Page 54 of Nave
When we got back to the SUV, Nave reached into his pocket, removing the picture. My stomach twisted, thinking he might just toss it on the floor or in the door compartment. But he pulled down the visor and carefully clipped it under the mirror.
“Don’t wanna wrinkle it,” he explained.
My heart felt like it expanded to twice its size in my chest.
I won’t lie to myself and try to pretend that there hadn’t been many moments over the past few weeks when Nave would look at me a certain way, or he would throw his head back and laugh—sending shivers down my spine—or when he would reach for me, hold me, even playfully nudge me, when I would get, you know, some less-than-appropriate thoughts.
And that wasn’t even bringing up how many sweaty dreams I’d been dealing with. Because I’d been napping more, he’d been invading my dreams with sexy fantasies at least twice a day.
But it had all been sweet, superficial attraction. Hormones, even. My reptilian brain looking for a mate.
In the doctor’s office, as he protected me from my own irrational fears, and then as he shared in the miracle of a heartbeat with me, something had shifted.
It wasn’t as simple as my body desperately wanting to feel good after so many years of being denied the privilege.
It was more, deeper.
And, sure, maybe I was just projecting that onto him because he was sharing in some monumental moments in my life.
But I could have sworn there was something in his eyes when the doctor handed him his picture of the sonogram that said he was having similar feelings.
“So, milkshake?” he asked as he reversed out of his parking spot.
“God, yes.”
“Was it that bad?” he asked, shooting me a horrified look. “I’ve seen those… pussy opener things.”
It was so absurd, so unexpected, that a laugh bubbled up and burst out of me. The sound had his eyes warming and his own lips twitching.
“Known to everyone else as aspeculum,” I said, shaking my head at him.
“I mean, I’m not wrong, though, am I?” he shot back.
“You’re not wrong. And, no. It’s not that bad. It’s uncomfortable and really, really, ridiculously awkward. But I imagine I will have to learn to get used to a lot of awkwardness moving forward. There’s nothing… demure about the whole delivery process. I’ve been reading those books you dropped off for me. And…” I shot him a grimace.
“Lots to look forward to, huh?” he asked.
“And only about eighty percent of it is wildly horrifying.”
“But just think, there will be a baby at the end of it all.”
“Which is possibly the only reason women still consent to reproducing. I think the baby and the feel-good hormones after delivery make you kind of forget all the bad stuff.”
“Memory-erasing baby hormones. Something to look forward to. Alright. What do you think, milkshakes and the park? It’s nice out today.”
“That sounds great. No cameras,” I added, hating that I had to think about that everywhere I went. I couldn’t even take off my sunglasses or hat in remote, camera-free areas. Because everyone had a camera in their pockets. Everyone was filming in public now. It wasn’t worth the risk.
I knew Nave seemed sure that there would come a time when I wouldn’t have to worry about Ben anymore. To me, though, that future was hard to imagine or believe in.
We got our milkshakes (chocolate for me, peanut butter for him) and drove out to Nave’s favorite park. It featured play areas for kids, a walking path near a lake, a historical farm where you could walk around and look at all the animals, and long, winding paths through the woods.
“Want to do a short one?” Nave asked, milkshakes long gone, farm animals fawned over, and the loop already traversed. “Or are the woods not a good place?”
“It’s different now,” I admitted, adding silently:With you.
“Any point it starts to freak you out, I can piggyback you right outta there.”
He meant that, too.
