Baby & Bump (The This & That Series)

by Moss, Brooke

  Fletcher turned back towards me, and his eyes widened. “Oh, it’s not an internal examination!”

  Mortified, I zipped my pants back up. “Um, sorry.”

  What was I thinking? Maybe next time I could hand him a whip and tell him I’ve been a bad girl. Fletcher looked away politely while I closed my pants. I noticed that the blush on his face had spread to his ears, which were now a lovely shade of fuchsia. At least he was as uncomfortable as I was.

  Once my zipper was back up, his smile reappeared. Fletcher’s fingers prodded my stomach a few times. “I’m just checking the size of your uterus,” He explained, his eyes flicking from my belly, to my face, then back down again. “It’s easy to find, since your stomach is still fairly small.”

  “Thank you,” I said automatically. I wasn’t sure if he’d meant it as a compliment, but every woman knows that if someone compliments your “small stomach,” you thank them.

  Fletcher stretched out the measuring tape down the length of my baby bump and nodded. “You’re measuring at nineteen weeks and two days. That sounds right to you?” I nodded, staring at the side of his chiseled face. He really did have a nice profile. “How’s the nausea coming?”

  “It’s getting better every day.” I suppressed a shudder as Fletcher’s fingers grazed the skin just below my ribcage. “I’m eating more and more at every meal. I should probably start watching my calories again.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure why I’d said that. I was a caterer for hell’s sake, I worked with, created, and tasted food for a living, and I’d never made any apologies for it. The small handful of men I’d dated since my divorce never seemed to care that I could order a tomahawk-cut Angus beef steak, cooked medium, and polish off every single bite of it. So why did I care if Fletcher thought I was one of those annoying count-every-calorie types?

  “Actually, no.” He put his tape measure back into his pocket, and pulled my shirt down over my stomach. His palms were sweaty. So were mine. “Right now, you’re a little bit underweight for your height and body type. It’s probably from all of the nausea.”

  Nodding, I tried not to think about all the random places around the city I’d vomited over the past few months. The restroom of at least four hotels where we’d been catering weddings; two garbage cans outside my food distributor’s headquarters; once in my mother’s lilac bushes; and countless times in the varied bathrooms at Candace’s house.

  “For the next few months I want you to eat an additional five to eight hundred calories every day.” When Fletcher noticed that my eyebrows shot up (getting permission to gorge through the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays was like finding the golden ticket), he added, “Once we put a little more weight on you, I’ll have you meet with my nutritionist, and she can help you come up with a healthy food plan for you and your baby.”

  “Okay.” I cradled my belly in my hands. “Does everything look all right?”

  His face softened. “Yes. My nurse said that the heart rate was around one hundred sixty this week, and that’s just where we want it to be. Your urine sample looked good, and your last round of blood work was clean as a whistle. Now I need you just need to focus on growing a healthy baby.”

  Fletcher held out his hand to help me back into a sitting position, and when I took it, a wave of energy danced between us. “Do you have any idea what it is? I mean, you know, from the measurements and urine samples, and stuff?”

  He leaned against the examination table as I sat up. Once again we were just a few inches apart. “Unfortunately, no,” he told me. Our fingertips were just a centimeter or two apart. “It doesn’t work that way. We can only find out your baby’s sex through an ultrasound, or an amniocentesis.”

  I pulled a face. “Amniocentesis sounds complicated.”

  “It is.” He nodded. “We go into one of my procedure rooms, and while using an ultrasound to guide me, I insert a needle into your uterus and amniotic sac, then—”

  “Whoa” I held out a hand. “Are you saying I have to have a giant needle jammed into my gut? You’ll maim my baby!”

  Fletcher put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “No. You won’t have to have an amnio unless we suspect complications. Sometimes we do them in the case of advanced maternal age, too.” I narrowed my eyes at him and he chuckled. “But you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Can we just schedule an ultrasound and never discuss that other test again?” I suggested, enjoying the way the ends of Fletcher’s fingers massaged my shoulder as we sat there.

