by Fiona Murphy
I’m telling myself it’s for the baby, but sometimes he blinks fast when I bring up the baby as though he forgot. Even though I’m getting bigger by the day. Enzo refuses to hear me complain about the way my body is changing. He swears he loves every new inch, although it is mainly just around my curves. If anything my face has slimmed slightly, although I’m no longer losing weight and am even putting on the weight the doctor wanted me to. I believe him—he becomes even greedier, hungrier than he’s ever been.
Once I reach twenty weeks, Enzo blows my mind when he tells me he’s afraid to initiate sex in case I’m too tired or not in the mood. He wants to leave it up to me. I’m sure he’s lost interest, he’s simply looking for an out. Within five head-spinning minutes he destroys that theory, but he’s adamant I’m to initiate from now on. At first I’m hesitant, then I get a little greedy; he confides he loves knowing how much I want him. I had no idea men needed an ego boost too.
Only a few days later I’m surprised to find men in the study, where I had put the piano. I was hoping to make it a library. I remember the last of my books, desk, and shelf from the small office I had in the two flat were supposed to be delivered today. Why in the world are there three men putting together shelves and unboxing—holy crap—nine boxes of books?
“Damn, you got home before they were done.” Enzo catches me around the waist, pulling my back against the front of him.
“What are they doing?”
“Giving you the library you wanted. Bethany helped me pick out the shelves, they’ll line those two walls. Your desk will go against that wall. Do you want a new desk? I was thinking we needed to go shopping for more cozy furniture for you to read on than the leather couch you kept. Maybe a new desk too while we’re at it.”
I’m shaking my head in disbelief as I catch sight of one of the boxes. “I can’t believe this, you got The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire and Harry Potter?”
“I cheated. I got into your ereader while you were sleeping. Between that, Russell, Bethany, and a sales person who knew a sucker when he saw one, you have a fully rounded library with space for more. I was sure you couldn’t possibly need any more books. Bethany, however, reassured me you will always need more books.”
I was sure I was done crying. “Hey, I thought this was a good thing. Are you mad I didn’t let you do it?” I shake my head. “Are we going to call these pregnancy hormones, and you can reward me later by being a bad girl and not saying thank you?”
Now I’m laughing. He does that so easily lately: makes me laugh, makes me happy, makes me forget all the reasons why I shouldn’t trust him with my whole heart. “Let’s get you into bed for your nap then. After dinner we can go shopping for furniture. Dominic knows a guy who’s willing to stay open late for us.”
***
Enzo
I never thought I could enjoy shopping. It turns out I simply needed the right incentive, like shopping for Chloe or the baby. This is a trip we planned a few weekends ago that managed to be waylaid by a day spent in bed talking baby names and making love. I’m glad we took the day for us, but Chloe is now at seven months. I don’t like the idea of leaving it to the last minute, especially since I spent a long damn night reading one of those expectant mother books. Up until now all my information has come from Bethany and a book Dante passed along to me. The book talked about the first weeks home, not the actual pregnancy. After I finished the book, I could barely sleep. I’m slightly reassured by all the positive sonograms we have each time we go in. I had to explain a half dozen times that I don’t care how much more the 3-D sonograms cost or that sonograms aren’t covered by insurance every single appointment, I wanted one every time.
I’m good to let Chloe choose to her heart’s content, until once I spot her looking at the price tags. After all these months? “Chloe, angel, no looking at the price tags. If it’s what you want then we get it, the difference of a few dollars doesn’t matter.”
“Enzo, it’s not a few dollars, it’s—” Shaking her head, she sighs. “Alright, Mr. Billionaire Money Bags.”
A woman comes over to help us, and now the buying starts in earnest. Chloe forgets about price tags, only looking to me for approval if I like something or not. She’s an easy read though, so I make sure to pick the things I can tell she likes. I manage to keep her hand in mine the whole time. For the first time we’re doing something for the baby Chloe forgets. What she forgets, I’m not sure, but whatever it is has been popping up like a bad fucking penny over the last few months. One moment she’s happy, content, her body soft against mine; then she remembers and her smile fades, and she’s far away from me even when I’m holding her close.
