Mourning Wood

by Heather M. Orgeron

  “Are we gonna go in or are you two just gonna check out each other’s bathing suits all day?”

  “Yeah,” I say, forcing my gaze away with a laugh. “Let’s go.”

  The wave pool isn’t all that packed, probably because it’s still very early in the day. Not that I’m complaining. Prissy is having a blast swimming laps between wave sessions, and I’m not having any difficulty keeping her in my sight.

  “She’s a fish,” I observe, still amazed by how fast she picked up on the skill.

  Wyatt smiles tenderly, watching her with so much pride it momentarily steals my breath. He’s so easily slipping into a parental role with her—one I’m shocked that I’m not more reluctant to share. Their bond is effortless. I have to believe that if things ended up not working out between us, he’d remain a part of her life. I can’t allow my mind to think otherwise.

  “Now we won’t have to worry about her drowning in the bayou.”

  Comments like this one are why I’ll keep my fears and insecurities at bay and ride this train as far as it takes us. What man dates a woman for a few months and spends his time fretting over the safety of his home for her child? A damn good one.

  “Y’all,” Prissy comes up, sputtering, swiping water from her face. “Look at that lady’s boobies.”

  Wyatt’s eyes widen. Clearly, he hasn’t been privy to my child’s recent fixation with getting her boobs.

  “What about ’em?” I ask, shoving her hand down. “You know better than to point at people.”

  “I never saw some like that before.” With her palms rounded in front of her chest, she sways side to side as if she’s imagining them on her little body. “They’re really high. Almost in her chin!”

  “Because they’re fake,” I whisper, this time shoving both of her hands down. “Stop doing that.”

  But her mind only heard one portion of that conversation. “I know what I want for my birthday now.”

  Wyatt’s choking on a laugh before she gets the words out. He knows as well as I do what ridiculousness is coming.

  “Fake boobies.” She pokes out her chest doing a little shimmy.

  I can’t with this child. “You can’t get fake ones til you’re grown. It’s a surgical implant…like a pacemaker,” I add when her brow crinkles. She loves to accompany my father to the crematory and watch him remove them before cremation. We have to, or they’ll explode.

  “Fine,” she deflates. “My eighteenth birthday then.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Ugh,” she growls. “That means no.”

  I wink.

  “What’s with the boob obsession?” Wyatt mutters close to my ear when the waves begin to roll in and my child’s focus shifts. “Just when I think she and I couldn’t have more in common,” he muses.

  “I dunno,” I laugh. “She skipped the whole ‘all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth’ phase and went straight into wanting her very own set of boobies.”

  “Speaking of,” he growls, fixing his hungry eyes on my tits. “Is that some kinda magic bikini top you got on there? The girls are lookin’ nice.”

  “Definitely not,” I say, catching him off guard when I shove him under the water.

  After a few minutes of riding the surf, my stomach begins to make some waves of its own. I leave Prissy with Wyatt, citing a need to use the restroom, barely making it inside before expelling every bit of my breakfast and then some into the trash can.

  After rinsing my mouth a few times, I decide I won’t even mention my little bout of nausea to the other two. No sense in messing up their vacation as well.

  Sweat beads my brow when I return to the pool, and they’re not where I left them. I take slow, practiced breaths as I scour the area while going to my bag to check my phone, expelling a huge sigh of relief when I see that there’s a message waiting. “Took her to ride the Howlin’ Tornado. You can repay me in sexual favors at a later date.’” A second message follows with a series of three emojis: a winky face, a tongue, and an eggplant.

  I get to the attraction just in time to see the two of them come flying down, with identical looks of elation plastered on their faces.

  My heart threatens to burst from my chest, but instead it’s a cackle that erupts when Wyatt hits the water at just the right angle to have him cupping his junk beneath the water while an attendant fetches his shorts, which are riding the waves without their owner.

  I am cursing myself for not bringing my phone along, leaving me no way to record this historic moment that will no doubt be a highlight of this trip…if not our entire lives.

