by CM Foss
“You’re going to call and make an appointment tomorrow?” I swiped my thumb over her lower lip, tugging from where it was trapped between her teeth.
She nodded.
“Do you want to schedule it so I can be there?”
Her mouth curved into a small smile. “If it works. Otherwise Emily can come with me.”
“I want to be there,” I insisted.
“I know you do. Maybe you will.” She stretched on her toes and kissed my cheek, lingering there. I closed my eyes, breathing her in. “I need to go.”
I tightened my fingers in her hair and pressed a final kiss to her forehead, squeezing my eyes together as I pulled back. “See you soon.”
The rest of the passengers were already boarded, and the attendant was starting to get annoyed. Ivy gave a small tug on my shirt by way of good-bye and walked away. I watched her until she disappeared from view and then waited an extra minute just in case she turned around. But she didn’t.
It was a long flight home with thoughts swimming through my head. What to do and how to do it. What I wanted and what Ivy wanted and what I knew was best for our child. And what was realistic, practical.
I got home to a cold, empty apartment. It was gray and sterile. Looking at it, I realized I’d never really moved in. There were still a few unpacked boxes in the corner of the living room, and the only room that looked lived-in was the kitchen. It was getting late and I was starving. I considered popping out to grab some takeout, but Ivy’s voice in my head stopped me. Instead I made some eggs and toast, grabbed a beer, and ate in front of the travel channel.
I lingered in the shower, letting the hot water sluice over me, washing away the airport grime. When I couldn’t put it off any longer, I climbed under the cool sheets of my bed and stared up at the ceiling. Traffic was running outside, horns noisily blaring, the occasional holler from a passerby. I threw my arm over my face, blowing out a breath, trying to block the outside world and will myself to sleep, when my phone buzzed beside me.
Without looking, I reached for it and swiped it on. My face lit in a wide grin as soon as I saw that it was Ivy texting. That and the fact that she’d snuck into my phone and replaced her name with Baby Momma.
Baby Momma: You make it home okay?
Me: I made it to my apartment. Yeah.
Baby Momma: What’d you have for dinner?
Me: Eggs.
Baby Momma: From the store??
Me: No. From my pet chickens.
Baby Momma: Gross.
Me: They’re brown eggs. Does that help?
Baby Momma: Kind of…
Me: Miss me?
Baby Momma: Go to bed and stop fishing.
Me: Night, beautiful.
Baby Momma: Night, city.
Ivy
“I’m throwing you a baby shower,” Emily stated as she marched into the barn the morning after I got back from Texas.
“Ugh.” I continued straining milk into jars.
“No ugh-ing. You’re having a baby. You’re having a baby shower.”
“Ugh. I don’t even like presents. No way do I want to have to open them in front of other people.”
She pursed her lips at me and jumped in to help with processing the milk.
“Who doesn’t like presents? That’s deranged.”
We put the final jars in the fridge. “Tell you what? If you promise not to subject me to a shower, I’ll go baby clothes shopping with you for hours.”
“Hours?” Her eyes lit in glee.
“Promise.”
“Now?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t…”
“Yay.” She clapped her hands and darted out of the barn. “Let’s go.”
…talking about right now.
Still shaking my head, but in resignation, I followed her out.
“I don’t have hours this afternoon.”
She didn’t even pause, sliding behind the steering wheel of her car. “We can break it up into several days.”
I laughed and hopped in, little butterflies of excitement fluttering in my stomach as we drove into town. I almost couldn’t believe I was going to buy some clothes for the life growing inside me. It made everything seem really, really real.
The boutique in town was probably the one store I’d never been in, because I’d never had a reason to. The window displays always caught my attention though, and today was no different. I stopped to look at them before we went in. Little toddler mannequins dressed in seersucker overalls and pink pinafores. Okay, it was cheesy. I would never dress my kid that way. Still, it was cute-cheesy.
Emily nudged me forward, and we entered the front door, bells jingling overhead. Straight ahead, at the back of the store, I could see the newborn section. The saleslady was on the phone, and I motioned in a way to let her know we were just browsing. She waved us ahead with a smile.
I chewed on my lip as I took in the vast array of pinks and blues and yellows. There were rattles and blankets and piggy banks, all kinds of cuteness, but I was drawn immediately to a tiny white onesie with pale blue trim and a little billy goat stitched on the front.
“This is ridiculous.” I picked it up to study it closer. “Why do I love this so much?”
“Because you’re really weird and love goats. And because it’s adorable. Let’s get that.”
I nodded. “Okay. I’m done.”
“What? We’ve been here for two minutes.”
“Yeah, but this is all I want right now. It’s perfect.”
She huffed but relented. “Fine. You go check out, and I’m going to pick something too.”
I paid, a lot, for my item and laughed when Emily showed up at the counter with a miniature button-down shirt and a onesie that had been painted to look like a pair of scrubs.