Frustration seethes through me until I take a deep breath to force it down. Whatever it is, it’s my fault. I have no doubt about it. Which is why I’ve been working so hard to make her happy. I cut back on work, I’m home with her, I’m present, not worried about work or anything but her. With any other woman I would have gone with jewelry, handbags, shoes, but none of that would have impressed Chloe. She wanted my time, she wanted my attention, she wanted me. I’m willing to admit when I offered her that ring, I was prepared to give her everything but what she wanted. I was sure because of the lust, the need we had for each other, she didn’t need anything else beyond the way I could make her feel in bed.
As amazing as it is when we make love, it’s all the other things that come before and after it that make it so good. In my ignorance I believed I was enlightened because I counted listening as foreplay, knowing it wasn’t enough to be a good kisser or gifted at eating pussy. Only my attempts were all surface, I listened but didn’t hear. Now, I understand it begins with the way she’s the only thing I see or hear when she’s talking to me. The way I put her before everything. Before I said it, I went through the motions, only I didn’t mean it. But I get it now: all the money, the nice cars, it doesn’t mean shit because it doesn’t make her happy, it doesn’t put a smile on her face. For some reason only she knows, I do that.
So I’ve done all the things I planned on doing when the baby came. I put my people in play to run as if I weren’t there. I’ve had a few bumps, a person who didn’t meet their potential, I made adjustments. After so many years running at a hundred miles an hour I expected to miss it, to resent Chloe for making me slow down. Instead, in trying to make Chloe happy, I’ve become happier myself. Not just because she’s happy, but because when I’m with her, she just...I don’t even know. All the old angers, the frustrations, the resentment from years ago, they disappeared as if they were never there. The realization came over me one day when we were at Che’s, as he lectured me on making sure I was taking care of Chloe. Any other time I would have sighed, said something sarcastic or rude and walked away from him. This time I understood he was only trying to help, to make sure I didn’t make the same mistakes he did. There was no angst anymore. I felt almost weightless from the loss of it.
I look up; Chloe is asking me something. I shake off my thoughts as I focus on her. Deep breath, I just have to keep showing her. She isn’t going anywhere, and neither am I. As much as I want to tell her whatever it is she needs to hear, I know showing her is what she really needs.
We’re in the nursery, and with the room completely empty it’s easier to see where to put everything. For now we bought the crib, a changing table, and an upholstered chair that rocks, not somehow to be confused with a rocking chair.
I need to put the crib and changing table together. It isn’t hard, they both take less than twenty minutes each. Once I’m done I ask Chloe what she thinks.
“I think you’re so sexy when you get all capable and slightly sweaty. I’m sorry I made you outlaw me from your workout room, but it’s your fault for being so hot when you sweat.” Up on her tiptoes, her arms go around my neck. Damn, it will never stop thrilling me the way she loves my body.
A long time later we are lying on the soft white shag rug we got to soften the hardwoods. “What do you think, yellow or green?�
��
“What?”
“Paint for the walls, I can’t decide between a soft yellow or a mint green for the colors.”
“I vote neither. Why aren’t we doing pink? If you don’t want to do all pink, we can just do one wall, then maybe a mural or something on another wall.”
“Enzo, you’re not supposed to do pink or blue anymore. You’re supposed to go neutral so there’s no pressure to be all girly or boyish.”
“That’s bullshit. I’m sick of the whole PC thing. What the fuck does a pink or blue room do to a child? If we weren’t willing to let them change it once they grew up and said they wanted something else, then that’s fucked up. But if we paint it pink now and when she’s older she says she doesn’t want a pink room, she doesn’t have to keep it.”
“What if the next baby is a boy and we’re moving him to a pink room? You don’t think that’s weird?”
