Page 80 of Pregnant in Plaid
"That requires walking."
"You can walk."
"I don’t walk, I waddle. There's a difference."
"You don't waddle."
I give him a look.
"Okay, you waddle a little," he admits. "But it's cute."
"Nothing about this is cute. I'm a parade float with legs."
"You're beautiful." He stands and offers his hand. "And you're about to be a very satisfied parade float if you can make it down the hallway."
That makes me laugh again, and I take his hand.
We make it to the bedroom, which involves me waddling down the hall while he tries not to laugh. I shoot him a look.
"Not a word," I warn.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
"I was thinking you're beautiful."
"Liar."
"Okay, I was also thinking you waddle like a really cute penguin. But mostly the beautiful thing."
I swat at him, but I'm smiling. He catches my hand and pulls me into the bedroom, closing the door behind us even though we're the only ones here.
The room is dim, just the light from the bathroom spilling in. Trace turns to face me, and suddenly the humor fades. This is happening. We're really doing this.
"Hey," he says softly. "We can stop. Anytime."
"I don't want to stop." I reach for the buttons on his shirt. "I want this. I want you."
He helps me with the buttons, then pulls the shirt off entirely. I've seen him shirtless before—that night in June involved a lot of naked Trace—but somehow this feels different. More intimate. More real.
My hands shake slightly as I reach for his belt.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Nervous. Good nervous. Mostly." I fumble with the buckle. "Why are belts so complicated?"
"Here." He covers my hands with his and helps me undo it. Then he steps back slightly, completely naked. "Your turn."
Right. My turn. I'm wearing a dress that zips up the back, which seemed like a good idea this morning but now feels like a tactical error.
"The zipper's in the back," I say.
"I've got it." He moves behind me, and I feel his fingers find the zipper. He pulls it down slowly, his knuckles brushing against my spine. When the dress loosens, he helps me step out of it, and I'm suddenlystanding there in maternity underwear and a bra that's doing its best to contain breasts that have gone rogue. This is not sexy.
"God, I'm huge," I mutter.
"Stop." His hands settle on my hips from behind, and he presses a kiss to my shoulder. "You're beautiful. You're carrying our baby. Do you have any idea how incredible that is?"