  “Well, hello, Morticia!”

  My lips twist into a smile at the sound of my best friend’s voice. I’ve only been back at work a few hours, but the intrusion is a welcome distraction from the stack of papers I’ve been mulling through since ambling in at six this morning. My mother, bless her heart, is not the most organized of people. There isn’t enough coffee in the world to deal with this level of chaos before breakfast, but I’m not one to leave shit lingering. I will be caught up by day’s end. I lift my gaze to find the stunning brunette lurking in the doorway with Lucy on her hip.

  “Good morning,” I singsong, scrambling from around my desk to steal my godchild and give my best friend a kiss. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Surprisingly, the baby leaps into my arms willingly. And while she only gives me about thirty seconds before wrestling to be set free, I’m claiming this small victory.

  “Knew you loved me, turd nugget,” I tease, setting her to her feet to do her worst on my office.

  “What’s not to love?” Kate says, shutting the door so her toddler can’t escape before plopping herself in one of the chairs. It’s not even ten in the morning and the poor girl looks busted. With her boundless energy, Lucy could exhaust a squirrel.

  “Not that I’m not ecstatic to see you both, but what are you doing here?”

  She narrows her eyes. “You just took a vacation with your new beau…I want details, missy!”

  I roll my eyes as I snatch the Sharpie her daughter just pilfered from the top drawer of my desk. “Prissy was with us. Believe my very despondent vag when I say there wasn’t any of that going on.”

  Before I’ve found a high enough place to stash the potential disastrous marker, she’s gotten ahold of a container of paperclips. Evidently, Kate believes herself to be on vacation because she doesn’t even move to correct the situation. “No, Lulu. You can’t have that either.”

  “Well, I know that.” My friend crosses her legs, making it clear she’s here for the long haul.

  Lucy’s loud wail drowns out whatever drivel comes out of her mouth next.

  “Here,” I say, shoving the sample dragonfly cremation orb into the raging tot’s hand. “Play with that.”

  “Did you just give my child a dead person to play with?”

  “I did.” My brow juts for the ceiling, daring her to question my godmothering skills.

  She raises her hands in a defensive motion. “Just checking.”

  “The trip was fine,” I say, finally collapsing back into my chair. “The park was really nice. Prissy had the time of her life. And Wyatt…” I feel the dreamy look that overtakes my face. “Well, he was amazing.”

  “Of course, he was.” She perks up, sitting higher in her chair. “Things are getting pretty serious with you two…” she says.

  “Yeah…I guess.” I grab a pen and begin tapping it on the table. The subject has me all sorts of flustered. “You don’t think it’s too fast though?”

  “What I think,” she says, leaning forward to rest her elbows on my desk, “is that it only matters what you and Wyatt and your little girl think.”

  I feel bile rising in my throat and try swallowing it down. “It’s just…people talk.”

  “Bitch,” she squeaks, slapping a hand over her mouth when she remembers her kid is in the room. “Sorry, Lulu.” She shakes her head at herself. “Bitch,” she mouths, “this town has been ta
lking about you since you turned up pregnant damn near eight years ago. Face it…they ain’t gonna stop till you’re dead. And maybe not even then.”

  “Oh, God,” I say, reaching for the trash can at the end of my desk, mostly dry heaving.

  “Eww, dat natty,” Lucy says, stepping back.

  “Sorry,” I say knotting the bag and getting up to set it outside of my office door until I can take it out. “I’ve been car sick.”

  Kate narrows her eyes. “You got home yesterday.”

  I shrug. “I’ve been sick since we left Thursday afternoon.”

  “Have you now?”

  “Why do you look so smug?” I swish my mouth with the little bottle of Listerine that now lives in my purse before spitting it into a disposable cup.

  “No reason.” She sucks her tongue to her teeth nodding to herself. “When was your last period?” She picks at her nails, calm as can be, like she’s just asked about the weather.

  I feel an icy chill. “A woman can be sick without it automatically meaning she’s pregnant.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She nods. “When was it?”

