LUKA (The Rhythm Series, Book 2) (21 page)

One excuse I’d given out was that I wanted to be sure it was safe for her to have sex. Sarah nearly went through the roof when I said that. She pulled up a gazillion websites on her phone insisting that it wasn’t even an issue, but I insisted nothing was happening in the bedroom until she’d been checked out. I hadn’t even let her blow me. I swear her BP jumped fifty points that day—definitely not good for her.

Yeah, I was a fucking coward. But one who was trying to do the right thing. I just wish I knew what that was, and no one could tell me.

I stared at the landscape of her belly, round now and not soft exactly. I was fascinated by the way she was changing. I’d never been this close to a pregnant woman before—it was an unknown land. And because she dressed in baggy sweats or long, floral skirts most of the time, she’d kept her body hidden from me. But now, in front of a prenatal technician, I could see all of her.

I felt her fingers tighten and I looked up, meeting her worried expression.

“You look so cute with your little potbelly,” I said honestly, hoping the compliment would make her smile.

She huffed indignantly and dropped my hand.

I winced, realizing I’d said the wrong thing. Again.

The technician glanced at me, keeping his face under close control, but I swear I saw his lips twitch as he held back a smile.

He passed the metal wand over her swollen stomach, staring intently at the computer screen in front of him, then he smiled.

“The flickering you see is your baby’s heartbeat: strong and healthy. Listen.” And he turned a dial on the monitor.

A fast, galloping beat with a strange whooshing sound came from the speakers, and my own heart lurched inside my chest.

My child’s heartbeat.
It was hard to breathe, my lungs squeezing painfully, and my eyes began to burn with tears.

It wasn’t the first time Sarah had heard this, but it was for me. I didn’t know how to describe the storm of emotions rushing through me. I gripped her hand without thinking as my world titled on its axis.

My child—half of me
. And suddenly it seemed like the most amazing gift. I kept staring at Sarah’s belly, stunned by the miracle that had just become real to me.

“Would you like to know the sex of your baby?” asked the technician.

“Yes,” Sarah said immediately, her eyes glowing with excitement.

I nodded wordlessly.

“It’s a girl. Congratulations.”

My daughter
.

He pressed a button, printing out a blurry image and passed it to Sarah.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a minute.”

It was real. Sarah was carrying my child and I was going to be a father, someone’s papa.

I realized that my cheeks were wet with tears.

“Are you okay?” Sarah whispered, squeezing my fingers again, then reaching up to track a single teardrop across my cheekbone and down to my chin.

“My God!
Moja hči!
Our daughter!” I coughed out, my eyes flicking between her and the grainy photograph.

“Our little miracle,” she smiled softly.

And maybe that’s exactly what it was: a chance for me to prove to God or the world that I could do one thing right. I had a second chance.

I leaned down and kissed Sarah on the lips.

“Thank you,” I said. “I never thought this would be . . . I don’t know . . . but it feels happy, in here,” and I pointed at my chest.

Her cheeks bloomed pink, and she gave me the softest, sweetest smile.

“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?”

I wanted to agree, I wanted this moment to be perfect. And somehow it was, knowing our daughter was growing, healthy, a new life.

I wanted it to be perfect with Sarah.

Somehow, somehow, please let me make this work.

She sighed and rested her cheek against my hand.

“I love you, Luka.”

“I know.”

The technician returned a moment later with a woman who could have been a nurse or a doctor, or even the mythical midwife that we kept being told we’d see, but hadn’t yet met.

She introduced herself as Melanie, so that didn’t help either.

“Everything is looking good here,” she said, studying the computer images that the technician had left up for her. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Yes!” Sarah said, struggling to sit up as she wiped the gel from her skin. “It’s okay for us to have sex, right?”

The woman smiled knowingly.

“Of course. The baby is perfectly safe surrounded by the amniotic sac. You also have a thick, mucus plug that seals your cervix, and that guards against infection. Sex won’t hurt you or your baby. In fact, there’s some research that shows women who have more orgasms during pregnancy are less likely to deliver early.”

“Oh that sounds great,” said Sarah brightly, then blushing as the doctor/nurse/midwife chuckled.

“But I should say that you might want to avoid deep penetration, as it’s possible that might feel a little uncomfortable, especially in the later months. So if you use the doggy position,” she said, looking at my frozen face, “you might want to put a small pillow between your lower tummy and Sarah’s backside.”

I think my eyes just about rolled out of my head. I had
not
expected to get a sex lesson during Sarah’s hospital appointment. And
lower tummy? Really?

Sarah was frowning slightly and nodding at everything that was said, taking it all in. Then she turned to look at me and smacked my leg.

“I told you fucking was fine.”

The nurse/doctor/midwife laughed as Sarah blushed and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh God, sorry! My filter is completely broken.”

“You never had one,” I muttered.

“That’s quite alright. I’ve heard far worse during childbirth.”

In the taxi on the way back to Sarah’s apartment, she snuggled into my side as I put my arm around her shoulders and leaned back against the leather seats.

She smiled and stroked her stomach, a glow of happiness lighting her from the inside.

“It feels real now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You . . . you were crying in there.”

