Owning Beauty (Taking Beauty Trilogy 3)

I propped myself up on an elbow. “Tell me.” She rolled onto her back and I draped my other arm across her, my palm against her stomach. “Come on, love. I want to know.”

Liz hedged for a moment, and I wondered if she was going to close right back up again, start hiding things from me. I wanted to be in the loop so badly, wanted more than anything to be considered worthy enough to be part of her world. Hers, and this child’s. Hell, I wanted it to be our world, our lives merged in the same way our bodies had been. I anxiously awaited her response, hoping like hell I’d actually get one.

Finally, she said, “It just feels so surreal,” and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. She must have noticed, because she chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’m having trouble putting it into words.”

“Take your time,” I said, feeling significantly more secure now that I knew she wasn’t clamming up on me. I began kissing along the curve of her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She let me dote on her for several long minutes, shivering and cooing every time I gusted a light, hot breath against the fine hairs on her arms and nape. It felt good to give her such a sensual experience without anything in return, without any expectations on either of our ends. I let my fingers wander across her hips, finding the places where her skin was thinnest and stroking the nerve endings there.

“I guess I’m having a hard time connecting to all of this,” she admitted, squirming cutely under my touch. “I know what my doctor said. And I know I’ve got all the symptoms. But so much of it just doesn’t seem like it’s really happening, or if it is, it almost feels like it’s happening to someone else.” She looked up at me and sighed. “I feel like a bad woman.”

I laughed at that. Maybe it was a little cruel, but I couldn’t help it. The idea of Liz being a bad anything was so absurd. “You’re going to have to explain that one to me, I’m afraid.”

Scrunching her nose, she huffed. “It’s hard to want to explain anything at all when you laugh at me.”

I held up my hand in a disarming gesture. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just think you’re the cats pyjamas, and I don’t understand how anyone could ever think otherwise—even you.” She rolled her eyes and I kissed that wrinkled nose of hers. “I’ll spare you the laughter this time. Promise. Just know it came from the heart.”

“Mm,” she said, a noncommittal answer if I’d ever heard one. Then she shrugged. “Every time I’ve heard women talk about being pregnant, they say there’s this… inherent connection between them and the baby. They can feel them all the time, sense them, like they’ve got this… this intrinsic bond before the kid’s even born.” Her voice went real quiet and she looked away from me. “I don’t have that.”

I laid my head down on the pillow beside her and thought a moment, twisting my fingers softly around her navel. “You ever think those women are exaggerating, love? Maybe trying to make the experience more glamorous, spiritual, and mystical than it actually is? Not to say that carrying a child’s not special, but…”

Liz shrugged again. “They seem to believe it.” I tried a different approach.

“Well, if pregnancy is so personal and unique… then maybe there’s no universal way to experience it.” She glanced at me, and I continued. “Those women. Would you say they’re the, ah… emotional sort? Not in a bad way, just—they rule with their hearts, more than their heads?”

She nodded. “I guess.”

“There you are, then,” I said triumphantly. “You, my dear, are the practical sort. Rational. Head over heart.” I kissed the crown of her head as if I could reach her brain, and she giggled. “No wonder your experience is so different. You’re different. And there’s not a bloody thing wrong with that.”

“Thanks,” Liz said in a thoughtful, drawn-out way. The look on her face resembled a kind of bemusement. “I wasn’t actually expecting you to make me feel so much better about that.”

I held my hand over my chest, as if wounded. “Your vote of confidence moves me.” She sucked her teeth and I winked in reply.

“Still…” When she looked away, I spied a bit of wistfulness replacing her indignance. “I do wish I had something… something like evidence… to make me feel like all this was real. Something tangible. Something…” She wet her lips, and I could tell she was struggling to put together what she meant. Poor Liz still wasn’t so good where feelings were concerned, I could tell. “I dunno. Maybe something I could see.”

I frowned, looking skyward as I considered this. What she was saying made perfect sense to me. As the father of the child in question, I felt so far removed from the experience that it all seemed a little unreal to me, as well. I’d figured that would fade in time, that as Liz began to show and the baby began to kick, the whole thing would come into focus for me. I could wait for that.

