The Foster Girls #3: Elizabeth

Chapter 13: Elizabeth

It felt like I was fighting my way through peanutbutter. I struggled to open my eyes and eventually succeeded, becoming aware of a weight on my hand and on my belly. When I could finally focus, I noticed a dark, shaggy head next to my hand. And shaggy's huge hand was holding mine, his other one curled protectively around the baby mound.

The baby!

I must have made some sound, my hand going to my belly, because the shaggy head snapped to.

Holy shit! Rig?

Willow hadn't been exaggerating. His normally close-cropped hair was long and ragged looking, and his face was gaunt, dark circles under his stormy eyes. He backed away at the look on my face, his hands held up to show me he wanted me to calm down. I must have had some crazed look in my eyes.

"Elizabeth, please stay calm. You're OK and the baby's OK, and for both your sakes, you need to be calm."

I took several deep breaths. "Why are you here? How did you –?"

"Willow called me last night."

I muttered something along the lines of "traitorous bitch."

"I know you don't want to see me, that you hate me and don't want me here. And I also know you have every right to every one of those feelings." He wasn't wrong, mostly. Then he continued, "But I want to be here for you and...Funfetti."

I looked at him strangely. "Who the hell is Funfetti? One of your skanks?"

"It's what you want to name the baby."

"Like hell," I said. "I would never come up with that."

His face relaxed slightly, a smile playing around his lips. "I believe the full name is Funfetti Fluffernoodle."

"Now you're just making things up."

"Pretty sure Willow has it on video and sent it to your sisters. You were high as a kite when you came up with that. She tried to talk you out of it but you said it sounded pretty. There was even a song."

"Seriously, why are you here?"

"Where else would I be?"

"Oh, off with your nasty slags. At a bar getting drunk. Running far from this." My hand indicated my stomach. "Take your pick."

"Elizabeth, I know we have a lot to talk about –"

"Actually, we have nothing to talk about. You made sure of that six months ago."

Running a hand through his hair, Rig leveled his gaze on me and spoke evenly, his deep voice even deeper with emotion. "Elizabeth, I get it – you want me gone. But you're gonna put that on the back burner until we get everything with you and the baby under control."

For a long minute I stared into those gorgeous gray eyes, searching for...I don't know what. Apparently I was still under his voodoo, sex-god spell because instead of punching his face, I fell prey to his magnetism and that low, rough, commanding voice. If dark chocolate and sandpaper ever had a baby, it would be Rig's voice. That's the only thing that could account for me grumbling my agreement to focus on the baby.

Willow arrived shortly before the doctor, who threw around a lot of terms like preterm labor, high blood pressure and...complete bedrest.