“You can really see this baby’s profile. Right there you see its nose and there are the lips.”
Dr. Walters points out various parts of our baby’s features while I lie there in awe. It’s surreal to see that it has hands and feet. Tiny fingers and toes right there on display. And then our baby confirms it is, in fact, our child.
“Look at that! Our baby just flipped us off!” Joey and I both laugh.
“I expect nothing less from a Palmer-Marshall baby,” I quip, still giggling and feeling the stress from before melt away. Seeing that alone made the long wait worth it.
“You guys interested in finding out the sex?”
Joey and I look at each other, both of us sporting a surprised expression.
“We can see it this early?” Joey asks, echoing the question in my mind.
“Sometimes. It really depends on the baby and how clear the picture is at this point. It’s worth a shot if you’re interested.”
“I… I don’t know,” I stumble through my words, my thoughts tripping me up. “What do you think?”
Joey bites his bottom lip before releasing it to answer me. “I know it’s supposed to be a fun surprise and all, but I don’t know if I can wait until the baby is born to find out, ya know?”
I nod rigorously because that’s exactly how I feel. “It would make it easier on my mom to not have to buy double and take half of it back later.”
“And we could start coming up with name ideas.”
Turning back to Dr. Walters who is still looking at the screen while he moves the wand, we give him the go-ahead.
“Let’s do it.”
The good doc smiles at me, probably as excited as we are. When your job is looking at lady bits all day, some of them less taken care of than others, I’m sure fun stuff like this is extra interesting. “Okay, let’s do it. Any guesses so far?”
Joey shakes his head, eyes clearly focused on the screen. Like he’ll be able to tell what anything is without the doctor interpreting for us.
“I don’t know that I have any gut instincts about it so far,” I say, watching just as closely as they are, without any belief I’ll figure it out on my own. “But I do find myself referring to the baby as ‘he.’ I don’t think it means anything. It’s just easier to have a pronoun to attach to it, I think.”
“That’s pretty normal.” Dr. Walters continues to move the wand, but now he’s pressing down a little harder and his eyes are squinting. “I have a lot of patients who use whatever pronoun pops in their head at the time. He or she, doesn’t matter. Depends on the day and their mood, I guess.”
“I can understand that.” I feel a very distinct flutter in my belly just as there is a jump on the screen. “Holy shit, did you see that?”
“What was that?” Joey asks, just as perplexed as I am.
“That,” Dr. Walters says with a chuckle, “is a very ornery baby already. He’s moving away from the wand.”
“Wait a minute, he’s hiding from us?” Joey questions and I immediately start laughing.
“I don’t know if he’s hiding, but he definitely doesn’t want us to see his private parts.”
I laugh harder, somehow not surprised. “So, our baby flipped us the bird, is trying to run away, and refuses to show us his gender? Oh yeah. This is definitely a Palmer-Marshall baby.”
Joey chuckles and squeezes my hand a little tighter. “We are so screwed when this kid learns how to walk.”
So screwed. And yet, in this moment, as I watch the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen on that little screen, I can’t find it in me to care.
Chapter Thirteen
JOEY
Turning my head, I look over at the clock on the dresser across the room. It’s twelve eleven. That means I have less than six hours before the damn alarm goes off. Yet I’m still lying here wide awake.
I’ve tried everything to fall asleep: watching TV, reading, I even slathered on some lavender oil a former girlfriend left in my cabinet a couple years ago.
Newsflash: it doesn’t work on me, and now I smell like I’ve been taking a bubble bath. Abel’s going to give me so much shit about it tomorrow.
Regardless of what I try, my brain just won’t shut down. It keeps going back to the appointment at Dr. Walters’ office and seeing my baby. Our baby. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, which I don’t understand because it was a black-and-white outline.
Still, I’ve never felt that kind of bond toward anyone before. Not my first girlfriend in high school, not Abel’s kids, not even my own mom.
And it’s not just the overwhelming love I feel for my unborn child. Suddenly, I want to learn how to cook without blowing up the kitchen. I want to deep clean the house to make extra sure there aren’t unnecessary germs around. I want to make enough money for the best daycares and do research on the most absorbent diapers. I want to install a small swing onto the lone tree in the back yard and call Carlos to find out what kind of baby gear he recommends.
What the hell is wrong with me?
All these thoughts are running through my head, keeping me wide awake even though my body doesn’t have any desire to move.
My door opens quietly, and I immediately sit up, knowing there’s only one person it could be.
“Rosalind? Are you okay?”
Seeing me awake, she quickly slips in and shuts the door behind her. Her long legs are bare, ass barely hidden by an oversized t-shirt that’s sliding off one shoulder. Her hair is pulled up so I can see the gracefulness of her neck. She looks beautiful in the moonlight and I can’t help wondering if this is a good time to finally kiss her again.
But no. We need to build a solid relationship. I don’t want to pressure her into anything she’s not ready for.
Gliding up to my bed, she pulls the covers back. “Move over.”
“What?” Okay, I don’t think she’s ready for anything sexual, but now I’m not so sure.