I take a deep breath. I wanted to wait but I can’t. “I’ve been thinking.” She stiffens. “I was reading that book and I just... I’m sorry. I had no idea what all went into a pregnancy. I’m not going to hold you to the two kids thing in the prenup. I’m a hundred percent good with this being our only child. There are so many things that can go wrong. We can have children other ways, or hell, I’m okay with not having any more children. I’m not okay with all the different ways I can’t have you if something goes wrong.”
She blinks; damn, a few tears spill over. “I’m fine. I’m healthy. I am not okay with not having half a dozen kids. Are you trying to get out of our agreement, Mr. Sabatini? Am I going to have to call your lawyer?”
While I understand she’s trying to joke, to play it off so she doesn’t ugly cry as she calls it, I can’t joke about it. “I mean it, Chloe. I want it on the record. If you don’t want any more, whether it’s after this pregnancy or the next, I’m okay with that.”
Wiping her eyes, she nods. “Okay. Message received. Right now though, I’m asking if you really don’t think it will be weird to move a boy into a pink room, in case the next baby is a boy.”
“Are you trying to argue? We can paint the walls. I don’t think whether a room is blue or pink or yellow matters all that much to a child. It’s just a color.”
“What will you think if our daughter or any son we might have is gay or...”
Her forehead furrows; I don’t like it. I trace a finger over the lines. I’m aware the question means a lot to her. “I’ll be glad they know who they are. I’ll be worried, their life won’t be an easy one because of all the challenges they’ll face. The one thing I won’t do is question it or stop loving them. It’s our job to make sure they grow up to be kind, honest, work hard for what they want, have respect and empathy for others, for them to always trust we’re here for them, we have their back, we won’t do the work for them but we’ll hand them the tools they need. Anything beyond that has nothing to do with us.”
She sags against me. Bump moves, for some reason we refer to the baby as “bump,” as for a while we weren’t sure on a name. I’m forever fascinated by the way she’s growing our baby. I run a hand over her stomach in wonder, and almost immediately a kick answers against my hand. “You were worried I would say she was no child of mine and toss her out of the house?”
Her eyes slide away from mine. “Sometimes you don’t have much patience when things don’t go exactly the way you want them to.”
I catch her chin, drawing her eyes back to mine. “I’m sorry. I’ll admit that I’ve had my way for far too long. There weren’t many people who dared to deliver or be anything other than what I wanted and expected. I am trying to do better, to be better. I might fall short, but I won’t stop trying.”
26
Chloe
Oh my god, I love this baby already, but I’m so ready for this to be over. Sliding out of bed doesn’t happen as easily as it used to. I swear everything is swollen, even my eyelids. I’m in the shower for way too long. Going downstairs, I don’t even care it’s already after nine thirty; if I could I’d go back upstairs and go straight back to bed. My phone beeps, fuck, I forgot today is a doctor’s appointment right at the beginning of the day.
“Hey, sleepyhead. I was worried I’d have to go wake you up.” Enzo’s arm goes around me as he kisses my forehead. “What do you want for breakfast?”
I’m not really hungry but don’t dare say it. “Oatmeal and toast. What are you doing home?”
He shrugs. “I had a light morning anyway. I figured why go in for a few hours when I could work from home.”
It never ceases to amaze me when he’s all nonchalant about not going into work. Even if his home office is almost an exact replica of his office at work, I’m still wondering when he’s going to grumble about not being able to do something he could at work. Instead he laughs and says if anything, his relationship with Pauline has improved.
Huh, even though I wasn’t hungry I eat the large bowl of oatmeal and three pieces of toast.
We don’t have to wait long before Whitney is in to see us. At first she does her usual chat of asking how everything is going, then she looks through her notes. “Okay, let’s check your blood pressure again.”
“We just did that,” I mutter.
