Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

Tasha held out her hand and he took it, helping her off the couch. When she leaned against him, he automatically hugged her, sheltering and holding her close. His frustration didn’t diminish, but it slid to a back burner. How could he stay on edge with her in his arms?

Her voice was soft, but clear. “Max, how many hours are there in a day? And how many of those hours do you spend doing things for other people? Dealing with emergencies, taking care of family? Then add the hours you’ve put into building your business.”

He still could have done better. “I’ve always been able to do it all before.”

“You’ve never been in this situation before. You’ve dealt with your education and moving out and living alone—I bet during each one of those seasons of your life you had different responsibilities, right?”

Fuck . No fair breaking out the logic. He couldn’t fight logic. “I know where you’re going with this, but that doesn’t make it any better.”

She grabbed his chin in her hands and squeezed. “It makes it real. You can’t be everything to everyone. You’ve got a full-time job, you’ve got me and a baby about to arrive. Your life has changed, this is your new reality. Maxine is old enough she’s not going to share everything with you anymore. She’s thinking about the same kind of things you have. About establishing a family and moving to the next stage of her life. Don’t you want that for her?”

“Of course.”

“And since you’re not spending all your time with her, that means she’s got time to visit with others like me. I think she’s enjoying my company. Are you going to begrudge me that?”

“Of course not.”

She squeezed him hard, her smile lighting up her face, and she’d never looked more beautiful. “Then set the routines into place that will let you take care of what’s really important—like you taught me back when we started exercising together. Take care of the things that are important, and that’s all you can do. But, Max, make sure you’re asking your sister what’s significant to her. You might be surprised how eager she is to grasp more independence, especially from the family.”

The sense in her words settled deep. “I still think Jamie was an asshole.”

Tasha snickered. “Agreed. And I guess he sucked in the sack—”

“ Nooooo .” Max slammed his hands over his ears and mock-glared at her.

She covered her mouth to hold back her laughter, the other hand dropping to support her belly.

Minx . He tweaked her nose, then more seriously wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, staring into her beautiful eyes. God, he loved her. “What would I do without you?”

He leaned in and kissed her thoroughly before grabbing a file folder off the table and retreating to his office. He needed to figure out the legalese of the family legacy and the house, so he could make sure that Maxine didn’t lose the one thing she’d already made clear was important to her.

Tasha stared at his back as he left, feeling as if she’d somehow won the lottery. Being able to reassure him ? Priceless.

She wandered into the kitchen, struck by a sudden desire for orange juice. After pouring it, the bags of groceries on the table caught her eye, and the dirty shelves in the fridge. They’d be moving tomorrow and the fridge was still a mess. She pulled everything off the top shelf, grabbed a warm washcloth and a small box, and started organizing items as she organized her thoughts.

This morning she’d woken with a million different threads running through her brain, looping around and knotting together until she’d given up on sleep and hauled her heavy body out of bed and into the shower. The water had done nothing to clear the tangled mess, and she’d wandered the apartment restlessly for hours.

The venomous night on the porch a week ago had become a catalyst in her life. She had seen it—there was something so bitter in her old friend that it had leached into her soul and now flooded out to hurt others. It hadn’t been pretty to experience, but realizing that Lila dealt with that bitterness daily made Tasha more determined than ever to move on.

She didn’t want to be like Lila. Bitter and alone. Refusing to accept the love being offered. Tasha was tired of being dragged back down by the things she’d thought were long buried. For the past week she’d been systematically going through all her emotional baggage. Stacking the items up and considering if they were worth holding on to, or ready for the trash.

Unfortunately, for every hurt she tossed aside, the pain of remembering took its toll and she’d been exhausted. Even this morning she’d finally admitted defeat and crawled onto the couch and collapsed with the chill of the past clinging to her.

Waking to look into his loving gaze.

Max.

He’d said he loved her. Shown it so many different ways. The thought he might not return her feelings, or might sometime choose his freedom over her—neither of those situations worried her anymore, no matter what Lila had said. Of the two of them, who should she believe? There was no contest. Maxwell Turner was a trustworthy man.

His concerned face from minutes earlier rose to her mind, and the flash of inspiration that hit made her grab the fridge door and cling tight. Right now, they were dealing with the same issue. The same advice she’d just given to Max applied to her.

Your life has changed, this is your new reality.

This was where she was—and the people she was with. She wasn’t the child abandoned by a father or uncaring mother; there were no cheating partners or unfaithful friends in her immediate circle. She was a thirty-four-year-old woman with a baby on the way. There was a man in her life who loved her, and cared for her with more energy than any one person had a right to possess. She had true friends and family surrounding her who would do everything they could to make her happy.

They all loved her.

But most of all, there was Max.

Tasha wiped away the tears flooding her eyes. There was no more denying it—how much she loved him. It had taken far too long to admit it, but it was there, inside her.

No rockets went off, no loud thunderclaps or brilliant fanfare accompanied her realization. Only tightness in her throat, and a building joy to melt the final layers of icy fear that had coated her heart for so long.

She loved him.

In the middle of her apartment kitchen with the mismatched appliances and all the cupboard contents loaded into cardboard boxes, her world turned one hundred and eighty degrees. Her own little miracle, and not a single person witnessed it.

She marveled over her realization. Love—such an ordinary event, but oh-so-extraordinary as she acknowledged it for the first time.

Tasha leaned over, the skin on her stomach stretched taut, muscles aching slightly. She slipped the box onto the clean shelf and stood, hands tight to the small of her back.

The front muscle band across her stomach, way down low, tightened again and she groaned. Damn Braxton Hicks. Talk about the ordinary and the extraordinary combining. She’d been experiencing the false contractions off and on for the past three weeks. They weren’t painful, more annoying, like a muscle that had been worked to the point of fatigue, tight and rigid. The first time they’d hit, she’d been astonished and slightly afraid. Now she took it in stride, breathing slowly until the muscles relaxed.

Again, awareness hit her. The reality was their baby would be here soon, and her body was getting ready. The practice contractions, as the books called them, were preparing her for when the real thing came along and Samantha would arrive.