrying him, I wondered if I would be left with an empty feeling when he wasn’t there anymore. But then I realized I would have him in my arms, and that thought comforted me.
Since my release from the hospital, we had weekly appointments with Dr. Whitney, our last one being the day before. I was already two centimeters dilated, and she suggested I could go into labor at any time. I had worried it was too early, but she assured both me and Nicholas that our son was full-term and healthy.