The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(22)
Author: J.R. Ward

“I’m not and I never will.” Beth put her hand on her stomach and tried to imagine something other than three squares and a couple of desserts in it. “I just … really want a baby, and I’m not sure he’s on board. If it happens, though … well, maybe it’ll be a good thing.”

Actually, he’d told her once he didn’t see children in their future. But that had been a while ago and …

Payne gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’m happy for you—and I hope this works. But as I said, I better go, because if that old superstition is true, I don’t want to find myself in trouble.” She turned to the bathroom’s partially closed door. “Layla! I have to head out!”

“Thanks for coming by! Beth? You’re staying, yes?”

“Yup. I’m here for the duration.”

As Payne took off, Beth had too much energy to sit down, the idea that she was keeping something from Wrath not sitting well. Bottom line, they needed to talk this out; it was just a question of finding a good “when” for that.

And the whole needing/kid thing wasn’t the only thing hanging over her. That confron with Wrath and the boys still stung. Men. She loved the Brotherhood—each one of them would lay down his life for her and had always put their flesh and blood where it counted with Wrath. But sometimes the all-for-one, one-for-all stuff drove her nuts—

More heaving. To the point where Beth winced and put her face in her hands.

Get ready for this, she told herself. It’s all well and good to have delusions of dollies and plush toys, cooing and cuddles, but there was a ground level to parenting—and pregnancy—that she’d better be prepared to handle.

Although at this rate, her needing didn’t seem to be in a big hurry to show up. She’d been in here every night for how long? And yeah, she was feeling hormonal—or it could be that life was just really hard right now.

Yeah, ’cuz that’s exactly when you start trying for a kid.

She must be insane.

Hitting the bed and stretching out her legs, she reached for her pint of Ben & Jerry’s and attacked it with her spoon. Stabbing into the carton, she dug out the chocolate chunks and ground them between her molars, not particularly tasting anything.

She’d never been an emotional eater before, but lately? She was chomping down when she wasn’t hungry, and it was beginning to show.

On that note, she lifted up her shirt and popped the button and the zipper on her jeans.

Sagging against the pillows, she wondered how it was possible to go from the heights of passion and connection to this morose depression so fast: At the moment, she was convinced she was never going to go into her needing, much less conceive … and that she was married to a guy who was a serious lunkhead.

Resuming her digging, she managed to excavate the mother lode of chunk veins and told herself to get a grip. Or … at the very least wait for all the chocolate to kick in and elevate her mood.

Better living through Ben & Jerry’s.

Should be the company’s tagline.

Eventually, there was the flush of a toilet followed by a course of running water. When the Chosen came out, Layla’s face was as white as the loose robing she wore—and her smile was as resplendent as the sun.

“Sorry about that!” the female said cheerfully. “How are you?”

“More important, how are—”

“I’m fantastic!” she said as she went over to the ice cream. “Oh, this is beautiful. Just what I need to ease things down there.”

“I had to weed out the straw—”

Layla threw a hand up. Brought her other one to her mouth. Shook her head.

On a choked breath, she muttered, “I can’t even hear that word.”

Beth waved things away. “Not to worry, not to worry. We don’t even have the Flavor That Shall Not Be Named in the house.”

“I’m sure that’s a lie, but I will go with it, thank you rather much.”

As the Chosen got in bed with her bowl, she glanced over. “You are so kind to me.”

Beth smiled. “After everything you’ve been through, it doesn’t feel like nearly enough.”

Almost losing the baby—then the miscarriage stopping like magic. No one really knew what had been wrong or how it had resolved itself, but—

“Beth? Is anything troubling you?”

“No, why?”

“You don’t look right.”

Beth exhaled and wondered if she could get away with lying. Probably not.

“I’m sorry.” She scraped the inside of the carton, digging out the last of the mint ice cream. “I’m all … up in my head right now.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“I’m just overwhelmed by everything.” She put the carton aside and let her head fall back. “I feel like there’s this weight hanging over me.”

“With Wrath where he is, I don’t know how you get through the nights—”

There was a knock at the door, and when Layla answered, it was not a surprise that Blay and Qhuinn came in. The two fighters looked awkward, though—and not because of the Chosen.

Beth cursed herself. “Can I just get my apology to you two over with now?”

As Blay went across and sat next to Layla, Qhuinn planted his shitkickers and shook his head. “You got nothing to sorry us about.”

“So I was the only one who thought I jumped down your throats? Come on.” And now that she’d cooled off and was properly chocolatized, she needed to apologize to her husband—as well as get him to talk. “I didn’t mean to come across like a bitch.”

“Rough times.” Qhuinn shrugged. “And I’m not interested in saints.”

“Really? You’re in love with one,” Layla chimed in.

As Qhuinn glanced over at Blay, his mismatched eyes narrowed. “Damn straight I am,” he said softly.

As the redhead turned red—natch—that connection between the two males became positively tangible.

Love was such a beautiful thing.

Beth rubbed the center of her chest, and had to redirect things before she started tearing up. “I only wanted to know what John was saying.”

Qhuinn’s face closed down. “Talk to your hubs.”

“I will.” And there was a part of her that wanted to finish up here with the Chosen and go directly to Wrath’s study. But then she thought of all those petitions he and Saxton were working on. It seemed too selfish to barge in there and interrupt the pair.