  He grinned. “Deal.”

  We just sat there gazing at each other like idiots for a few seconds. After a silence that teetered on the edge of inappropriate, Fletcher drew a sharp breath, and let his hand drop. “So, uh, you can set that ultrasound up with my receptionist on your way out.”

  “Oh. Okay, thanks.” I didn’t want my appointment to be over yet. “So how’s Martha?”

  Fletcher dug into the pocket of his coat and pulled out his phone. “Check this out,” he said proudly. The picture on the screen was Martha wearing a fluffy white cap on her head, and a dress with the biggest bustles I’d ever seen. “She’s wearing her Halloween costume. She sewed it herself.”

  “No kidding?” I blurted. That kid had skills. “It’s really great! What was she? A colonial woman?”

  He pointed to the flag she was holding. “Betsy Ross.”

  “Of course!” I laughed. “It looks awesome. You should have brought Martha to my house for trick-or-treating. I was giving out full sized candy bars, I’ll have you know.”

  Fletcher raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know where you live. If I’d known, we would have stopped by for sure.”

  “My building is in Brown’s Addition, in the Mercer building. You a big chocolate fan, doctor?”

  “That depends. What kind are we talking about?”

  “Dark chocolate. My favorite.”

  Fletcher’s eyes flashed. “Mine, too.”

  I dropped my voice down an octave and leaned in a bit. “Guess you missed out then.”

  “Seems that way.”

  I offered him a one-shouldered shrug. “I didn’t get very many kids at my door, so I had lots leftover. I would’ve given you two.”

  “Okay, now you’re just trying to rub it in.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Sort of.” His hand shifted on the top of the examination table, making our pinkies touch. It felt like his fingers were on fire. Or maybe it was me. “I not only missed an opportunity to get score some dark chocolate bars, but I didn’t get to hang out with one of my favorite people, either.”

  He said I was one of his favorite people! My insides started to spin like propellers. “Are you just saying that because of the chocolate?”

  Fletcher’s eyes bore into mine. “Not at all. You know I like you, Lexie.”

  I opened my mouth to say something witty, but all that came out was a slow rush of air. “Is that so?”

  Fletcher’s hand covered mine on the table. “This is really inappropriate.”

  My mouth felt dry. “Because you’re my obstetrician?”

  “No.” He shook his head back and forth slowly, and a lock of his sun-bleached hair dropped across his forehead. “Well, sort of. But mostly because of Marisol.”

  Oh. Her. A clump of cotton balls formed in my throat. “Right.”

  “Have you noticed?” He paused, and his bright eyes scanned the floor while he searched for the right words. After a pregnant pause, pun intended, Fletcher finished his sentence by gesturing between us. “Something here?”

  My mind whirled.

  Every gaze that lasted for a beat too long. Every touch that lingered for a millisecond longer than it should have. Every joke only he and I understood. Every shared smile.

  Fletcher felt it, too. It wasn’t just me being overly hormonal and horny like Candace said. I’d felt something. Something deep in my core that rattled my insides and left me reeling. Whenever Fletcher was around, I felt like I’d
climbed too high on a ladder, and was on the edge of falling.

  It was thrilling.

  “Yes.” My voice was hoarse. “I’ve noticed something.”

  “I thought I was going crazy.” Fletcher’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “Well, maybe I am crazy, because…” He paused and took a breath. He seemed to grapple with his words. “I want to kiss you.”

  At least thirteen million red flags popped up in my brain. Somewhere deep in my ear canals, I heard an alarm going off.

  This just got real.

  Fletcher wanted to kiss me. Which, in and of itself, was excellent. But Fletcher was with Marisol. Which, in and of itself, was not good. I loved Marisol. We’d been friends since college, and she’d been there for me through so much. And despite her faults, I’d always known Marisol loved me.

  Fletcher’s hand slid up my arm, coming to rest just below my shoulder. I heard the muted sound of a phone ringing somewhere in the office, and another sound I was pretty sure was my heart galloping inside of me.