She sighs sounding as exhausted as my body feels. “My bed is uncomfortable. And my room has shitty ventilation. I am the baby mama. Move over.”
“Isn’t it the same bed you’ve been sleeping on for years? Suddenly, it’s uncomfortable?” I poke playfully. Really I don’t mind her being in here. I just can’t resist the chance to see the fire in her eyes.
“I don’t make my body hurt,” she retorts as she slides under the sheets. “I just try to accommodate whatever it wants right now.”
Admittedly, she’s not wrong. I got a preview of her mattress when I flopped down on it after moving it up two flights of stairs. It is pretty shitty. “Okay.” I move out of the middle and onto the far side of the bed as she moans her appreciation for a quality pillowtop. I may not be domestic at all, but a man knows the benefit of a good night’s sleep after a hard day at the gym. Still, I’m not positive of her intensions, and she’s been starring in my dreams for weeks now, so I need to clear something up.
“Does this mean we get to have sex now?”
Rosalind snorts a laugh and punches the pillow as she settles in. “No.”
“What? You’re moving into my bed, and I don’t get any of the benefits?” I joke back.
“You get the benefit of my presence and knowing your baby and I are both getting a good night’s rest.”
She’s got me there. At this point, their safety and well-being are my biggest priorities. I suddenly understand why Abel is such a worry wart when I babysit.
Don’t give her too much sugar, Joey.
Don’t let her stay up too late, Joey.
Don’t burn the house down trying to cook spaghetti, Joey.
One time. It was one time that I blew up the spaghetti pot.
I make a quick mental note never to make spaghetti around my child.
“Hey, Rosalind?” I clasp may hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling again.
“Hmm.”
“Are you nervous?”
She takes a deep breath, and I get the feeling she’s been up all night, wrestling with her
thoughts, too. “About which part?”
“I think… maybe, all of it?”
Rosalind rolls over, putting her hands under her cheek as she stares me dead in the eye. “I’m terrified. What if I’m not cut out for this, Joey?”
“What do you mean? I saw you with Mabel and Ainsley at Thanksgiving. They love you. You’re a natural with kids.”
“Mabel and Ainsley are easy,” she retorts. “I smile and laugh and talk to them like real people. I don’t have to keep them alive. I don’t know how to keep a baby alive.”
Shit. She’s right. “Neither do I.”
We lie there some more, lost in our own thoughts again. I’m so excited to become a dad and I’m equally as terrified, which is such a weird feeling. There is so much that can go wrong. So much I don’t know how to do yet. So much to expect that I haven’t even thought of. Babysitting Mabel and Ainsley is easy. Pop in a Wii game and let them go nuts. But a baby? That’s a whole different thing I’ve never done before.
“At least my parents are really excited.”
“I know. I’ve read the notes that have come in your care packages.” She giggles, probably because I’m a grown-ass man who is still being fed by his mother.
“You think that’s funny, do you?” I poke her rib making her squeak. “That my mommy is sending me food?”
“I do. I mean, it’s nice that she’s being so supportive of your training. And it makes me a little less afraid to meet her since she’s trying to feed the baby, too.”
That stops me. I had no idea she was feeling that fear. “You’re scared to meet my parents?”
She nods. It’s subtle, but it’s there. I don’t miss how hard it must be for her to let down one of her walls.
“Why? Your family is terrifying. How are my parents, who send you vitamins, scary?”
Rosalind shrugs and bites her bottom lip. “I don’t know what they’re going to think of me and how we met.”
“Why does it matter?”
“I don’t want them thinking this baby is an inconvenience you got saddled with because some whore got knocked up on purpose to trap you.”
The look in her eyes breaks my heart. This is what she believes others think about her. And now some of her standoffish-ness makes so much more sense. She’s afraid the people in my life, the people I love and who love me, are going to judge her for her employment history and how our child came to be.
I grab her hand and intertwine our fingers. I expect her to pull away, but she doesn’t, instead letting me hold on to her.
“First, you’re not a whore. You never were. You’re an athlete.”
She huffs a disbelieving laugh.
“It’s true. So, you flashed your boobs while you did it. Who cares? I see more boobs at a Mardi Gras parade than I ever did while you danced.”
That makes her smile. It’s small, but it’s there.
“Second, my parents already know how we met.”
“What?” She sits up, eyes wide, our hands disconnecting. “You told them?”
“Oh, Rosalind, you vastly underestimate my upbringing.”
“What does that mean?”
“My parents are the best people. Except for not letting me live in my childhood home rent-free when they moved. Something about me being an adult and taking care of myself. Totally rude if you ask me, but that’s a story for another day.” She lies back down, settling into the covers again. “But they are the least likely people to judge someone else for their job. In fact, I’m pretty sure my dad was a bouncer at a club similar to The Pie Hole when they met.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, I don’t know the whole story and, frankly, I don’t want to. There are certain things I don’t need to know about my mother, and her sexual prowess is at the top of that list.”
Rosalind huffs another laugh, only this time, it’s in amusement. It makes me happy to be making some headway with her insecurities. I suspect she’s had them for longer than she cares to admit. Then again, if my mother was Mona Palmer, I might feel insecure, too.
