Page 15 of Against the Odds

“What’s got you looking like you’re ready for combat? It’s been years since I’ve seen that look, and I gotta say I’m not loving it on my wedding day.”

“Fuck off. I was thinking about something Katy said earlier. She mentioned the baby as a teenage daughter, and I felt all kinds of protective.”

Grant laughs and reaches for a fresh beer, holding up the bottle, offering one to the rest of us. I decline but both Taylor and Connor accept. “Casano—” he begins but corrects himself when he catches my eye. “Ian, man, just you wait. If it is a girl you are in for the ride of your life. The sweet innocence followed by these waves of complete hysteria and anger. It’s crazy. I love my girls but I’m here to tell you, girls are work. And don’t worry, if it’s a girl, I’ll be there with you on the first date with a shotgun we can pretend to clean.”

We all laugh but the funniest part is that Connor will deal with all of this before any of us and I think that realization just hit him. Either that or the beer and shot of tequila he took earlier have hit him, causing his skin to turn a light shade of green.

“Don’t worry, man. Clem is one tough cookie. She won’t need you to terrorize any scrawny kid who comes calling,” I tease with complete honesty. That girl is a little intimidating, and I’ve stared down the enemy through a scope in the desert.

My phone chimes with an alarm—the first of three set by Katy—letting me know it’s time for us to get dressed. The next, set an hour from now, is labeled: “you should be leaving the room” and the third is in all caps: “YOU ARE LATE IF YOU AREN’T WITH THE PHOTOGRAPHER.” Lucky for the maid of honor and the photographer, we’re military men and are all about punctuality.

“Time to get ready,” I order, each of the guys groaning as they begin moving around the room, grabbing their things.

I pull up the text chat with Katy and let her know we’re on time.

Me: Alarm #1 in the books.

Katy: And is everyone doing their part?

Me: Of course. We’re soldiers, we can get dressed in minutes.

Katy: Good. I guess I’ll see you at the altar.

I know she doesn’t mean it the way it sounded, but I can’t say I haven’t wondered what our future looks like.

Me: I’ll be there.

Me: How are you feeling?

Katy: Like a whale. I think I’ve gotten bigger since I put this dress on.

Me: I’m sure you look beautiful.

Katy: You have to say that because I have your child punching my kidneys.

Me: Nah. I only speak the truth. Also, if I could tell him to knock it off I would.

Katy: Him?

Me: Yeah, that teenage daughter thing is what nightmares are made of. It’s a boy.

Katy: Whimp!

I put the phone down, a permanent smile on my face and get my ass in gear. I don’t want to be the one to make us late.

ChapterTwelve

KATY

I am a liar. A bold-faced liar.

The first time Ian asked me if I was okay, it was the truth. I was fine. Then about the time the makeup artist finished with my lipstick, I felt the first twinge of a contraction. It wasn’t obvious at first, and I figured it was just from sitting in an uncomfortable chair. Nope.

By the time he sent the last text before the guys were headed for photos, I was still okay. About every twelve minutes or so. In between contractions. I read books about labor and tried to imagine what it would feel like. My imagination could never reach the depths of the sensation of a contraction.

Thankfully I have asked a lot of questions, spent time researching online, and read a dozen books over the last few months to prepare me for this day. I can’t say the same for Ian. A week ago he didn’t even know my last name and now we’re having a baby. Possibly today.

His eyes have stayed focused on me since I stepped onto the aisle runner. I admit to staring right back. How could I not? Giving James Bond a run for his money, Ian is a woman’s fantasy come to life. From the perfectly tailored charcoal gray suit to the tie and pocket square that match my dress perfectly, he looks like a model. His dark eyes narrow slightly as I approach the altar, but a smirk on his lips lets me know it’s a look of appreciation. He better be appreciative. I’m going to stand up here and not groan when I have a contraction in about eight minutes.

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