“Have your boobs gotten bigger, or is it just me?”
“I don’t know. My bra did seem a little tight when I put it on.”
He wags his eyebrows. “You won’t hear me complaining,” he says and goes back to playing with my breasts.
When he kisses me I can taste myself on his lips. “God, you’re beautiful,” he says when our mouths part and he slides into me. I moan loud, and claw at the skin of his back. I’m hit with wave after wave of pleasure as he rocks into me over and over again. My hands cling to his ass, feel the muscle flex as he drives in deep.
The more I relax, the deeper he goes until I feel him at my furthest depths. It’s really sensitive inside, almost to the point of being uncomfortable, but I don’t want him to stop.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he says. His urgency grows, the sound of his voice strained and I know he’s ready.
When he thrusts down, I push my hips up so that we are slamming together, my clit crushed against his pubic bone each time our skin hits. Just as he finds his release, I do too, and I can feel my muscles contracting around him.
He slows his thrusts until he gently slides in and out of me. Not to get off again; just because it feels good for both of us to be together like this. He rests his head between my breasts, his words muffled when he speaks.
“I love you so much,” he says.
I stroke his sweaty hair, soothing the welts I’d left on his back.
“I love you too,” I tell him. “More than anything.”
Reluctantly, he pulls out and curls up next to me. We fall asleep with our limbs tangled together.
The next evening after work, Mac turns the light off at the gym while I shut computers down. It’s the end of the day, my feet hurt and I’m feeling both nauseous and starving at the same time. My feet and ankles are swollen from standing most of the day at the silk screen in the back of the building that I use to make logos on T-shirts. We could out source, but I like doing the work myself. The least amount of money we have to pay contractors, the more goes toward patient care.
“What sounds good for dinner tonight?” Mac says as he wraps his arm around my waist, drawing me into his side. We walk out the door. He locks up while I stumble, exhausted toward the car. “Chinese sounds good—no, wait, Indian. No, no, Thai sounds amazing—or how do you feel about Pho?” I say.
Everything sounds good right now. I don’t know what’s up with the nausea, though. Did I forget to eat lunch? My brain is a mess. I’m tired and my memory is all over the place. Now I remember. Yes, I did have lunch. A tuna sandwich, pickle, chips, banana, and two homemade tamales that a patient brought to me. Well I guess all that food could be why I don’t feel so great right now. So why am I so hungry? Could be because I’m using Nathan’s gym to work out. I’ve noticed I’ve put on a few pounds lately, and I want to keep things under control.
Mac is staring at me.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing. Hop in, I know exactly where we should go,” he says.
I get in the car and I’m excited to see what he chooses for dinner. He always seems to pick a place that’s perfect. But instead of pulling into a restaurant, he pulls into the parking lot of a pharmacy.
“Um … this isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I say.
He turns in his seat to face me, his eyes bright with excitement. “You’ve been nauseous, and yet you’ve been craving things you’ve never liked. When I first met you, you hated Indian food. And now your breasts are larger, and I swear there was something different about the way you felt when we had sex last night. Have you missed a period?”
“I’m not sure.”
“We should get a test. Just to see.”
I look over at the neon sign in the window and start to feel queasy again. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”
He takes my hand in his and kisses my knuckles. “Baby, I will love you no matter what, whether we have kids now, years from now, or never.”
I nod, and he leans over the car seat and kisses me. We go into the pharmacy and buy two tests, just in case. When we get home I go straight into the bathroom and pee on the sticks.
For ten minutes I sit on the chair while Mac paces the floor like a caged animal. Though he says his hopes are in check, I can see the longing in his eyes. He wants a child with me in the worst way, and so do I.
The timer I’d set goes off. It’s time to look. We hold hands and walk into the bathroom where I’d left the tests on the back of the toilet. Before we look at the results, we kiss and hold each other for a while. Finally, we break away.
“Ready for this?” I ask.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I lift up the first test and see a pink plus sign. My entire mind goes numb. I’m so distracted by that little pink symbol that it barely registers that Mac is dancing around the bathroom, hooting and hollering like a super fan whose team just won the world cup.
I pick up the second test. This one is a different brand, and instead of a pink plus sign it just simply says “pregnant.” Mac lifts me into his arms and swings me around. It finally sinks in and HOLY SHIT, I’m actually pregnant. We are both laughing and crying. I’ve never seen him cry before. He teared up a little during our vows at our wedding, but right now he’s practically weeping with happiness and so am I.
“Now what?” he says.
“I guess I call the doctor to make an appointment. And ribs. I definitely want ribs for dinner tonight.”
He laughs and squeezes me in a hug. “I will get you all the ribs you can eat tonight.”
“And ice cream,” I add.
“I’ll rent out the grocery store if that’s what you want.” He kneels down in front of me the way he did the night he proposed, and puts his ear against my belly. “My wife and my child—the two loves of my life—get whatever they want.”
He lifts my shirt and kisses my bare stomach. Nothing in this world could make me happier than I am at this very moment.
THE END