Page 18 of Mismatched

“What if—” I clear my throat. “What if we had a baby?”

She wrinkles her nose, then gives me the automatic answer we always give when people ask about this. “We will. Someday.”

She continues into the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet where she keeps the pink plastic compact and its ring of colored pills. But as I watch her take it from the shelf, I’m filled with the most foreign sense of dread.

“No,” I say, circling behind her in the small bathroom so we’re both staring into the mirror. I reach around her waist, gently tugging the belt of her robe until it falls open. I pull the two sides apart and run my hands up the front of her nightgown, snaking over every curve of her body until I reach her full, delicious breasts. I squeeze them together, grinding my fingertips over her nipples through the fabric until her head lolls back against my shoulder and she lets out a gasp. I’m not sure when it happened, but all at once I realize my dick is hard as fuck and I’m completely turned on. I press against her ass so it’s clear she knows it too, and then I whisper in her ear. “I meant, what if we do it now?”

Her breath is ragged, still lost in the touch that finally brought us together, but she catches my eye in the mirror. “Do what?”

I pull her against me so her chest thrusts forward and we can both watch my hands work over her in the reflection. I tug her neckline down to reveal one nipple, then pin her to the sink, grinding against her with my hips, overcome with desire to push inside her. “Make a baby.”

“What?” She stops moving, staring at me in the mirror, her forehead set with lines.

I slide the pill case out of her hand and place it on the counter, grazing my lips over her ear. “Let’s grow our family. Now. Tonight.”

She frowns, pulls her gown back up, and turns all the way around in my arms until we’re facing one another. “That’s not a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea. Why not?” I take in her flushed skin and mussed hair, breasts swelling, begging to be touched under her nightdress. And even though I have always found my wife physically beautiful, tonight I see her in a whole new way. She looks... ripe. Fertile. I press my erection against her stomach, aching to slide into her and—fuck—consummate seems like the only word for what I want to do.

But before I can reach down to lift the hem of her nightgown, reveal the naked pussy I know is waiting there for me, Lydia places her hand on my chest and shoves. Then, in the newly created space between us, she grabs the pill dispenser on the counter, punches a tablet through the foil, and swallows it.

“Because, Anton. I don’t want to.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I watch the lust fade from his eyes and wonder if I made a mistake.

For about half a second, before I remember what we’re talking about. Making another entire human life—a person. Growing it inside my body. No, thank you. Not yet.

I pull my robe back together and tie the belt, watching my husband slump in defeat from the corner of my eye. Part of me wants to take him into my arms, tell him it’ll be okay. But after what just happened, I doubt he’d find it comforting. And I need a little space.

“Look, I just...” I’m not even sure where to start. Obviously, he’s been struggling in the week since his mom passed, which feels like both forever and no time at all. I never expected him to pull away from me, which has been upsetting considering all we’ve been through the last few months. But also not totally surprising, given the circumstances. “This doesn’t seem like a good time to make that kind of decision.”

He raises his head. “It seems like the perfect time.”

I turn up my palms. “How?”

“You’ve got Henry at the Pooches now. The new location is launched. You even said he wants to consolidate the grooming. That would make everything even easier.”

I bristle. If that’s what he took away from what I shared, he was not listening. But even that’s beside the point.

“So, all you mentioned there was my job.”

He hesitates. “Well, it’s one of the biggest factors.”

I force myself to breathe deep, trying not to sputter. “Did you ever think of asking if I’m ready to be a mother?”

His brows draw together. “But we’ve always?—”

“We’ve talked about it. And made plans for ‘someday,’ and it has been fun to think about the possibilities. But daydreaming and doing—to my life, my body—are different things.”

I’m not even fully aware of some of the things hitting my brakes until I hear them come out of my mouth, but they’re true. My focus has been more on management than it used to be, but my work is still very physical. I am constantly lifting heavy dog food, heavy dogs, working with animals that aren’t always predictable. I don’t know how pregnancy would affect my body, but I can’t imagine it would make any of that easier.

But if I’m honest, it’s not the physical part I’m most stuck on. It isn’t hard to picture myself with a giant basketball belly. But I draw a huge blank trying to imagine what happens after that. Even after spending the evening watching my sister dote over her son, I just can’t even conceptualize myself as a mom.

To his credit, Anton thinks over my words a long time. “You’re right. I can’t do much to help with the physical part. Pregnancy happens to your body,” he says carefully. “But I would support you, take on as much as I could for those nine months. And once the baby is born, you would never be on your own. That’s the part that happens to both of us—it would be our life.”

“Who’s taking off work for maternity leave?”

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