“So, you think she’ll like me? Not just because of the baby, but because of me?”
“I don’t think so. I know so.” Reaching over, I gently stroke her hair, moving a stray piece behind her ear. More than anything I want to lean over and kiss her, but I won’t. Not while we’re having a tender moment like this.
“Thanks, Joey,” she says quietly, the relief evident on her face. I’ll probably have to keep reminding her she has nothing to worry about, but it’s a start. “But that doesn’t solve the problem of how the hell we’re going to figure out how to be parents.”
“You think maybe we should talk to somebody, like Elliott?”
Rosalind looks up at me again, her dark eyes seeming to glow in the moonlight. I hope our baby has her eyes. “You don’t want to talk to Abel?”
“I don’t trust him,” I say with a chuckle. “He’ll think it’s funny to tell me I have to get the baby a mohawk for his health or something.”
“And you think Elliott won’t?”
I think back to last year when she sent me the article about penile health. I spent a long weekend jacking off three times a day to make sure I didn’t get backed up only to find out it was a joke. Chaffing is something no man ever forgets.
“Good point. Let’s talk to Dinah, instead. She’s been working in the childcare area for forever.”
“I like Dinah,” Rosalind says as she stretches her whole body and rolls onto her stomach. Well, as much as her stomach will allow. I grab an extra pillow off the floor next to me and hand it to her. “Thanks,” she breathes as she situates it under her body. “She’s always so nice to me and her kids are already grown, so at least she knows how to keep them breathing.”
“Wait, Dinah has kids?”
Even in the dark, I can see her brows furrow. “You didn’t know that?”
I shrug, feeling kind of stupid for just assuming she was single and childless. “I guess it just never came up.”
“You’ve worked with her for how long and never thought to ask?”
“I make it a rule never to ask a woman if she has kids. That, her age, and her weight are liable to get you punched in the junk.”
Rosalind giggles and it’s a welcome sound. I like that she’s getting more comfortable with me and trusts me enough to let her guard down sometimes. “You got me there. I just think it’s weird that it’s never come up in conversation. My first week there she mentioned one of them coming home for a visit.”
“In my defense,” I argue, “the only times I visit the childcare center are when Abel and I are talking, and he has to go make googly eyes at his woman.”
She laughs again, probably because she knows I’m right. That man it so whipped. Not that it’s a bad thing. Elliott is pretty cool when she’s not yanking my chain about shit that makes me yank other parts of my body.
“Maybe we should make a trip in there without Abel tomorrow. To talk to Dinah and pick her brain. Ask questions about what to expect when you’re expecting.”
I raise my head and stare at Rosalind. “Did you just make a baby book joke?”
“Why, I believe I did.”
“Nicely done.” I fist-bump her in the dark because I’m pretty impressed. Not only did she make a funny, she did it after midnight when she’s falling asleep. “And yeah, let’s go see Dinah tomorrow. Maybe she can give us a little more insight into… hell I don’t even know what she can tell us.”
“That’s exactly why we need to talk to her.” The words are barely out of her mouth before a giant yawn takes over. She’s exhausted and needs her rest.
“Go to sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
She says nothing but her breathing slows until I know she’s fast asleep. I lie there for a while longer just listening to her soft breaths and the sound of my own thoughts about the baby, pending fatherhood, and the heat of the woman in control of it all next to me.
She fits right here
next to me. I just hope she realizes it sooner rather than later.
Chapter Fourteen
ROSALIND
I hear the tap of her walker before I see her, yet I still know what’s coming.
“Turn around, dear. Let me look at you.”
I smile to myself and do as instructed. Edna demands to see my pending baby bump every day. And every day she responds the same way when she sees it’s still too small to rub without possibly getting arrested.
“Ugh. I need you to hurry up and show. I have a bigger bump than you do,” she complains like always.
“Give her a break, Edna.” And Harriet always defends my inability to show faster. “It’s her first baby. She won’t grow as fast as she will next time.”
I grimace. “Next time? Who says there will be a next time?”
Edna points a bony finger at Joey, who is chatting with a client at the trainer station. “You mean to tell me you don’t plan to tap that again?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Of course, you didn’t,” she agrees. “You may be young, but you aren’t stupid. That is one fine specimen right there. Take advantage of his virility while you can.”
I can’t help but laugh. When I took this job, I expected to get to know members a bit. I did not, however, expect to have an eighty-seven-year-old woman school me on my sex life.
“I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Edna.”
She pats my arm and begins the slow shuffle into the locker room, Harriet right behind her. It’s then that Joey decides to approach.
“What was that all about?”
“What, Edna?” He nods. “Let’s just say she’s one of your biggest fans. In many inappropriate ways.”
He freezes momentarily, and just as suddenly, snaps out of it, asking, “Is it weird that that makes perfect sense?”
“Not if you know Edna.”
“Agreed.” He claps his hands together. “Anyway, are you at a stopping point?”
Stacking the last of my towels, I open the laundry door behind me to put things up. “Yeah, sure. Let me get this all in here first.”
Weights of Wrath (Cipher Office Book 4) Page 11
