by BJ Harvey
His chocolate eyes turn gooey. “You’re pretty amazing too, you know.” And there goes those fluttering butterflies in my stomach again. Just please don’t be my nausea coming back again.
“It’s not like we’ve just met. I’ve known this about you for a while now.”
“Seeing me for sex once or twice a week isn’t every day though. Maybe I’m terrible as a partner.”
“Ez, you’re a good guy, a great guy, and there’s a lot I can’t wait to learn about you.”
“We’ve been together more since finding out about the baby. But I don’t want you to feel I’m infringing on your space, your life…”
“You’re not. In fact, I’m thinking I’ve been missing out. You cook, you apologize with cookies and cranberry juice—you even hold my hair back when I have to run to the toilet and bring up the food you make me.”
He leans in and looks around conspiratorially. “Don’t forget the promise of good sex,” he says with a wink.
“Are you making that promise? Because stick me with a fork, I’m done. Let’s say screw the date, and go back and—”
He shakes his head, his low chuckle just as sexy as all his other attributes. Reaching over the table, he covers my hand with his and meets my eyes. “Let’s have tonight. No home runs. I won’t even try for second base.”
My mouth drops open.
He shoots me a knowing grin. “Tonight, we’re two adults going out for our first date. This may seem backward, but I don’t want to rush this and screw it up. We’ve gone from having a purely physical relationship with absolutely no strings, no responsibilities, and no expectations to having strings I want to strengthen, a huge responsibility we’re going to share forever, and no set expectations past being co-parents to our child.” He squeezes my hand. “I want this to work between us, probably more than anything I’ve ever done before in my life, and that may seem strange considering I’ve been married twice before, and both of those ended in divorce. But I’m working on learning from those mistakes and focusing on making sure I don’t repeat them.”
“How have you been right under my nose the whole time, and I didn’t even realize you had this side to you?” I ask, being completely honest.
He gives me a one-sided shrug and a sexy smirk. “Couldn’t give everything away.”
“Oh, you should’ve. I would’ve gotten accidentally knocked up a long time ago.” I try so hard to keep a straight face, but at the first twitch of Ezra’s lips, I lose it, and so does he.
“You’re not the only one who’s been holding back. I mean, who would’ve thought you could almost beat me at shuffleboard, purely fueled by your determination to pay for our dinner?”
“I’m a firm believer in equality.”
“And I like it, I do, but even if you had won, I still would’ve paid for dinner.” Ezra’s big grin is contagious, and I find it impossible not to smile back at him.
I bring his hand to my mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
“Hey,” he says with fake annoyance. “You’re stealing my moves now.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ll claim them back. I know you well enough by now.”
“Oh you do, do you?”
“Yep. Just like I know if I bat my lashes and give you these big blue puppy-dog eyes, you might forgive me if I say I’m really craving a Popeye’s chicken sandwich.” I do exactly what I say while smoothing my palm over his arm, loving the way his gaze darkens.
He lifts a single brow, his lips twitching with amusement. “Our baby seems to have very particular tastes at the moment. Should I expect this for the rest of your pregnancy?”
I nod, trying—and failing—to look even a little bit sorry for the guy. “It’s okay, Ez. I promise I’ll let you take me and our demanding unborn child out for pasta for another date. Now, though…”
Ez grins, standing from his chair and holding out his hand for me. “What my baby wants, my baby gets.”
“Aww, so cute,” a waitress says, obviously hearing him as she walks past.
My eyes bug out, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from busting out a laugh. Ezra’s gaze is warm, never leaving me once as I tangle my fingers with his and wrap my arm around his waist.
Once we’ve retrieved our coats and put them back on, we’re walking out the door, and my stomach is grumbling in anticipation.
“So, I get another date?”
I look up at him and frown. “Well, yeah. You owe us pasta. I’ve also heard the Spirelli’s tiramisu is amazing but since I’m all pregnant and stuff…” I gesture to my non-existent baby bump, “…I guess I’ll just have to settle for all the pasta we can eat.”
