Page 178 of Not Another Yesterday
“Every single one.”
“Shame,” I say, grinning.
“Oh yeah. Just awful,” he deadpans.
I laugh out loud but stop with the sudden jab in my stomach. My hand moves to it, like every time I feel the baby move inside me. I remember the first few flutters, like butterfly wings or perhaps like goldfish bumping against their glass bowl. But this baby’s getting stronger by the day and the little karate kicks are downright startling sometimes.
“Oh my gosh, are you trying to break out already?” I giggle.
Ronan’s brows dip with confusion.
“The baby,” I say. “It’s awake. Probably heard the entire no-underwear conversation we just had.”
Ronan chuckles. I reach for his arm, then place his hand on my belly where I just felt the jab. I’ve done it before—placed his hand on my belly whenever I’ve felt the baby move, but the flutters weren’t powerful enough for Ronan to feel anything from the outside. Still, I keep trying.
We wait in the silence of the car.
Jab. My eyes snap to Ronan’s. Instantly, I can tell he felt it. His eyes are wide, locked on mine, jaw dropping.
I grin widely. “Did you feel it?”
He nods, awestruck. “Yeah,” he breathes.
Right on cue, another kick exactly where Ronan’s warm hand rests against my stomach. Like the baby is saying “hi.”
Ronan’s hand stays firmly on my tummy while his eyes close. He lowers his head, focusing. The baby gives one more little one-two punch, leaving me teary-eyed at the emotion in Ronan’s eyes when he opens them.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “That’s our baby?”
I nod.
“God, baby… you’re incredible.”
I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Let’s go home.”
Thursday,August 24th
Ronan
Eleven days. That’s how long it’s been since Cat started staying here full time. Technically it’s supposed to be temporary—just until things cool off with her dad, just until we figure out what to do once the baby comes. But the longer she’s here, the more often I wake to the sound of her humming while she brushes her teeth, the more often I fall asleep with her stealing my pillow to wedge between her legs and even out her hips, the more Iwantthis. Us. Together. In this apartment. With my best friend and my best friend’s girl.
It’s cramped as hell—two bedrooms, four people, one tiny-ass bathroom and an even smaller kitchen—but I wouldn’t change a thing. I love knowing who and what I come home to. There’s no guessing, no analyzing anyone’s mood beside Cat’s current pregnancy craving.
Cat has appointed herself the designated grocery shopper, relieving a grateful Shane and guaranteeing her most random craving can be satisfied anytime. Shane, on the other hand, has prohibited Cat from doing any laundry; he thinks she shouldn’t have to schlepp an overfull basket down four flights of stairs, then stoop and bend in front of washers and dryers. Tori keeps slipping Cat little self-care things—fancy lotions, herbal teas, some noisy pillow filled with clay beads that gets warmed up in the microwave. So basically, Tori and Shane have appointed themselves Cat’s backup support team while I’m at work, and even if I haven’t said it out loud yet, I’m so fucking grateful. We don’t have everything figured out, not by a long shot. But I look around this cramped, noisy apartment and all I can think is: we’re going to be okay.
And thank god summer classes are finally over. I took my last final yesterday and now I get a whole week without lectures, quizzes, or cramming during my ten-minute breaks at work. Sleep, here I fucking come. I swear, if I could crawl into a dark cave and hibernate for seven days straight, I would.
“Hey, sweet boy,” Cat calls softly from the living room when I finally come through the door tonight. It’s past two-thirty in the morning. I’m surprised she’s still awake.
I drop my keys on the entryway table and make my way over to her. “Hey, baby.” I press a kiss to her forehead. She’s curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
“Why are you still up?” I lift her legs to sit down before laying them back across my lap.
“I can’t sleep,” she says, voice gravelly. “My back hurts.”
“Want me to give you a back rub?”
She smiles at me gratefully, then shifts upright, turning her back to me. I start to knead gently, working my thumbs in slow circles.
