by Meghan Quinn
Before Delaney exited the room, she leaned into me, placed her hand gently on my arm, and said, “Please don’t break her heart.”
She left, leaving me utterly confused. Why the hell would I break Rosie’s heart? She was my forever.
Silence filled the room, and I wasn’t quite sure how to approach the situation. In the past, I’d never had trouble talking to Rosie. It had always been easy with her. We were able to skip the awkwardness and be real with each other. Right now, it seemed like we wouldn’t be able to pull ourselves out of the awkward pool even if we had a crane helping us.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I walked over to the table and hovered over her. She turned her head away from me, not allowing me to see those beautiful blue eyes of hers.
“Rosie, please look at me.”
“I can’t.” Her voice was filled with heartache.
“Love, please. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours.”
She sniffed and wiped at her face, just as there was another knock on the door, followed by the doctor entering the room.
“How are we today, Miss Bloom? Glad you were able to come back and get things checked out.”
“Yeah, sorry about last time.” She sniffed and straightened on the table. She glanced at me briefly, and in that one second, what I saw broke my heart. Defeat. My stomach churned and nerves hit my veins hard, sending chills of anguish through my body.
“Since we already know you’re pregnant, why don’t we get right to it and see how far along you are?”
The doctor turned on the ultrasound machine next to the bed and dimmed the lights in the room. I took the seat next to Rosie so I could observe everything. I just wanted to touch her. Hold her hand. Stroke her cheek. Anything.
I’d watched enough TV shows and movies with pregnant people in them to know the drill. They squirted gel on the belly, moved a wand over the skin, and a grainy image popped up on the screen. Even though it was familiar to me, sitting in front of it now, watching the doctor open Rosie’s robe slightly to apply the gel, it was surreal.
Within minutes, the doctor had the screen fired up and the wand on her stomach. A whopping beat echoed through the silent room, and a little bean showed up on the screen. The doctor pointed at it and said, “There’s your baby.”
In awe, I watched the flicker of a heartbeat and the little shape take form. My heart beat rapidly and the only thing I knew to do was link my fingers with Rosie’s. I grabbed her hand and brought it to my lips. I placed a very gentle kiss on her knuckles, and held her hand close to me.
The doctor talked about the baby’s size and the heartbeat, and confirmed that she was in fact three months along, which meant Rosie and I must have conceived around the first time we had sex. What were the chances of that?
Well, according to Legacy, a point five percent chance. I guess we were the lucky ones.
The rest of the appointment was spent checking her body, asking her questions, and making sure she knew what vitamins she needed to take. But I didn’t pay attention to that—couldn’t—because in my hand was a strand of pictures . . . with my baby in them. Our baby.
My eyes misted with joy, and I didn’t care if the doctor saw me. This was the baby I created with Rosie, and it would be so fucking cherished. I would make sure of it.
“If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call the office. We will see you in a few weeks, Miss Bloom. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Rosie answered softly as the doctor left.
Neither one of us moved right away. She lay flat on the table and I sat next to her, frozen in awe. She was due in six months. In six months, we would no longer be a couple—we’d be a family of three.
A family of fucking three.
I ran my hand through my hair and glanced at Rosie, but she was no longer on the table . . . she was behind the partition getting dressed. Not even thinking about privacy, since I’ve seen her naked and in more compromising positions than I could think, I walked to the divider and watched her.
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” I asked, startling her.
Pants covered her bottom half, but she was still bare from the torso up. When she saw me, she quickly covered her breasts with her shirt. “What are you doing back here?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Rosie, why the hell are you covering up? I’ve seen you naked before.”
She didn’t answer me. She turned her back to me and continued to dress. Not liking the icy attitude, I pulled on her shoulders to turn her around. “Hey, why are you hiding from me?”
“Are you really that dense?” she snapped.
“Uh . . . I guess so. Please enlighten me.”
She yanked her shirt down so she was completely covered now. “Maybe because you are revolted by me.”
