My Babies and Me

“Whoa, there, little fella,” she murmured without thinking. She’d been having complete conversations with the kids ever since she’d found out their sexes.

“So you know they’re boys?” He hadn’t moved an inch, but Susan could feel Michael’s distance as physically as though he’d gotten up and left the room.

Shivering, she pulled the bedspread up.

“One of them is,” she said softly, tucking the spread around her belly.

Michael’s gaze flew to hers, serious, searching. “There’s one of each?”

Susan nodded, biting her lip.

He turned over, lying flat on his back, eyes wide-open as he stared at the ceiling.

In spite of herself, Susan was a little distracted by the gorgeous perfection of his body. And his unself-consciousness where his own nakedness was concerned.

At least with him to concentrate on, she didn’t have to focus on what might really be happening.

“I suppose one of each is best.” He broke into her thoughts, his chin firm as he made the assertion.

Stunned at his calmness, she rose on one elbow and stared at him.

“I would imagine raising a girl is vastly different from raising a boy. So even if this is your only pregnancy, you still get a chance to do both.” He turned and looked at her.

Afraid to move, to disrupt the tender mood between them, Susan tried to read him. Tried not to be disappointed when she couldn’t.

“That’s what I thought,” she said instead.

“Might make things a little more difficult as far as some of the practicalities are concerned.” He was staring at the ceiling again.

“How so?”

“Well, they won’t be able to share clothes for one thing.”

“But I get to buy both now, little dresses and little suit.”

Michael was off the bed so fast, Susan’s head was spinning. He grabbed a pair of denim shorts out of the drawer she’d emptied for him when he’d first come to stay, then pulled them on.

“I’m hungry,” he announced abruptly as he chose a shirt from the closet. “Italian sound okay to you?”

“Sure.” These days, any food sounded okay to her. She got up more slowly, untangled her clothes from the pile on the floor.

“I’ll run and get some take-out,” he said, tying his tennis shoes with a flourish. “Be right back.”

And he was gone. She’d barely stepped into her underwear.

MICHAEL WORKED most of Saturday, partially because he wasn’t getting a good feeling about the Miller deal. There was no indication of anything going sour. Exactly the opposite. But something bothered him....

He’d also kept himself busy because he’d known Susan would be home. And spending the day together, like any normal couple, didn’t seem wise.

Yet, when he finished late in the afternoon, he was inordinately disappointed to go looking for her and find her gone. And then relieved when he saw the note on the kitchen table.

She was at the complex pool. He was welcome to join her there if he wanted to.

He didn’t know if he wanted to or not, but ten minutes later, dressed in black boxer trunks and carrying glasses of iced peppermint tea, he joined her.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” he said, settling down on the lounge chair next to her. She was wearing a black, flowing maternity suit that looked sexier than the bikini he’d seen her in the year before.

“Thanks.” She smiled at him as she took a glass of the tea and sipped greedily. He wished her eyes weren’t hidden by the dark lenses of her sunglasses.