“Yep, and we’re doing it again.” It’s annoying how chipper she is. Nodding, she notes the numbers. “And you’re high. You were elevated slightly when you were in two weeks ago. I’m going to need you to bring it down. Naps, still?” I nod as I look to Enzo. He’s been merciless about the naps. His hand swallows mine. “Okay, I’m going to want you to pull back on work, maybe go half days. You’re at thirty-two weeks, you’re close but any extra time we can buy the baby is good. With your blood pressure increasing week after week, I don’t like it.” She looks to Enzo. “Dad, I want her checking her pressure four times a day, morning, afternoon, evening and at bedtime. In two days call in with the numbers. If they aren’t bad we’ll go with updates every two days.”
Enzo is frowning. “And if they’re bad?”
“Then we get Chloe on bed rest to see if that helps, if not we look at early delivery. Right now, she could go into labor and both she and the baby will be fine. But again, lung health is what we want to consider. She’s not crazy high; however, I am concerned.”
Frowning. “If they are both fine to deliver now, can’t we do that? I’m not willing to take chances with my wife’s health. I’ve read about babies being delivered before this date and were perfectly fine.”
“Enzo, the baby’s lungs. I’m scared too but I feel good. The longer we wait the better for both of us.”
“Mr. Sabatini, I know what I’m doing. I will not take chances with either your wife’s or your child’s health.”
“Fine. She’s going on bed rest as soon as we leave here. I want that noted.”
“Bed rest—”
“Either you go willingly or I tie your ass down,” Enzo snaps.
Whitney’s lips flatten as she tries not to laugh. “I’ll leave you two to discuss how that’s going to work. Be back in two weeks, two days call in to the office, Mr. Sabatini.”
We’re barely out of the office. “Enzo, I—”
“It’s not up for discussion. Are you not worried about your own health?”
I am scared; we didn’t come this far to lose her. I’m not going to argue with him.
I’m not sure if Enzo is working from home because he doesn’t trust me to stay in bed or what. I am sure I love it. He even brings his laptop in to work on the bed with me for a few hours a day. We read everything we can, for the hundredth time, about the first weeks of a baby coming home, cramming for the test that’s due any minute.
Just when everything feels settled into a routine after a week, it happens. My back has been aching all day. I thought it was the way I was sitting in bed. In the middle of the night I wake with the need to pee. Sitting up, I’m ashamed when I think I’ve peed the bed, only to process it wasn’t pee.
“Enzo.” I shake him awake. “My water broke
.”
He shoots up from bed and impresses the hell out of me with how fast he moves. We’re in the car and on the way to the hospital only six minutes after I woke him up.
Seven hours later, I’m thinking he had no need to be so quick. Our daughter is taking her sweet time.
“Lillian is due to land in another hour. She’s wondering if she’ll make it?” Enzo asks.
“I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine,” I grumble.
“Ice chips, Chloe?” Bethany offers. I shake my head. “How about we try walking the hall again?”
“Do I have to?” A nurse is checking my blood pressure for what I swear is the fiftieth time since we got here. Her eyes go wide. She yanks a phone off the wall beside the bed. I don’t understand a word she says.
“What?”
“We’re going to get you prepped for cesarean. Your doctor is delivering another baby, two floors down. We’re going to let her know to get her up here. If not, we do have our top obstetrician here who can stand in.”
I nod, my throat has closed up. I clutch my stomach. I don’t feel anything different; oh shit, what if it’s because I don’t feel anything? I press low where I know the baby hates it. She kicks in answer. Thank god.
Holy fuck, the epidural has me screaming as I clutch Enzo’s hand. As I’m being wheeled into the operating room, I’m relieved when I see my doctor.
“My goodness, your daughter knows how to make an entrance.” Whitney chuckles.
Enzo is muttering reassuring things I can barely take in. His hand is squeezing mine so tight I want to ask him to stop, only I don’t dare. I hear her cry, then for some crazy reason I’m crying. They show her to me; she’s so beautiful, I mean not really because she’s still covered in white pasty something, but the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen covered in white pasty stuff. I’m a little jealous Enzo is holding her, except not really when he’s so happy.
