Page 41 of Abstract Passion

I might diefrom this incessant heat.

Far back as I remember, I have loved living the Florida life. Sunshine year round. Blue skies with the occasional fluffy cloud or two. Countless outdoor activities. Theme parks and festivals and concerts. The beach, the sand, the warmth.

But right now, in this paralyzing summer weather, my ankles are swollen. My fingers look more like small sausages than tools to write and eat and function. Sweat slicks my skin in the most awkward places. My clothes are itchy and tight and annoying. And this new ache formed in my lower back.

I am not okay with this. Not at all.

With each passing month, my body changes more and more. I get it. Really, I do. I am cooking a human.

Some of the changes aren’t so bad. Nausea—gone. Me and all the cheeses are good friends again. Hallelujah. Body swelling… unacceptable. Wasting money on maternity clothes… unacceptable. Instead, I wear Devlyn’s T-shirts and loose shorts or lounge pants. Hell, I will wear a robe all day if need be. Back pain… also unacceptable.

Dr. Webster recommended pregnancy massage for the back pain. I jumped on that bandwagon immediately. She also said the swelling is perfectly normal, especially in the hotter months. She recommended less salt in my diet, more water, walking daily, and the usual rest and relaxation with my feet elevated.

I feel like an elephant. Maybe a hippo. No offense to the elephant or hippo population. But if I swell anymore, I will undoubtedly resemble Violet Beauregarde fromWilly Wonka and the Chocolate Factoryafter she blows up—minus purple skin, of course.

“Why don’t you relax while I start dinner,” Devlyn suggests as we come in from a stroll around the neighborhood.

Tonight, Devlyn’s dad is coming over for dinner. When Devlyn ran the idea past me weeks ago, my blood pressure spiked. So, he pushed it off. Told his father we needed more time.

In the last month, Devlyn has spoken with his dad at least three times a week. Gotten to know the man James really is versus the man he thought he knew. During those conversations, Devlyn found a new level of comfort with his father. A bond they should have had years ago. And when his father agreed two weeks ago to have joint therapy sessions with Devlyn, some of my own worry eased.

I want our baby to be surrounded by as much love as possible. Having at least one person from Devlyn’s family present would be wonderful. Devlyn deserves love too. A love he wanted for years, but didn’t realize how much he’d been deprived of until recently.

“I’d like to help,” I say, toeing off my shoes.

We wander to the kitchen and Devlyn starts pulling food from the cabinets and fridge. I lean my hip against the counter and watch as he moves around the kitchen.

“Kick your feet up for a few. I’ll do the tedious stuff, then come get you for the rest. Deal?”

I huff under my breath.Really hate feeling like a useless child.Not overexerting myself is good for me and the baby, deep down I know this. But when I am used to doing it all, sitting on my butt while others wait on me, hand and foot, makes me feel like a nuisance. Like I don’t contribute in any way.

That stings the most.

Sticking out my pinkie, I wait for Devlyn to hook his with mine. Two steps in my direction, he latches our pinkies as his lips kick up in a half smile. “Promise.”

Making my way to the living room, I plop down on the couch and scroll through the shows. I land onThe Vampire Diariesand hit play. It’s been a while since I binged this show.

Halfway through the episode, Devlyn wanders into the living room and parks next to me on the couch. He lays his head on my shoulder and stares at the screen. Minutes of the show carry on, neither of us speaking. And it is moments like this that calm every woe. Moments like this that make all the craziness—family and pregnancy and our fast-paced relationship—worthwhile.

For years, I wanted this. Someone to love me without effort. Someone that connected with me on an unprecedented level. Someone that will stick with me through the good and not so good.

The start of our love story may be muddled with indecision and chaos, but I wouldn’t change it or us. Devlyn wouldn’t be who he is today without his past, and neither would I. Our love wouldn’t be what it is without it either.

“Ready to cook?” he whispers when the episode ends.

“Yes.”

As if we have done it years, Devlyn and I move around the kitchen with ease as we prepare dinner. Minutes before the timer goes off for the oven, the doorbell chimes.

Here we go.

Devlyn sets the spoon on the rest. With his hand on my lower back, he kisses my temple. “Be right back.”

“’Kay,” I breathe out.

He pads off to answer the door and I stir the couscous with more gusto than necessary. Sweat dampens my skin as I hear the dead bolt disengage and the door open before mumbled hellos filter in.

This is it.I take a deep breath and check on the chicken in the oven.Devlyn’s father isnothis mother. This dinner will end in smiles.

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