Page 70 of Storm

I send him a quick text.

Me: Turn around, fucker. You’re not going to stalk her while I’m here.

Ezra: I just want to see her.

Me: Not tonight. I’ll ask her to take a picture with me and I’ll send it to you. Turn around, Ez.

It takes a few minutes, but I watch the dot leave the highway and turn to head back home. My phone dings again with a single, “Fine.” Laughing, I scroll through my apps and play a game until Miriam is ready to leave. I’m so invested I didn’t hear her come out of her room until she settles on the couch next to me.

Leaning into me, she looks at my screen, then points at it. “You can swap those two and it’ll get you two lines at once.”

Grinning, I make the move and turn to her. “You play this too?”

“When I can’t sleep. I’m ready to go if you are, unless you want to finish your round,” she teases.

“Nope.” I shut my phone off and pull her up with me. “Ready for our desserts onlydate?”

Her stomach rumbles and we both look at the baby bump. “Apparently, we’re both ready.” She lifts her head and grins, but I can’t draw away my eyes immediately.

“Can I touch?”

My question immediately changes the relaxed mood, ramping it up a notch, edging into intimacy. “Uhh, yeah, okay. If you’d like.”

She’s dressed in leggings and a sweater since it’s still cool outside. Grabbing the hem, I lift the bottom slightly and place my hand on the side and stretch out my fingers.

“It’s both hard and soft,” I say reverently. Placing my other hand above her bump where it just starts curving out, I can’t help smiling. “I’m sure this is a weird question, but what does it feel like?”

“You touching me or being pregnant?”

Huffing out a laugh, I draw my hands away and lower her sweater. She swallows and helps adjust her clothes. “Well, I meant being pregnant, but now I want to know the answer to both.”

We leave her apartment as she answers. “Being pregnant is kind of hard to explain. Full. That’s probably the best way to describe it. Like after you’ve finished eating a huge meal and you’re tired from eating too much and you just want to sit in a chair and rub the ache away. When the baby moves, it kind of feels like little bubbles popping in your stomach at first, but now that he’s gotten bigger, it’s more exaggerated.”

“He?”

She shrugs. “I’m just going with it until I find out otherwise. Ezra got me thinkingheand I just sort of started referring to the baby like that in my head.”

With a laugh and Ezra’s surety that her baby is a boy from old wives’ tales, I open the door to my car so Miriam can slip inside. She’s chewing on her lip, so I prod, “What are you thinking about?”

“How to answer the other part. I haven’t had anyone touch my stomach besides me and the doctor. I’m trying to figure out what it feels like.”

Nodding, I drive us toward downtown. I plotted out the places that had good reviews for their desserts, so we’re going to start off at the one that’s furthest away. She opens her mouth a few times, but says nothing, so I let her process.

Finally, she seems to have an idea of what to say. “It feels… good? In an odd, self-conscious sort of way because it makes mevery aware that my stomach isnotflat.” She looks at my hands. “Your hands are warm.” Then she looks to her stomach. “My stomach always feels chilled, I think because it’s just sticking out now.”

She gives me a sheepish look and shrugs again.

“Well, anytime that baby needs some warming up, you let me know. I’ve got you covered.”

Snorting out a laugh, she assures me she’ll let me know. We chat about nothing important for the last ten minutes until I park in front of an Italian restaurant.

“Oooh, I’ve never been here before,” she tells me, looking out the windshield at the sign.

I turn off the car and nod to the building. “I read that they have fantastic cannolis here, but they also have a few gelato flavors. We can order a few different things to try if you’d like.”

Rubbing her hands together, she grows excited. “I’m definitely down with this desserts idea.”

Once we’re settled inside and an order put in for a cannoli, three gelato flavors, and a tiramisu the waitress recommended, I ask, “How’s work been going for you? Aside from the shitty news you got today.”

---