Page 95 of Unexpecting

J.B. ran his nails over the expanse. “What was that?” he asked suddenly. “Did they move?”

″That was me. I’m hungry,” I confessed.

He laughed, and now both of his hands were running over my belly again. “It’s so amazing. Big.” Our eyes met, and I couldn’t help but think again how glad I was that he was here to go through this with me. It wouldn’t be the same if I had gone with the anonymous donor. I couldn’t wait until my babies could know their father, and I was happy their father is J.B.

And right now I’d be happy to know J.B., if you know what I mean. I took a deep breath and boldly took J.B.’s hands and moved them onto my breasts.

There was a sudden silence in the room. J.B. just stared at my chest. “These have changed too,” he finally commented.

″Apparently they do,” I joked. I joked because I was practically orgasmic just from J.B.’s hands on my breasts, and if I didn’t make a joke about it, I was afraid I might just eat him alive right then. “I didn’t know if you wanted to check them out too.”

″Mm hmm,” was all he said. One of his thumbs brushed against my nipple, and I closed my eyes and tried not to groan aloud.

But then, just as I was leaning closer, with my eyes half-closed, readying my lips for what I was sure would be a gentle, yet hungry, kiss, J.B. did the unthinkable.

He moved his hands.

Moved them right off my breasts, right off my body, and held them nervously at his sides.

″It’s probably not a good idea,” he told me.

″Why not?” I demanded. Do not beg, Casey, I ordered myself. Do not beg.

″Well, because, you know… that’s what got us in this mess in the first place.” I knew he was trying to joke, but at the moment, I didn’t think it was at all funny. J.B. took a step back from me as if just having a penis in the vicinity of my uterus would crowd the babies or something.

″You don’t want to. I get it.” I stiffly pulled my shirt down to cover everything. “That’s fine.”

″Casey, it’s not that I don’t want to.” J.B. grabbed my arm as I turned to leave.

″I get it. I’m the size of a baby humpback whale, and it would disgust you to see any more of my nakedness. I get it.”

″That’s not it. I think you’re beautiful when you’re pregnant. It’s just…”

″Whatever.” I snatched my arm out of his grasp because the heat from his hand was making me feel like I was about to explode. It was like I was back in high school and had a severe crush on my science lab partner, and I’d just told him how I felt and he didn’t return the emotion. I was humiliated and embarrassed—and my feelings were hurt. Not good emotions when you’re almost seven months pregnant.

Without another word, I stormed out of J.B.’s room and down the stairs.

″What did he do now?” Cooper called from the kitchen.

″Should have got a sperm donor,” I muttered mutinously on my way downstairs to pull out Morgan’s gift that she gave me for my birthday a few years ago. I hoped I had enough batteries.

Chapter Forty-Two

“Anticipation over the arrival of a child is often contagious to even the most stalwart of cynics.”

A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood

Dr. Francine Pascal Reid (1941)

Time actually flies whenyou’re expecting, and I was amazed to wake up one morning and realize I was twenty-six weeks pregnant.

I was twenty-six weeks pregnant, and I had turned thirty-six last week. My birthday was a bit of a nonevent, but I didn’t really mind. Brit and Morgan took me out, but since I couldn’t drink and I got tired by about nine thirty these days, it wasn’t much of a celebration. Cooper and Emma and J.B. did a nice dinner for me on the Sunday night, but I threw most of it up and couldn’t even stand to touch the cake, so that wasn’t much fun either. But I got some really nice things for the baby, and J.B. went out and bought me a ton of maternity clothes because I complained once or twice about being bored with what I had to wear. Turning thirty-six wasn’t as traumatic as I fully expected it to be, probably because I was pregnant. If I weren’t pregnant, I most likely would have drowned my sorrows in whatever alcohol was readily available and hooked up with a totally unsuitable stranger. With that as the other option, I much prefer this way to celebrate me being born. Plus, me turning thirty-six and being pregnant was sort of like flipping Dr. Francine Pascal Reid the bird.

I looked pregnant now. I looked really pregnant, but considering there were three of the little darlings in there jumping around, I was just theright size according to Dr. Morrissey, whom I still haven’t developed much of a fondness for. She kept reminding me that pregnancy wasn’t an excuse to snack, which I found ironic since I was still throwing up all too often. The pills the doctor prescribed made the vomiting stop, but also left me tired and bitchy—not a good combination for a kindergarten teacher. It had been over six months, and I had learned to live with the nausea. I kept telling myself it wouldn’t last forever. Luckily, I had discovered an array of foods that didn’t cause me to throw up everything, but unfortunately, most of them involved high levels of carbohydrates.

A couple of weeks after my birthday, two things happened. One, I slipped and fell on some ice outside the store, which led to a nasty bruise on my hip; and two, I had my first Braxton Hicks contraction.

Of course, I freaked out at the false labour the first time it happened, which unfortunately was in the middle of library period with my kindergarten class. Luckily, the librarian has had four children and was very helpful in explaining that I was not in labour before I could call 911.

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