“That’s amazing.”
She winked. “I know.”
“So,” she said as we got back into the car. “You feeling better about all this?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. I’m still nervous. But I’m excited. Patrick’s family was so nice. If I was going to get knocked up by someone, I’m not sure I could have picked a better man.”
“Unless he lived nearby.”
“Well, there’s that.”
“Did you guys make any sort of plan?”
I sighed and fiddled with the edge of my T-shirt. “Not really. I guess we’re kind of dating.” I shuddered. “I hate that word. Not so much dating each other as much as we aren’t dating other people.”
“I don’t even really know what you just said.”
“We’re going to get to know each other better. And then we’ll make a plan. There’s no real rush. This baby’s not coming out tomorrow. Patrick has a lot of work over the next month to make up for the time he’s taken off. That’s my fault, so I feel kind of bad. But”—I shrugged again—“that’s also kind of the way it’s going to be for a while. He’s a doctor. I understand that. I almost was one too.”
She nodded slowly. “That’s real reasonable.”
“Thank you.”
“Not very romantic.”
“Being pregnant is the furthest thing from romantic. Ever.”
Chapter 24
ONE MONTH LATER
Patrick
Me: Send me your picture.
Baby Momma: No.
Me: But I miss you.
Baby Momma: You’ll still miss me, with or without a pic.
Me: It would please me.
Baby Momma: Stop reading your sister’s romance novels.
Me: Boob shot?
Baby Momma: Maybe later.
I smiled as I leaned back in my office chair, having taken a short break with my phone. This was our rout
ine: morning, noon, and night. Usually we spoke at night, but if I was running late or Ivy had clients, we would at least always text. We were learning more and more about each other, our families, and our hopes for the future. But we were also taking it one day at a time. Well, she was. I hadn’t divulged the plans I’d been making behind her back.
Me: Are you nervous?
Baby Momma: A little.
Me: Sorry I can’t be there.
Baby Momma: It’s okay. I understand.
Me: I will see you next week though.
Baby Momma: I know. And I can’t wait.
Me: You don’t sound excited.
Baby Momma: Not enough !!!!?
Me: Not nearly.
Baby Momma: I CAN’T WAIT!!!!
Me: You’re a smartass. Text me after your appt.
Baby Momma: !!!!
Ivy
“Emily!” I whined. “We’re gonna be late. Hurry your ass up.”
“Doctors are never on time. If we hurry, we’ll end up sitting in the waiting room forever.”
“I don’t care. I don’t wanna piss anyone off by being late. Let it be their fault. Plus I have to get back to meet those guys about the bulls.”
She muttered something under her breath, shaking her head, but finally put her shoes on and walked outside. I skidded in the mud as I reached the driver’s side of my truck and had to grab the handle to keep from busting my ass. Emily eyed me sideways as we climbed in next to each other.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I can’t believe how much rain we got. It’s like a giant slop bucket out there.”
“Sure you don’t want to cancel selling semen? The working corrals are pretty flooded.”
“No, I don’t want to cancel,” I said as I scraped the mud off my boots on the running board. “I’m too busy to cancel.”
“Geez, you’re nervous.”
I glared at her. “I know. That’s the point.”
She held up her hands. “I just didn’t know how bad it was.”
I started the engine and pulled out onto the road. “It’s better than it was.”
“That’s frightening.”
“Shut your trap.”
She snickered at me and continued teasing for pretty much the entire twenty-minute drive into town. Because that’s what friends do. I would have been annoyed if it wasn’t actually keeping my mind off what was next. And when we walked in the building, she shoved me through the door first. But when my name was called, she gave my hand a squeeze and led the way.
They weighed me, which wasn’t my favorite thing to do, and the nurse did all the usual blood pressure, heart rate stuff. My blood pressure was elevated, but given my repressed nerves, that was to be expected. She repeated the test while I thought back to Patrick’s hand on my back and his soothing words in my ear. I answered all her questions, and then Emily and I were left alone in the room. We looked at each other, and I’m not sure why, but we both got the giggles. Silly, drunk-girl giggles, even though no one was drunk. I promise.
Emily picked up the vagina diagram and tilted her head to the side, studying the anatomy.
“How does this thing work?” she asked.
“Really?” I began to laugh again.
She thrust it into my hands, and I almost dropped it. “I mean, it’s so ugly. How do so many good things happen to it?”
I glanced at the poster on the wall of a baby exiting a woman’s body and winced. “Not all things that happen to it are good.”
“That’s true. I don’t know how you come back from something like that. But it seems to work out just fine.” She took the diagram back from me and poked a finger at it. “Is this the g-spot?”
I snorted and doubled over laughing. “No.” I gasped for breath and pointed to the right spot.