Ah, yes, our fight from last night. I’d so caught up in the baby I didn’t even remember we’d spent the night apart. How could I forget that? It was the worst night of my life.
Knowing I needed to be gentle, I tipped her chin so she was forced to meet my eyes. “Rosie, I’m not revolted by you, at all. I”—I looked around and let out a long breath—“I don’t want to do this here. Will you please go on a walk with me?”
“Don’t you have to work?” Her voice was terse, and I hated that she truly didn’t want me there.
“I took a personal day. I need to talk to you.”
She looked me up and down and then sighed. “Why do you have to have the most perfectly tailored suits and look so damn hot in them? Ugh.” She grabbed her purse and pushed past me. “Fine, I’ll walk with you, but just because I can’t deny you when you look like that.”
With a huge smile on my face, I buttoned up my jacket and guided her out of the office. We stood in silence as we rode the elevator to the main level, and didn’t talk when we made our way through the bustling streets of New York City.
The sun was shining brightly, birds were chirping in the trees above us, and the smell of fresh cut grass mixed with the dingy sidewalks of the city. It was a gorgeous day. It was the perfect day.
We made our way to a bench in Central Park that overlooked a small pond. Skyscrapers framed the green of the landscape, creating a picturesque moment, one I knew I would never forget.
“Why are we here?” Rosie asked. I gestured to the bench for her to sit, and luckily she complied.
“I need to talk to you, Rosie.”
“Why were you at the doctor’s appointment, Henry? If you knew I was pregnant, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” I asked, throwing her question right back at her. She bit her lip and looked away. “Rosie, answer the question. If you knew on Saturday, then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because.” Her lip trembled, and I forced her to look at me.
“Because why?”
“I wanted to make sure you still thought I was sexy. I didn’t want to lose you, and I thought if I could be sexy for you, like grip vagina balls all night, then maybe you wouldn’t leave me like I knew you were going to.”
“Why on earth would you think that?”
She gave me a pointed look. “You are either really good at having blue balls or you’re getting your jollies somewhere else. Which one is it, Henry?”
I shook my head, frustrated with her question. I wasn’t going to blow up on her, though. I wasn’t going to freak out over another accusation of me cheating on her. Instead, I took in a calming breath and grabbed hold of her hands.
“I haven’t been honest with you.”
“Oh my God.” Her lip tremble turned into a full-on shake as tears filled her eyes.
Realizing what I said, I quickly backtracked. “I haven’t been honest with you about what’s been going on with my job.” A stray tear fell down her face, and I quickly wiped it away with my thumb. “A few weeks ago, I was offered the opportunity to put in a bid for the Legacy campaign.”
“You did a good job,” she said weakly. “I liked what you did with the condoms.”
I chuckled to myself. “Thank you, love, but that’s not all of it. Eric pulled me into his office and told me if I landed this campaign with Legacy, I would secure a promotion to Director of Social Media Marketing.”
Her head snapped up and wide eyes showed through her tears. “What? A promotion?”
I nodded. “Yes, a promotion. A huge salary increase, which includes bonuses and an actual office, not a cube.”
“Wh-why didn’t you tell me?” Because I was stupid.
“I should have,” I answered honestly. “But at the time, you were a little emotional, umm . . . hormonal, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I had big plans for us if I got the promotion, plans that involved moving out of this city and starting a family.”
“But . . . I don’t understand.”
I gripped her cheek with my hand and rubbed her skin softly, loving the way her eyes still showed how madly in love she was with me. I was one lucky son of a bitch.
“I handled this all wrong. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, and then when I figured out you were pregnant, I was too scared to be intimate with you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything then?”
“Because I wanted to get through this promotion first. I wanted to secure our future.” I paused and took a deep breath. “I wanted to propose to you, and I wanted to do it in a way that you knew I was proposing because I am so fucking in love with you and not because you were pregnant, but I needed the promotion first.”
