Page 62 of Consummation

“Look it up for yourself, Anaconda-boy. Literally impossible.”

“When did you look that up?”

“A couple days ago.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “You’re huge—I was worried about the wee little baaaybaaay.”

“Aw. Check out the momma-Kumquat looking out for the baby-kumquat. That was a very motherly thing for you to do. Well, I assume it was motherly. I haven’t seen an actual mother in the wild any more than I’ve seen an actual wife. But Ithinkyou’re having what the anthropologists call ‘maternal instincts.’”

The look on Kat’s face is utterly adorable. It’s the same look I’d expect from her if I’d just asked her to go steady.

“So, hey, hot momma,” I say, pulling her close. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” Kat says.

“Room service or dine out?”

“Room service.”

“Burgers and fries or five-star?”

“Burgers and fries,” Kat says. “And milkshakes. Oh, and will you see if they have split pea soup? I have a weird craving for split pea soup—oh, and cantaloupe—or any kind of melon, really, except honeydew—oh, and maybe some blueberry yogurt?”

“Wow, I guess that whole pregnancy-cravings thing is real, huh?”

Kat pats her belly. “The kumquat wants what the kumquat wants. I guess the little guy (or gal) burned lots of calories dodging that big ol’ anaconda who’s been trying to scratch his back all night long.”

“Well, then, by all means, let’s feed the kumquat—not to mention get it a therapist. Lemme up, babe. I’ll make the call.” I pat her thigh and she hops off my lap. I stride across the room and pick up the hotel phone. “Room service, please.”

“Yes, sir. One moment, please.”

While I’m waiting for the call to connect, Kat grabs her purse and pulls out a package of crackers.

“You feeling sick?” I ask, still holding the phone to my ear.

Kat nods. “It mostly hits me these days when I’m hungry. Ortired. And late at night, too—and early morning. Oh, and in the car.” She rolls her eyes. “It still hits me a lot, I guess.”

I make a sad face.

“Thank you for waiting,” a male voice says into my ear. “What would you like to order, Mr. Faraday?”

I place our ridiculously bizarre order. “How long will it take?” I ask. “I’ve got a pregnant woman here who needs to eat right away.”

“About forty-five minutes.”

“They say about forty-five minutes, hot momma,” I say to Kat. “Are you gonna be okay for that long?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” Kat says, holding up her Saltines. “I’ll just go lie down until the food arrives.”

“Yeah, go rest, Party Girl. I’ll let you know when the food is here.”

She disappears into the bedroom.

“Okay, let me make sure I’ve got your order right, Mr. Faraday...” the voice on the phone says.

But I’m not listening. I can’t concentrate. Kat only left me to go into the next room and my heart’s suddenly yearning for her like she’s a thousand miles away.

---