“I like that.”
“The second date idea or the endless pasta concept?”
We reach his car, and despite it being cold as balls outside, I’m not complaining when Ez draws in close and presses my back to the passenger door. “Both,” he says quietly, his warm gaze leaving a trail of heat as it roams my face.
I melt into him, and he lowers his mouth to mine, giving me a slow, languid, extremely thorough kiss, leaving me with nothing to do but grab his arms and hold on for dear life. Again, it’s not a hardship when Ezra Baker is pretty much perfection. The only thing that would make it better would be my Popeye’s chicken sandwich and then being taken home to bed.
Unfortunately for me, I get my dinner, but I don’t get the sex.
Even then, it was still the best date I’ve ever had.
Gilly
“My name is Gilly Nelson, and it has been six weeks since I have had sex.”
Ronnie’s eyes bug out of her head, as does the rest of the women gathered in Faith and Bry’s big living room: Abi, April, Faith, Ronnie, and Marcy Cook. Skye got called in to cover an EMT shift and had to cancel.
Since the guys were going to the virtual driving range for their two-weekly golf ritual, and given my sister and Faith are both heavily pregnant, a night of wine—for those who can indulge—good food and girl talk was suggested. Abi, Marcy, and April were dropped off by Jamie and Cade, which means they’re a few bottles in. Ezra insisted on driving me, and as I’ve come to learn about the man, he’s rather protective of me and our precious cargo. Maybe too much so.
But I love it. Every time he comes over just to be with me or help me out after work when my energy levels are low, I envision a life I’ve always wanted with a partner who sees me as his equal, someone who is as protective as he is kind and warm, and who—usually—can’t keep his hands off me.
“Wait. I’m so confused,” Ronnie says. “I thought Ezra would be all up in your pregnant lady vagina business. I mean, it’s not like he can knock you up twice. You’ve had two dates. Surely if you’ve already bumped uglies, the third date rule doesn’t apply.”
I nod in agreement. We went to Spirelli’s just a few days ago to make up for not making it there for our date, and he stayed the night at least, but he was still hands-off when it came to my genitals. It’s like unwrapping your favorite bar of chocolate and having it right there, ready to go in your mouth—so to speak—and not being able to devour it.
“There was actually a case I read about where a woman was pregnant and then got pregnant again four weeks later. It turns out she had two separate uteruses,” Faith explains.
I instinctively clench my thighs together and wince.
“Carrying two isn’t too bad,” Marcy says. “Except you’re high risk from the day you find out, and you end up the size of a house because you can’t stop eating.”
Abi shakes her head. “That’s because you were carrying Jax and Bry, Mom, and it can’t have been that bad if you still went back and had Cohen and me after them.”
Marcy grabs a bottle of wine and pours herself another glass. “That’s because your father refused to buy a television for the bedroom, so we had to pass the time in other ways.”
Abi screws her face up. “La la la la la, Mom. Don’t really want to hear about my parents getting down and dirty. Thanks anyway.”
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Marcy rolls her eyes. “It’s just sex, Abi-Jane. I’m surprised you, of all people, would be so prudish.”
Abi’s mouth drops open. “I am not a prude!”
“Seems like it,” Marcy murmurs with a smirk, earning a scowl from her daughter.
“Let’s get back to Gilly and her neglected lady parts,” April says. “Has he said anything about it to you? I thought things were good?”
I shake my head. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s been great. He is great. We still see each other as much as we did before I got pregnant, but even when I stripped naked in front of him, he didn’t take the bait. He does my laundry, cooks me dinner, and even gives me foot rubs. But that’s it. After our first date, he kissed me goodnight, waited until I was inside and locked in, then went home. And believe me, I know he was not unaffected.” I look to Mrs. Cook. “Sorry for the TMI.”
“Oh pfft. Have you met my sons? They’re far from virgins.”
That earns a giggle around the group.