I nodded, words trapped in my throat.

“Are you okay?”

Her blue eyes were so worried, so warm, I leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

“I’m fine,” I breathed against her mouth. “We’re going to be fine.”

She sagged against me and we both shed a few tears.

“Our daughter,” she sobbed out quietly, tears running over her smiling lips.

“Our daughter,” I murmured against her salty lips, kissing her again.

And when we got back to the apartment, I smoked my last cigarette, then took her to bed.

The next day I asked her to marry me.

“YOU’RE SO FUCKING
selfish!”

Seth’s eyes blazed at me.

“Doesn’t my sister deserve someone who’ll love her to the ends of the earth, not go along with it because you’re having a kid? She deserves to be loved for herself.”

He’d barged into me outside the theater before my show, his eyes black with anger.

Ben raised his eyebrows when he walked past and saw him, but wisely said nothing.

I shrugged out of Seth’s grip, and headed across the road to the pub. I needed a couple of shots of tequila before I had this conversation.

I stood at the bar, my back rigid with fury as I downed the two shots one after the other, then swiped the bottle of beer that was my chaser.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I snarled

Strong emotions swam behind his angry eyes as he glared at me.

“I know you don’t love Sarah . . .” he began.

“You know dick!” I hissed at him. “You come here, to where I work, start shooting your mouth off when I haven’t seen you for weeks and you couldn’t even answer a fucking text message.”

Chagrin passed over his face, but was soon replaced with fury.

“You can’t marry her! You don’t love her!”

I slammed my bottle down on the bar, shoving him in the chest so he staggered back.

“I loved her before I loved you,” I spat at him. “She’s been one of my closest friends for nearly two years. We’ve shared shit you can’t even begin to understand. So you can fuck right off. I don’t give a shit what you think.”

My fists clenched and I was close to punching him in the head.

A myriad of expressions flitted across his face, settling into shock and pain.

“You . . . you
loved
me?”

Shit! Had I said that?

I took a deep breath and realized that my hands were shaking with tension.

“I love Sarah.”

“No, I heard you! You said . . . is it really past tense now?”

“So what if I did love you?” I shouted at him. “You didn’t want me! You threw me away! You wanted me to live a lie. Well, fuck you! This is what it looks like. But whatever you think, I love your sister and we’re going to be a family.”

“Luka,” he said softly. “Don’t do this. It will be a terrible mistake.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? This was your idea, but now . . . I’ve heard her heartbeat, Seth. My daughter. I’m trying here. I’m really trying to . . .”

“To what?” he gasped, his voice cracking. “To fuck up everyone’s lives and make them all as miserable as you? Because that’s what you’re doing.”

I didn’t even realize that I’d hit him until I saw him lying on the floor, his lip bleeding.

I swore in Slovene and stared down at his shocked face before I turned and left the pub, hoping no one had decided to call the police.

Numbness filled me as I ran my hand under the cold tap in the theater’s changing rooms, washing the blood off of my knuckles.

Ben walked in and clasped me on the shoulder. He didn’t bother to ask any stupid questions like,
Are you alright?

I was very far from alright.

“You’d better go and get into costume, mate,” he said quietly. “Curtain up in 20 minutes.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “The show must go on.”

I don’t remember much more about that night. I know I lost myself in the music, my body finding a rhythm in the dance. The movement has to connect with the audience. But sometimes, like tonight, I don’t even know what I do on stage; it’s like I black out and time rushes and I’m at the end of the show. All the work, all the rehearsals, over a hundred shows, it becomes habit.

Two hours later, I emerged blinking under the spotlights that shone in my eyes as we took our bows at the end.

I don’t remember showering or catching the Tube back to Sarah’s apartment.

I do remember that I woke her up and fucked her until she screamed my name.

But I couldn’t forget Seth’s words.

They were burned on my soul.

The weeks passed, and Fall faded into Winter. The leaves turned gold and red and brown, until they shriveled and fell from the trees. Fat raindrops slapped against the gray sidewalks, and towering black clouds darkened the skies.

Sarah was unhappy.

She wore my ring on her finger and we both tried hard to be a normal couple, preparing for the birth of our first child, but cracks were appearing. I hadn’t attempted to see Mrs. Lintort again, although Sarah saw her several times a week. I could tell that she missed her brother, too.

Seth had taken a contract in Singapore and wouldn’t be back in the U.K. until just before Christmas.

Against my better judgement, I promised Sarah that we’d celebrate the holidays at her mother’s house. I can’t say I was looking forward to it, but unless I wanted to be a complete dick, I didn’t have much choice either.

I hadn’t spoken to Seth again since the evening of our fight, and that wore on my nerves. I picked up my cell to text him a hundred times, but never sent the message.

Some things are better left unsaid.

The first week of December was approaching and I was due to fly out to Chicago for five days to help Ash audition a dancer to replace Sarah. He didn’t really need me there for that, but he knew I needed to get away for a while. The tour rehearsals had already been put back so that I could be in London for the birth in February. He was a good friend.

Arlene had been decent. I’d stayed with the show much longer than either of us had planned. She was also a fan of
Slave
and happy that we’d be touring again. She promised to come see the show when we were back in London.