  “I don’t know.” I grab my calendar out of my top drawer to check—that can’t be…

  “Well?” she asks, getting up to look over my shoulder.

  “December.” I’m trembling so hard I can’t keep the little planner in my hands. “Kate,” I hiss, my eyes welling with tears. “We were careful. Every time. It can be stress, right?” I nod, trying to calm myself. “It has to be stress.”

  Kate’s eyes widen like saucers. “Holy fuck!” she says, not even caring that her child is now toddling around repeating the word. “Remember when your pussy gobbled up that condom?”

  I stretch my collar, suddenly finding it hard to breath. “His come was still in it. I checked.”

  “I think she may have swallowed a little.”

  “No.” She’s wrong.

  “I’m gonna be an Auntie again.”

  I take a deep breath. Followed by another, trying desperately not to pass out while my friend cheers at my demise. This can’t be happening. Not again.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, finally noticing I’m damn near catatonic. She waves a hand in front of my face. “Seriously, Whit? What the hell? It’s a baby…not a cancer diagnosis.”

  “I can’t,” I say, shaking my head.

  “You love him.”

  I nod.

  “He is crazy in love with you.”

  Again, I bob my head. “Seems to be.”

  “I don’t see the problem.” She lifts her child into her lap for effect. “A baby is a blessing. Wyatt’s not like Jeremy. He’d never leave you high and dry. That man’s going to be an amazing father, if you’re pregnant.” She shrugs her shoulders unconvincingly. “I mean, it might still be stress, right?”

  “He’s going to think I tried to trap him!” My heart is pounding, my fist itching to do the same when Kate bursts into hysterical laughter. Sometimes I really want to punch her.

  “I’m sorry.” She beats a hand on her chest, dramatically trying to wind down. “But did you just insinuate that man’s gonna think you have some condom-snatching talent of some sort?” She snorts, pointing a bossy finger at me. “That pun was totally intended, by the way. I want full credit in all future retellings.”

  “I’m the one who put it on,” I hiss at her.

  She shrugs. “And his dumb ass is the one who fell asleep and forgot to remove the damn thing before going soft.”

  “It wasn’t his fault.”

  “It was no one’s fault, Whit. That’s my point. It was an accident. Those do happen.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  Kate picks up my phone from the charging dock and holds it out to me across the desk. “You are going to call him, right now while you have me here for moral support, and you’re going to tell him.”

  Moral support, my ass. She just wants to witness the train wreck.

  I shake my head while accepting the device. “Maybe you could just go get a test from the drug store? Then we would know for sure… No need to worry him unnecessarily.”

  “Call him,” she urges. “He would want to be the one there with you when you find out. Don’t take that from him. And don’t push him away when you need him most.”

  I hate it when she’s right. “Okay,” I sigh, touching my finger to his contact before I can chicken out. “Here goes…”

  She gives me a thumbs up when he answers after the first ring.

  “What’s up, beautiful? Miss me already?”

  “Always,” I say with a lump forming in my throat. “Wyatt, I have to tell you something.”

  “Sounds serious.” The fear in his tone cuts right to my heart. “Are we okay? Did I do something wrong?”

  “Nothing like that,” I insist cutting him off. “Wyatt…I think—”

  Kate urges me on with the roll of a hand.

  “I’m late,” I blurt.

  “For what?” Poor clueless Wyatt.

  “M—my period is late. I’ve been sick, and you know my boobs are a little swollen and tender, and I don’t know why I didn’t think to check before, but Kate—she’s here, and she brought up the possibility, and I checked, and I missed my period in January.”

  “Breathe.” His one-word response has me full-on sobbing with relief.

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Mad? Why on earth would I be mad? Whitney, I love you.”

  Kate reaches to my desk, grabbing a tissue to dab at her eyes.

  “I love you too.” I sag into my seat. “I was so scared.”

  “Don’t be. God, Whit, I don’t ever want to hear those words pertaining to me ever again. The last thing I want is for you to ever fear me.”