“Before he even asked me out on a date, we were getting hot and heavy on the couch, and he literally jumped off me, muttered something about needing to get milk, and then disappeared for an hour. He didn’t even bring milk with him when he came back either.”
“What did he come back with?” Marcy asks, leaning forward in her seat.
A wave of gushy warmth washes over me. “A baby onesie.”
“Aww,” they all say in chorus.
Abi, Ronnie, April, and Faith all share a look—one that I don’t get.
“What? What do you know that I don’t?” I ask, looking around the room. “Has he said something to the guys? Does he not want me anymore? Is it a first-base-only zone now since I’m up the duff? What is it? I get wanting to date, I like that. But it’s not like we haven’t had sex before,” I half-shriek, half-cry.
Ronnie looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Who are you and where is my ball-busting big sister?”
“She’s pregnant, tired and her hormones are turning her into a ‘change her mood as quick as the wind changes’ crazy lady. Give her a break. She’s basically us in the first trimester, except you, Ronnie—you were like a cat on heat,” Faith says, giving me a soft, understanding look.
Ronnie grins at her. “Bry said something similar about you.”
“I’m broken because Ezra scored a goal and gave me a baby as the prize,” I whine. “I used to be able to fight with the best of them, and now I either cry or moan or stuff my face with pasta. And believe me… I thought there was a limit to the amount of carbs I could eat but noooo. There is never a time when I’m full. I only stop because I’ve told Ez to only get me small portions, and I usually end up eating what’s left on his plate too.” I’m so sad because I’m a woman whose ass and boobs are fueled by carbs. This means my boobs are big, and my ass is even bigger.
Since I’m already the head conductor of the pity train, I keep going. “I’m not even at that ‘looking pregnant’ stage, so even if I’m eating gnocchi in my office while going through discovery documents, all everyone sees is me shoveling Italian goodness in my mouth and probably think I’m a pig or something.”
Everyone in the room has either had a baby or are currently nearing birth, so when I stop moaning, I’m met with sympathetic looks all-round.
Abi tilts her head. “I think you’re my new favorite.” She flicks her thumb beside her. “Faith here has had the picture-perfect pregnancy so far. No crying jags or crazy cravings. She hasn’t once had Bry shaking in fear and cowered in a corner. She’s just an organic food Nazi with a perfectly shaped basketball belly.”
“Whereas I’m the size of a whale, I’m swollen everywhere, none of my shoes fit so I’m wearing Jax’s Ugg boots, and I don’t even leave my house to go to the office anymore because I waddle worse than the penguins at Lincoln Park Zoo,” Ronnie says, but she does it with a smile on her face. “Lucky for me, still-hot Ken likes all the extra junk in my trunk, and he’s not afraid of knocking the baby in the head with his dick.”
Unfortunately, I’d just taken a sip of my drink when my sister said that, and like Buckingham Fountain, water explodes out of my nose and mouth just like in the opening sequence to Married With Children all over Faith’s brand-new woolen rug.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, Faith.”
The room is dead quiet for a beat, then everyone bursts out laughing.
“Wait…” I say, Ronnie’s words sinking in. “You don’t think Ez is scared of hurting the baby, do you? I mean, we’re not exactly hang-from-the-chandelier types, but we’re not exactly the ten-minute-missionary-in-a-bed people either.”
“Eww,” Faith says, her expression like she’s just sucked a lemon. She turns to Abi. “I see what you mean now about TMI.”
“You just need to tell him what you need. Sometimes these boys have to be told exactly what you want them to do—” April says.
“And how,” Faith says. “Bry pulled our OB to one side to ask if there was anything we couldn’t do.”
Marcy beams, a vision of a proud mama. “Such a good boy, that one.”
Abi rolls her eyes. “Mom, he just wanted to get laid.”
“Of course he did. My boys have chosen their women well.”
Abi sighs. “I chose well too.”
“Yep. Cade is perfect for you.”
“I bet he didn’t hesitate in getting in there when you were carrying his baby,” I mutter.