  “Lexie, I…”

  I felt Fletcher’s breath on my face as he started to close the gap between us.

  My hand went up, landing on his chest. “I can’t do this.”

  I stopped him just half an inch from connecting with my lips. It pained me to do it. I wanted Fletcher. I wanted him bad. But I wasn’t going to stoop to this level.

  Not today, anyway.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The place was perfect. It reminded me of a little dollhouse, with its window boxes and matching shutters. The curved front walk was lined with river rock, and the tiny courtyard outside the front door was decorated with a wrought iron bistro table and chairs. The comforting scent of chimney smoke filtered through the air from the neighbor’s chimney, and I could hear kids playing in the leaves down the street.

  I cradled my belly as I gazed up at the ivy-covered chimney, and the baby thump, thump, thumped me from within.

  “This is gonna be our home, little one,” I whispered as Corbin approached me from across the yard. His tool belt clinked against his legs as he walked.

  “Hey, Lex. Come to see the progress?” he called. “What do you think? Wanna buy it?”

  I bit my lip and forced an innocent smile. I wasn’t ready to share my intentions with my oldest brother. Yet.

  When I’d gone for my ultrasound a week earlier, I’d been both disappointed and relieved to discover that Fletcher was at the local hospital for a delivery. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him again—on the contrary, I wanted to see him again. Often. But now that our attraction to each other was out there floating around in the universe between us, it made being alone in a room with Fletcher that much more difficult.

  I wanted him. And knowing he wanted me back was an odd mixture of exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

  After Fletcher’s partner, Dr. Javornik, performed the sonogram, I went into overdrive. Every moment I wasn’t working was now spent shopping for blankets, booties, little tee shirts, and sleepers. (All in varying shades of green and yellow, of course, since my little butterball decided to turn its back to the camera, refusing to reveal its gender.) All of my baby supplies were stacked in the far corner of my living room, partially blocking the doorway to the kitchen, and creating a hoarder-vibe I wasn’t too fond of.

  I’d also secretly started filling out loan applications to purchase a home. Well, not just any home. I wanted the brick bungalow Corbin and Andrea had fixed up. There simply wasn’t enough room in my teensy apartment for a baby. The poor kid would have to learn to swing between the light fixtures in order to get from one end of the place to the other.

  I looked past my brother’s shoulder at the round stained glass window in the middle of the front door, and my heart squeezed. I was going to buy it. This is where I was going to raise my child.

  “I don’t know,” I lied, following Corbin towards the front door. “How much do you think you’ll ask for it when it’s done?”

  “You’ll have to talk to Andrea. She’s the one in charge of numbers.” The vibrating sound of base shook the ground underneath our feet, Corbin and I turned around just in time to see a car roll past. “Oh, phew,” Corbin sighed, running a hand through his copper hair. “I thought it was Darren.”

  I watched the car turn the corner down at the corner. “Are you avoiding Darren?”

  He shrugged. “Darren showed up here last week and asked us for a loan.”

  My mouth dropped. “He actually asked you for money?”

  Corbin followed my lead, and dropped his voice down to a whisper. “Yeah, Andrea and I both tried to call you afterward. Where have you been lately?”

  “The mall,” I confessed. When Corbin’s eyebrows furrowed, I added, “Been doing a lot of baby shopping.”

  “Right.” A moment of unhappiness that flashed in his eyes, but he quickly extinguished it. “Well, I think baby brother might have some big news soon.”

  My mouth dropped. “Did he get Panda pregnant?”

  “No.” Corbin shook his head. “But he’s thinking about proposing to her.”

  I froze in place, my jaw ajar. Darren was going to ask Panda—er, Pandi—to marry him? As in for better or worse? As in a lifetime commitment? This from my brother who once admitted that he goes through women like tissues, and breaks up with them at the first sign of the dreaded “L” word. Now he was going to ask this girl to marry him?

  My mother was going to have a heyday when she found out that my irresponsible baby brother was marrying this Pandi chick, while I was purposefully having a child out of wedlock.

