Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“So,” Mike says, taking my hands.
“So.”
“I’ve got a question for you.”
The heat in his eyes, it makes me almost woozy. “Anything.”
He lifts an eyebrow a little. = He knows I mean that. For two weeks, he’s taken me every which way. Rough, soft. Kind. Brutal. Hungry, sleepy, demanding, dark, light. Anything he wants is his. Always and forever. Because I belong to him. And he belongs to me. It’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Standing on the front porch, he smiles down at me.
And then lowers himself in front of me. On one knee.
Oh. My. God.
From his pocket, he takes a black velvet box. He pops it open and reveals a diamond that looks to me about as big as an ice cube. “Marry me, Jess. Please.”
Something about him, my big burly strong Mike, saying the word please…. It just absolutely melts me. I am so surprised, so bowled over, that I can’t even find the words. This feels too good to be true. But too perfect to be a dream.
Mike blinks at me. Sniffs. “This is where you say something, baby girl.”
Oh my god, I haven’t answered. I get so lost in his eyes, I hardly know what I’m doing. And I hope that never changes. “Yes, of course, yes!”
“Atta girl,” he says, laughing, as he frees the gorgeous ring from its velvet cradle. He slips it on my finger and it catches the light like a disco ball.
“Yes,” I say again. “A thousand times yes.”
He stays kneeling and holds me in his arms, pressing his ear to my belly, holding me close. “I love you. And I’m never letting you go.”
I wrap my arms around him in return, gently caressing the short hair at the nape of his neck. But before I can say something beautiful in return, my stomach answers for me, rumbling out a big, ungraceful growl right against his ear.
I cringe. “Sorry!”
Mike laughs into my stomach. I can’t see his eyes, but I can see the lovely smile lines that make my heart ache with happiness. “Let’s get you something to eat, baby girl. Anything you want.”
“You’re what I want, Daddy,” I say, keeping him close. “Always.”
“You’ve got me, little one. Forever.”
Inside in the cool kitchen now. Mike opens the refrigerator, and I scan the stocked shelves. Plump blackberries, fresh peaches, this amazing French yogurt in these adorable little glass containers, olives, and these delightful little peppers stuffed with mozzarella and pepperoni.
But none of it really does it for me. I scan my mental inventory of snacks. A lot has changed in the last few weeks, and especially how free I feel to eat like a human being. “Do you have any…”
I search my body, trying to think of what it is I’m hungry for. And then it hits me. I find there’s one thing I am really, really craving. And it honestly makes no sense. “Do you have… any celery?”
Mike spins around, looking puzzled. “Have any…what?”
I look down at my stomach, feeling equally mystified. I press my now dazzlingly ringed hand to my growling tummy and look up at Mike. “I’ve never had a craving so strong for anything in my life.”
Who looks at me, blinking. I can’t really read his expression. Something between smug and happy, but I can’t imagine why. “A craving,” he says slowly. “For celery.”
I nod at him. Creamy peanut butter. Sweet raisins. And cool, crispy sticks of nutritionless fiber. “Celery. Isn’t that…weird?”
CHAPTER 11
Mike
Epilogue -40 Weeks Later
“Push, honey! Push!” hollers the doula, roaring it out like she’s screaming from the sidelines at the Super Bowl.
Jess bears down, digging her heels into the wall of the inflatable birthing pool. I’m right behind her in the warm water, and I feel her body press hard back against mine. I tighten my body to give her something to push back against. “Pushing!” she roars back.
Fuck, she’s a force of nature. But I’m so fucking nervous that I think I might pass out right here and now.
The room starts to spin, and I feel two familiar hands on my arms. On my left is Sam. And on my right, of all people, is Janet. “Woah there, big guy!” Janet says, smiling at me, all the ice in her voice from nine months ago gone now. “Breathe, Mike! Breathe!”
Now I’m doing fucking Lamaze because I don’t know what else to do. Blowing in, blowing out, I focus in on Janet to try to get my bearings. She nods at me encouragingly, doing the “hee-hee-hoo-HOO!” breath right along with me.
As I breathe in and out, in and out, the last nine months flash through my mind in still frames. Taking the pregnancy test, holding Jess in my arms. Our wedding, just a simple afternoon at city hall, followed a fantastic party, where she drank sparkling apple cider but nobody but us and the waiter knew it because it was too soon to share the news. Her baby shower, hosted by her mom. Ben and I painting the nursery. And every night, sleeping with my Jess, my wife, my universe, nestled in my arms.