Rosie’s hand was at her chest in shock. Her breathing was heavier and more tears filled her eyes. Quietly, she asked, “Did you get the promotion?”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “I did.” I nodded and then got down on one knee in front of her.
Both of her hands instantly covered her mouth as more tears fell. Nerves wracked me as I knelt in front of the woman who stole my heart years ago . . . I just didn’t know it until recently.
From my jacket pocket, I removed the ring I purchased only a day ago, and held it out in front of me. Sobs escaped Rosie, and for a brief moment, I worried she’d pass out.
Wanting to hold her, I linked my fingers with one of her hands and took a deep breath. “Rosie, I wish I could say from the moment I saw you, I knew I had to make you mine, but I can’t. I was blinded by our friendship, never truly realizing my feelings for you until I thought I was going to lose you to someone else. The moment I realized I loved you, that I couldn’t go a day without seeing your face, I made it my mission to make you mine. I thought I needed this grand moment to propose to you. I thought I needed to have a good job to provide for you, but after today, I see that doesn’t matter. What matters is the love we share, the love we’ve created, and our little family.” Pausing for a second to gather myself, I looked deeply into her eyes and smiled. “Rosie Bloom, will you make me one lucky man and marry me?”
Between her crying and sniffles, she nodded her head yes, unable to speak.
Elation burst through me, as I slid the ring onto her finger. It was entirely too big, but I didn’t care. She was mine.
We both stood and I pulled her into my chest, kissing the top of her head, joy overfilling me. Her arms wrapped around my waist and she held on to me tightly, not wanting to let go. Through my shirt, I could hear her mumbling, “I love you,” and that made my heart soar.
Needing to see her, I put a miniscule amount of space between us and asked her to look up at me. “Rosie, look at me, love.”
Her beautifully tear-stained eyes met mine, followed by a warm smile.
“I’m sorry, love, for all the confusion. I didn’t want you to think I was proposing because of the baby.”
She laughed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “In my state of hormonal bliss, I probably would have thought that, so I’m glad you explained everything.” She looked at her ring and then back up at me. “You really wanted to propose a while ago?”
I nodded. “I wanted to propose to you the minute I realized I was in love with you. There is no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with, Rosie.”
“You still find me attractive?”
I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it, the scrunch of her nose was too adorable. “Rosie, I find you so fucking sexy that I can’t wait to get you home. The doctor said it was okay to perform normal activities, and I’m pretty sure me pounding into you is a normal activity on our day-to-day schedule.”
Her entire face lit up. “What are we waiting for then?” She pulled on my hand and led me past the pond and out of the park. “I need your penis.”
Chuckling and shaking my head, I responded, “You’re so randy.”
Epilogue
ROSIE
“Can I ask you a question, love?” Henry asked, coming up from behind me and placing a kiss on the back of my neck.
I was nine months pregnant, ornery, uncomfortable, still horny, and ready to click the publish button on my first ever book. I loved Henry so much, more than anything, but the man was grating on my damn nerves. I used him for two things: food delivery and his penis. Anything else, I wanted him to steer clear of me.
“Sure,” I answered him, double-checking everything I’d input when it came to sale price. I was a ball of nerves, unsure if I was ready for this or not. Wolf Shirt Wendy believed I was; she even set me up with her publicist to help me with my release. This was all so surreal.
“Did you like my balls slapping your ass this morning? I thought it sounded like a sweet lullaby.”
I paused mid-click and looked at Henry. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, the waistline of his boxer briefs peeking out and his chest bare. His hair was rumpled to the side and he had a devious smile on his face.
“What kind of disgusting question is that? No one likes the sound of sweaty balls slapping against equally sweaty sex skin.”
Henry laughed. “What? You don’t talk about balls slapping asses in your book?”
“Uh, no. I don’t. I didn’t think it was appropriate.”