But to know that she was in the same boat… that made me want to act. Made me want to do something for her that would speed up the process, give her the clarity she desired now. I was swiftly learning that I had no patience when it came to Liz’s whims. Whatever she wanted, I wanted to give to her. Immediately, if not sooner.

Out of that desire, a solution was born. I blinked, a bit shocked that I’d been the one of us to think of it, but pleasantly so. This was my opportunity to be impressive out of the bedroom. I grinned at her slyly, rolled halfway on top of her, and said:

“No worries, love. I think I know just the thing.”

Elizabeth

I was honestly more scared than I thought that I would be at this point, especially considering how painless this entire situation was supposed to be—but then again, I had never had an ultrasound performed on me, and new things had always made me nervous.

Normally, a pregnant woman wouldn’t get an ultrasound done until after her first eighteen weeks to make sure that everything was going properly, but after my pillow-talk confession, Julian had thought arranging for one as soon as possible wouldn’t be the worst idea. If anything, at least we’d have a solid idea of when I was actually due.

“You’re shaking,” Julian whispered in my ear, almost chidingly. “It’s going to be fine. They aren’t even going to stick you with a needle.”

“I know that,” I said, nudging him with my elbow as we sat in the waiting room, awkwardly trying to make sure no one recognized us. He had a ball cap pulled down over his face and a pair of aviators on like he was the Winter Soldier, or something. “I just… I’m nervous about seeing the baby.”

“You were nervous about not seeing it, too,” he reminded me, and I grunted in reply. Then he added, “It’ll be fine. Thing’s not any bigger than a sea monkey at this stage, anyway.”

I gave him a look as he grinned, pushing his ears forward and puffing out his cheeks like an actual monkey. I didn’t want him to make me smile. I wanted to worry. At least then I felt like I could prepare myself for the worst.

“At least there aren’t any cameras,” I sighed, feeling an unnerving amount of gratitude for Tessa. When we told her we were getting the ultrasound done, she let a rumor slip that Julian and I would be at some restaurant across town, drawing the paparazzi on a wild goose chase far away from where we really were. Even I had to admit that it was brilliant, and it afforded us some much needed time away from the constant vigilance of the media. I nearly felt like we were just a normal couple enjoying a momentous, and private, moment in our lives.

“Yeah,” Julian agreed, though from the look on his face as he glanced over his shoulder, he might’ve been searching for some wood to knock on. “Hopefully it bloody stays that way.”

“They can’t just barge into the doctor’s office,” I said, following his gaze through the window that opened out onto the parking lot. “Can they?”

“They’ll sure as hell try,” he said, squeezing my arm. “But I don’t see any of those bastards yet, so…”

“Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin?” a nurse called, and Julian stood like a flash and pulled me over to the counter. I could have swor

n that he was going to pull my damn arm off if it weren’t slotted into the joint.

“Yes, that’s us,” he said, flashing the nurse a faint smile. “Is the doc ready for us?”

The nurse stared at him for a good minute, not out of recognition, but annoyance.

“The ultrasound technician has a room ready,” she said, accentuating every syllable of their title. “You’ll see the doctor once the tech is finished, and he’ll go over the results.”

There was a soft buzzing sound and she motioned for us to head toward the door leading back into the office proper and out of the waiting area.

“Third door on your right,” she said before sliding her little window shut.

Julian and I stepped into the room the woman at the desk had indicated. The door was already open and there was one of those uncomfortable exam tables waiting for me, complete with disposable paper upholstery and a deflated pillow. Parked next to it was a strange-looking console on caster wheels with an HD television attached to the top. I’d never had an opportunity to see one up close, but I could only assume that this was the ultrasound machine that would be looking inside of me.

Just the thought of seeing my insides—even if they were going to be just grainy black and white pictures of them—gave me a chill. I never liked the idea of someone being able to see into my body, I could never explain why. Maybe it was some primal instinct left over from the days where a human was as likely as not to get torn apart and eaten by some hungry beast. Or maybe it was yet another side-effect of my private, reserved nature rearing its ugly head. Whatever the case, it gave me the creeps.