Abi grins over at me. “Granted, he is a doctor, but you’re right, he jumped me then and there at the hospital.”
My mouth gapes. I’m both shocked and intrigued, and I also really wanna know details of that little story.
“Marcy’s right, Gilly-Bear,” Ronnie says. “Our guys would wrap us up in cotton wool then drive us in an armored car if they could. They’re not usually cavemen, but when they plant a baby in us, they turn into one.”
“Even Jamie is a bit gung-ho when it comes to Ax and me.” April nudges me with her shoulder. “I love that you’re making Ezra’s life interesting. From what I heard, his ex-wives were bitches who saw a good man with a big heart and sucked it dry.”
My chest tightens. “I hate that for him.”
Faith smiles. “It’s no secret my brother falls fast and easy, but that doesn’t mean he’s not one hundred percent invested in the person he falls for.”
“We’re not like that. It was purely—” I turn to Marcy, who doesn’t seem to mind this conversation one bit. She’s so completely different to my own uptight mother. It’s refreshing.
“So, you’re saying he’s impulsive?” I ask, changing direction.
Faith shakes her head. “He’s a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. But he’s determined, too. If he sets his mind to something, he works his ass off to make it happen.”
April nods. “It seems to be a thing with these men of ours.”
“Okay. So how do we get Gilly and Ezra back to a place where my sister’s getting the good stuff on the regular?” Ronnie asks, getting back to the matter at hand.
“I’m thinking you meet him at the door on your knees,” Abi offers, with a smirk. “Works every time.”
“Lie on the couch naked and ask him to paint you like one of his French girls,” Marcy says with a laugh, and I snicker along with her.
April studies me, a knowing look in her eye. “I know exactly what you should do.”
“Okay…”
“Give him what he wants,” she says.
My head jerks back, and I stare at her.
April’s eyes soften. “Jamie has told me Ez is a chronic over-thinker. He just does it after the fact.”
“Hence the two failed marriages,” I add and everyone in the room nods.
April continues, “You guys are dating now, so just date. If he’s living in the moment, then live in it with him. Don’t worry about the what-ifs and maybes. Focus on the right nows and definitelys.”
“What’s stopping you, Gilly? What’s holding you back?” Abi asks.
“Did you go into it as you would a normal romantic relationship?” Abi asks. “Because Cade and I were a one-night stand. I didn’t get a second night till ten months later.”
My mouth drops open at that and she grins at me.
“So, you and Ez didn’t start off with any plans to date. That’s not to say you can’t give it a good go now, right?” Abi asks.
Faith nods. “Take it from three of us who have known Ez for most of our lives. Whatever happens, it won’t stop him from being there for his child if things don’t work.”
And there’s the proof that Ezra Baker is a genuine good guy.
“At least you’re not at the stage when you can’t do your favorite things. This giant Buddha belly of mine may well be the death of me by the time I give birth,” Ronnie says, changing the subject, as she’s prone to do.
“That’s something to look forward to,” Faith replies dryly. “Mine is already getting in the way.”
“You guys aren’t filling me with confidence here,” I say, sounding a lot less scared than I’m really feeling.
“You’re what—thirteen weeks? You’ve just hit the fun trimester.”
“Not as much fun as I’d like to be having,” I mutter.
Abi bounces up and down in her chair, holding her wine glass out in the air. “I know. If all else fails, tell him part of his baby daddy duties is to meet your orgasm needs. Say it reduces stress and that it’s good for the baby.”
I point her way. “Now that could be the best suggestion yet. I’m not usually this sex-crazed, I swear. It’s these damn—”
“Hormones,” we all say in unison, huge grins on our faces.
“It’s gonna happen. I’m feeling good sex vibes,” Ronnie says, a twinkle in her eye and her phone in hand.
“I thought cock-blocking was the Cook family tradition, not pimping.”
“It is. But the Nelson tradition—well, this former Nelson, anyway—is to get her sister laid.”
