Her Motherhood Wish (Parent Portal 3)

She’d pretty much answered the question he hadn’t voiced. With another nod, he signaled for their check.

Chapter Seventeen

Cassie was just settling into bed that last Wednesday night in July, a second pillow behind her now that the weight in her belly was starting to expect more from her back, when a text came through. Wood had already texted, earlier in the evening, just to ask about her day. A normal check-in kind of thing. And as usual, she hadn’t answered, savoring her moments with him at bedtime. Saving her response until then so that she could have those moments.

Expecting to open the text and see the night’s furniture photo, she frowned. He hadn’t sent a photo. He’d sent a question instead.

Are you upset about something?

What on earth?

No. Why?

She put her finger to her mouth. Didn’t bite at the nail—that was gross and a habit she’d broken long ago—but she did nip at the skin. Waiting. Then turned on the TV, called up a feel-good ancient sitcom on her streaming service. Set the volume low.

Rubbed her belly, wondering if she could somehow wake up Alan, just to reassure herself that he was fine. He’d been a bit quiet for a couple of days. Moving. Just not as much as he sometimes did.

You feel more distant. Maybe I am. It’s unsettling.

Oh. Well. Scooching a little bit farther down in bed, she snuggled the covers to her breast and looked at the phon

e screen. Blinking. Staring.

Not sure where to start. Or stop.

But sure of the problem.

The bond between them had clearly become one.

So they had to deal with it.

And maybe communicating via text message was the best way...

I am being extra careful.

Yes. That was good. Maybe that would do it. So many reasons to be careful. No need to dissect the situation.

Careful how? Of what? Why?

She sat up a little bit. Ran her fingers through her hair, ended up with a couple of blond strands in her hand. Shedding extra hair was a pregnancy side effect, she’d learned, and a product of stress. Either way, the woman who trimmed the dead ends off her hair every six months wasn’t the least bit worried about it.

Her phone binged Wood’s dedicated message tone.

You there?

She’d already seen the words. She’d been staring at the screen when they’d come through.

Yes. Just trying to figure out what to say.

This whole relationship with him was so hard. And worth any amount of work.

I’m going crazy needing to get naked with you. I think about it all the time. But I need you in my life. She deleted that last line. Typed again. I want you in my life. Alan needs you. And so I’m being careful not to screw things up.

She reread. Hit Send.

And nothing happened. The phone went completely silent. Tempted to do what he’d done to her and ask if he was there, she decided not to. She trusted him to choose his own reaction. And trusted herself to follow his lead.

Apologies ahead of time for the crudeness. I have a hard-on that is causing physical distress. Carrying one around has become more common these days. It’s the price I’m paying, that I’ll gladly pay for the rest of my life, to know my son. And to have you in my life.