“Balls slapping asses are always appropriate.” He kissed my forehead and then knelt down beside me, trying to paint a pretty picture. “You could do some really good stuff with ball slapping. Just think: he holds her hips in his hands, his grip tight, not wanting to miss the intimate connection between them. The room is silent except for the fleshy slap of his balls on her ass.”
“No,” I deadpan. “That is horrific. That’s not sexy at all. You don’t talk about balls slapping, things being moist, vaginas being flappy, or the pungent raw smell of a pounded-out vagina.”
Henry shivered. “I can’t see why not. Pounded-out vagina is always on the top of my list for topics of conversation.”
“You’re gross today and extremely irritating. I suggest you step away from me before I rip this baby out of my uterus and make her slap you.”
“Don’t you turn our baby boy on us. He needs to make his own decisions on how gross his daddy is.”
“Lucky him,” I said sarcastically, knowing I was having a big bitch moment.
I couldn’t help them anymore. When we became engaged, I kept my hormones in check, really tried to make sure I didn’t say or do anything that would make Henry change his mind, but after an onslaught of gross pregnant things that happened to me, he stuck around; therefore, I’d let the bitch out in this last month of pure hell.
Ever see an ankle swell to the size of a cantaloupe? I have, they are attached to the toothpicks I used to call feet.
Peeing your pants? Yup, controlling your bladder when pregnant was next to impossible.
Ill-fitting clothes. Nothing, no matter how hard you tried, fit properly.
Emotional breakdowns over moving to the suburbs with a cat . . . had those.
I didn’t even want to talk about constipation, prune juice, and hemorrhoids. I wouldn’t wish such a thing upon my worst enemies.
“Delaney and Derk should be here soon, love. Want me to get the snacks ready?”
“Mayb
e you should put a shirt on. I didn’t know you were Mike Thurston these days.”
Henry scrunched his nose in confusion. “Who’s that?”
“Ugh,” I wailed, exhausted from his questions. “It’s a book thing.”
“Okay . . .” he drew out, leaving my office for our bedroom.
Life could change so quickly if you weren’t paying attention. One minute, I thought Henry was going to break up with me, and the next, I was engaged, living in a home we’d bought together on the outskirts of New York City, and taking a chance as a full-time author. I left Friendly Felines once Henry showed me his first paycheck. He said he wanted me to focus on my writing and the baby, so that’s what I did. I took the opportunity to make my dream a reality.
The only thing that didn’t change was the presence of Sir Licks-a-Lot. He made the move along with his collection of my torn-up bras he used as half shells to sit in. He now had a laundry room to crap in, and a larger house to destroy. His favorite thing: pushing glasses of water off the table. Cats! If Henry and Sir Licks-a-Lot didn’t have such a bro-mance, I would have found a different home for the feline, but that wasn’t an option.
Despite my hatred for the cat, we’d found a mutual understanding. He stayed on his side of the house, and I stayed on mine. We shared Henry when he got home, but at night, in bed, that was when I bogarted the man. It was an even trade.
Delaney and Derk got married. It was a beautiful ceremony, put on by their parents. I was able to wear an empire-waist dress, thankfully, that didn’t make me look like a whale. Henry, of course, looked sexy as usual in his tailored suit, to the point that I had sex with him in the reception hall bathroom. I had no shame.
Since the proposal, I hadn’t taken a break when it came to being intimate with my man. Every chance I got, I was at him; it was a little much at times, but I blamed the hormones and the cologne he wore: lethal combination.
Henry had been kicking butt with his new job, and funnily enough, had hired Freddy as his assistant, despite his unnecessary bro-cabulary. Freddy was damn good at his job, and now sported his sensitive side. Henry went out to a gay bar with him a few months back, spotted another pumped-up beefcake just like Freddy, and helped him score a date. They weren’t your typical gay couple—if you were into horrible stereotypes—they bonded over weightlifting, protein shakes, and woodworking. They were a fantastic couple I enjoyed having game night with, even though sometimes I could throttle Freddy if he called Henry bro one more time.