  I nod as if he can see. “I’m sorry.”

  “Can you meet me at my house in…two hours?”

  “Sure… Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  “Told you,” Kate says, smirking, when I end the call. “That man is your happily ever after, best friend. And I’d just like to point out, you have me to thank for that.”

  When I pull up to his house, Wyatt is waiting on the front porch, pacing back and forth, looking nervous as heck. Maybe now that he’s had time to think about it, he’s had a change of heart.

  Oh, my God. What will I do if I lose him? This can’t be it. This can’t be how we end.

  Paralyzed with fear, I exit the car and make my way to the house with lead in my shoes and a boulder sitting in my chest.

  The moment I step onto the deck, Wyatt erases a load of my worries when he takes hold of my face and proceeds to kiss me senseless.

  “We’re still okay?” I ask when I’m free to speak.

  “Told ya we were when we talked earlier.” His smile is a soothing balm. “Nothing’s changed.”

  “Okay…you just worried me with the pacing.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with the maybe pregnancy.” He waves off my concern. “And everything to do with this.” He removes a small box from his coat pocket and offers it to me in a shaky hand.

  “What is it?”

  He shrugs his shoulders, blowing warm air into his fists to ward off a chill. “Open it and find out.”

  I pull the ribbon and open the box, identical to the one he gave me at Christmas. “It’s a key.” I lift the little charm, holding it out between us.

  “It is.”

  “For my bracelet?”

  He nods, taking it from my hand and lifting my sleeve to hook it on himself. “To mark what I really hope will be another milestone in our relationship.”

  “What milestone might that be?”

  “Move in with me.” He takes hold of both of my hands, rubbing his thumbs nervously over my knuckles.

  My eyes widen. “Wyatt, you don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to. I’ve had that charm since Christmas. It was part of your gift, but then I worried it was too soon and didn’t want to spook you.”

  My mind is reeling. “What
about Prissy?”

  “What about her?” He jerks back, seeming offended by the question. “She loves me…maybe even more than you do.”

  “I mean what if you hurt her, Wyatt?”

  “Then I’ll apologize, beg her forgiveness, and buy her a glass eyeball to add to her collection.”

  This man. I huff a laugh. “I don’t know…”

  “Not good enough,” he says suddenly very serious. “I want this settled before we go in there. Before we know for sure.” His eyes drop to my tummy. “I want there to be no question in that mind of yours that I want you and Prissy, whether there’s a baby in the equation or not.” His face crumples with raw vulnerability. “And I need to know, Whit. I need to know that you want me too. Either way.”

  Well, damn. There’s something in seeing this big strong man on the verge of tears that hits me with a jolt of clarity.

  “Yes,” I say, throwing my arms around his neck and letting my emotion run free. “Of course I want you, Wyatt. We want you.”

  After a long, passion-filled kiss, he sets me to my feet.

  “Then, it’s settled?” he asks, reaching into his pocket.

  I nod unable to wipe the smile from my face. “We’re officially shacking up.”

  He places the object he retrieved from his coat into the palm of my hand: a gold key dangling from a keychain that says “Home is where the heart is.”

  “Panties for your thoughts?” I’m sitting at the foot of the bed about ready to go crazy with anticipation when she comes out of the bathroom to find her black lace thong dangling from my finger, just like it was the day I taunted her with them in her office.

  It seems like a lifetime ago when in reality it hasn’t been but four months.

  “You’re ridiculous,” she says, a grin fracturing her severe tone as she walks toward me.

  “But you’re smiling…” I pat the mattress beside me, urging her to sit. “So, it had the desired effect.”

  As soon as Whitney stretches to grab them from my hand, I move them out of reach. “Ah-ah,” I chide. “Thoughts first.”

  “Can I just tell you why they were in my pocket?” She plops on the bed beside me.

  I tap a finger to her pout. “No can do. That ship has sailed, love. I’ve upped the ante.” Plus, after seeing how easily her pussy weeps for me, I’ve pretty much sorted that one out on my own.