She furrowed her brows and dropped the vagina into her purse. “I’m taking that home with me. For reference. Next dude to touch me has to have a class.”
My jaw dropped open. “You cannot steal that,” I whisper-yelled. “Put it back.”
She sighed and took it out of her bag, tossing it back on the side table, where it fell into four pieces. “Oh shit.” She laughed and picked up the parts. “How do you put this thing back together?” We heard voices outside the door and Emily chucked her new puzzle back into her purse and kicked it under her chair.
The doctor chose that moment, when I was wiping tears from my eyes and gasping for breath, to swing the door open. She was probably in her late forties, fit but stern-looking. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, and she wore little-to-no makeup. After introducing herself as Dr. Kearny, she gave me an unnecessary talking-to about my life choices and lack of medical care over the years, though she was otherwise impressed by my lifestyle. Except I felt judged on my previous wine intake. As per usual.
She tapped the keys of the computer to order up a million or so vials of blood she wanted taken to ensure my overall health, particularly after hearing my family history. It was always a downer. Then finally, I lay back on the exam table to have yet another ultrasound. I made a halfhearted attempt to insist I didn’t need another one, but Dr. Kearny insisted on her way much harder, so I gave in. I wanted to see too.
She took all the necessary measurements, clicking and typing and nodding her head. Otherwise she was awkwardly silent, and Emily and I kept exchanging glances. Emily was clearly trying to stifle her giggles, for which I was profoundly grateful. It kept my nerves at bay and reminded me that there was nothing to worry about.
When she was done, Dr. Kearny handed me a roll of printed ultrasound pictures and a second set to Emily.
Emily’s brows were furrowed as she studied the photos. “Thanks?” she said carefully.
“You’re welcome,” the doctor said distractedly as she stood to leave. “I always give a set to both parents.”
Emily blinked slowly as I snorted and covered my mouth.
“Oh, uh,” Emily began.
Dr. Kearny shook my hand and opened the door. “Head on down to the lab as soon as you’re done here. Your results will be available online in a few days. You’ll get an e-mail. And I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
She flashed a tight smile and was gone.
Emily and I looked at each other with wide eyes before erupting in laughter. I tugged my jeans on and jokingly grabbed her ass on our way out.
“We should get married,” I said with a wink.
She nodded solemnly. “It’s the best thing for the child.”
It took another hour to wait for a stupid blood draw and to pee in a cup. By the time it was all done, we had to hustle back to the farm to meet up with the potential clients who were coming to see the bulls.
I hated rushing and I hated being late. I was out of sorts, racking my brain to make sure I’d left everything in order so at least the place looked organized and professional.
We pulled up literally right in front of the hired car carrying the group. I had Emily drive past the parking lot and around to the back of the barn so it would look like I’d been there for a while.
I didn’t even wait for her as I jumped out of the truck, zipping my jacket over my ever-growing belly bump. Gravel crunched under my boots as I took long strides into the barn. Luke was waiting stoically inside, hands in his pockets.
I stopped to greet him, and the opposite door opened, allowing four suit-clad men to walk in. Matt followed behind them, carrying a large case, and made a face behind their backs at their attire. Luke smirked at me but otherwise said nothing. He just turned and walked with Matt out to the working chutes while I introduced myself and led the group after him, waving to Emily as she drove away to work at the bar.
We’d had heavy downpours in the morning and everythi
ng was a mess, slick mud coating every surface, and where cattle tromped, it was ankle deep. Such was autumn around here. The squeeze chutes had rubber mats that helped, but the rest of the round pens were pretty sloppy. The fact that the group wore suits was laughable. These were the money guys, and apparently they would observe from afar. They were all in their late forties to early fifties, except one who looked to be in his midthirties. He eyed me with a mix of interest and curiosity. I was kind of used to that, so I thought nothing of it.
While Luke was finishing the setup of his equipment so we could once again ultrasound the beef quality, I pulled out Mr. Moto to show off his body score. He followed me quietly to a relatively dry spot on the grass and stood to allow me to point out features of the Wagyu breed and also to distract from the fact that Luke was still doodling with cords and buttons and yelling at Matt to fetch him some missing part.
When they were finally ready, I led Moto to the chute and loaded him in. Luke took over at that point so I could stand back to watch. As I did, the younger gentleman, Ben, approached me.
“This may seem like an odd question, but I think I might know you?” His voice formed a question.
I smiled. “Ah, I don’t think so. I never forget a guest.”
He shook his head. “No. Not here. Did you… did you used to work at a coffee shop years ago”—he swiped a hand through his hair—“gosh, what was it called…”
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, surprising me in their intensity. “The Grind,” I said quietly. “Every neighborhood has to have some version of a coffee shop with grind in the name, don’t they?” I added with a small laugh.
“Yeah.” He nodded, oblivious to my discomfort. “How’d you end up out here?”