  “You’re kidding.” I followed Corbin through the front door, where we were met by Andrea spackling a wall.

  “Not kidding. Apparently Darren’s found the one.” My brother smirked.

  “Hi, Lex.” Andrea put her tools down and smiled at me. “I see Corb here has shared the good news.”

  I blew her a kiss from across the room. “Ugh. He can’t be serious. And asking you for ring money? Tacky.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s Darren for you.” Corbin lightly touched a patch of drying spackle.

  “Be nice.” Andrea elbowed her husband gently, and approached me. “I think it would give your mother something fun to focus on. Wedding planning will be a nice distraction, wouldn’t you say?” She raised her eyebrows at me, and I caught the hint.

  It was no secret that my mother was trying to marry me off to the first man who would have me, and quickly running out of time to do it. Maybe the fact that Darren and Pandi would be planning a wedding would help take her focus off of me.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Maybe you’re on to something. Maybe we should all pitch in to buy Pandi a ring. A big one, so that she’ll be sure to say yes.”

  “Are you nuts?” Corbin called across the room. “Darren can barely pay his cell phone bill on time. How can he provide for a wife?”

  Andrea put her hands on my belly. “Maybe Pandi makes enough money for both of them.”

  “That’s probably why he wants to marry her.” Corbin pointed his hammer at the two of us. “Don’t encourage this.”

  “Yes, dear.” Andrea rolled her eyes at me and grinned. “Your belly is beautiful. How are you feeling?”

  “I don’t feel like my belly is beautiful, but thanks. I’m feeling really good now that I can eat again.” I dropped my purse on the living room floor—which was covered in gleaming hardwood, by the way—and moved Andrea’s hand. My baby was apparently taking up clogging, and preferred a spot underneath the right side of my ribs.

  Andrea’s eyes twinkled. “Any weird cravings? I had a friend who craved anchovies every single day.”

  I thought about the last few meals I’d eaten. They’d been interesting, to say the least. Now that my appetite was back with a vengeance, I was eating the most random meals ever. The night before I’d consumed a steak slathered in clam dip. And the night before that, I’d gorged myself on chicken wings dipped in bean dip.

  I didn’t w
ant to admit such culinary sins to my sister-in-law, though. She and Corbin were on an ultra healthy, macrobiotic diet because she’d read it helped with fertility.

  “Some.” I gestured to the coved arch that led to the hallway. “So show me around. This place is looking gorgeous. Probably my favorite Baump home yet.”

  “Thanks, sis.” Corbin put down his hammer, and strode across the room. He grabbed Andrea’s hand as he passed. “Come on, let’s show her our favorite room.”

  Andrea smiled. “You’re gonna love this, Lex.”

  We headed down the hallway, and I fingered the newly refinished built-in shelves that would someday house framed pictures of my baby and me. I peeked into the bathroom, where the new tile sparkled in the sunlight pouring through the window, and imagined myself giving the baby a bubble bath in the claw foot tub. The stairs at the end of the hall curved under the pitched ceilings, creating a fairy tale cottage feel as we approached the upstairs bedrooms.

  Corbin explained all of the improvements he and Andrea had added to the bungalow over the past few months, but I scarcely heard his voice. I was too busy peeking in doors and envisioning myself rocking my baby in the corner, or hanging it’s clothes on tiny hangers in the closets. I loved the house more and more with each step we took.

  “And this is our favorite room.”

  Corbin’s voice tugged me out of my thoughts.

  Andrea was standing proudly in front of a bay window that overlooked the maple tree filled backyard. It was adorned with a custom window seat adorned with handmade cushions. The cushions were covered in black and white toile, and on the underside of the seat was enough shelf space for at least two-dozen books. Through the window, you could see the entire Spokane city skyline, and the sound of the small rock fountain they’d built in the backyard trickled in through the open window. It was, in a word, gorgeous.

  This was my baby’s room.

  Unexpected tears filled my eyes. “You guys, I…”

  Andrea took hold of my arm. “Are you all right?”