“Right. It’s about sex during the pregnancy… I’m a little afraid to be too… you know…” I awkwardly trail off, waving my hands as I try like an idiot to explain this.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Sarah drops her head back before looking at me again. “Another man who thinks he’s going to hit the baby’s head with his super big monster cock.” Her tone is heavily cynical and I feel a sudden urge to cover my crotch. Sarah rubs her temples before continuing. “The baby is perfectly protected in there. It will feel like nothing more than Annie going for a jog.” She drops her hands and stares hard at me. “If Annie wants to go to pound-town, take her to fucking pound-town.”
“Oh…” I’m taken aback slightly at her brash choice of words, but I’m thankful for the advice none the less. “Okay, great. Thanks…” Now how do I get out of here?
“Let me tell you something, Tyler…” Sarah goes on as she yanks open one of the freezer doors and grabs a pint of ice cream. She takes a look at it before chucking it in her cart and reaching for another. “Hormones are a special kind of crazy that can rain chaos on a pregnant woman. The second trimester can be a seriously horny and needy time,” she yammers on, chucking yet another pint in her cart. “And since you’re seeking my professional opinion…” she reaches for another pint and chucks it in to join the others. “I think not giving a pregnant woman what she wants in bed should be a reportable crime!” Okay, that opinion sounds more personal than professional, but I know better than to open my mouth right now. More pints go sailing into her cart. “I swear, I’ve told an endless line of expectant fathers that sex, even the rough variety, is not only perfectly safe, but necessary! It’s not a want, Tyler. Oh no, it’s a need. Annie needs this. Just like I needed it!”
Oh no… no don’t take me down this road with you, please…
“When your own wife, an OB surgeon is telling you its safe to give her a good ramming, that’s your cue to listen and attend to…”
La la la la la… I try to tune out as I subtly nod along and decide to check out what crazy flavor Ben and Jerry’s have come up with now.
“What’s the matter Tyler?” she snaps, bringing my attention back to her. “You can share, but I can’t?” Okay, I didn’t quite share so much as asked, and plus…
“Well… you’re the doctor…and, never mind,” I nervously mumble as I look anywhere but her eyes out of fear that she’ll suck out my soul. This is like a completely different Sarah than the kind sister of Jack’s I’ve known over the years. This is like her scorned, pissed-off alter ego that’s badly in need of a good lay, followed by a long nap.
She lets out a heavy sigh and chucks one last pint in her cart. Okay, I think she got all thirty-one flavors.
“Seriously Tyler. Go home and give her the fucking she wants. Do it for pregnant women everywhere…” Her voice has taken on an eerily quiet and solemn tone.
“Got it,” I clip out as I turn and start booking it out of the freezer aisle.
“Tyler!” she calls out after me, and I turn in time for her to chuck a pint of Moose Tracks at me, which I catch in a snag that would put Rob Gronkowski to shame before turning and continuing towards check-out.
After telling Hank to shove it after he eyes the ice cream and asks if I’m headed to a slumber party, I race to Annie’s house on a mission.
Using my key, I let myself if in and stalk to the freezer to put away the ice cream. What I’m about to do for her won’t mean shit if she comes out here later and finds a melted mess on her counter.
“Annie?” I call out after shutting the freezer and start walking towards her room.
“In the bedroom!” she calls. Perfect. I stalk in to find her freshly showered and wrapped in a towel. I close the distance and pull her to me, boring my eyes into her.
“You want to be fucked?” I ask and she gasps. “You want me to fuck you?”
Her eyes are wide and she gets breathless as she nods at me. I jerk her towel away before reaching behind me to tug off my shirt. I briskly turn her around and lean her over to place her hands on the mattress before reaching down to undo my jeans.
“Hang on tight honey,” I warn before giving her dewy shoulder a bite.
She drops her head back in relief. “Oh, thank God…”
27
The nesting bug has officially kicked in. Here I am, a few weeks and a plumper belly later, going crazy in the spare bedroom, trying to figure out how it can double as a nursery and a photo studio. It can’t.
Maybe I can cordon off part of the living room for shoots… or I could build a shed in the back yard. The hard work would be good for me. How much do I really need my bathroom?
I’m going bananas moving around props, back drops, and furniture from one side of the room to the other. Then I go a step further, measuring everything and writing it down in a notebook so that I can assess the space I’ll need in an alternate location. And holy shit, I didn’t realize how much dust had been accumulating. I head to the hall closet to pull out the broom and some other cleaning supplies.
I’m totally stressing over what to do about this space and what I’m going to do with my business, and am furiously scrubbing away at the window sill when I hear:
“What the hell happened in here?”
Oh. Tyler’s awake.
I look over my shoulder to see him standing in the doorway with an arm resting on each side of the frame. Aww, he’s so cute and rumpled in the morning with his eyes barely half open.
I blow out a defeatist sigh through my lips.
“This has to be the baby’s room at some point, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with my studio space.”
His sleepy eyes look to the ceiling for a minute like he’s trying to kick-start his brain for the day, before shuffling his body to lean on one side of the frame. Something’s coming. I can tell. I can see on his face that he’s just trying to find a way to say it. Which is reasonable, seeing as how he’s been awake for all of twenty seconds.
“I think we should revisit living together.” His thought comes out plain and husky. I suck in a breath through my teeth.
“Tyler… we haven’t been together very long. That sounds awful fast for a guy who has only recently decided to pursue a relationship.”
“We have a slightly different circumstance going on than your average new relationship, don’t you think?” He sniffs, and I think it’s adorably sexy that he always wakes up slightly congested. I have issues.
“Well, yeah…”
“And I live in a studio apartment…” he gently prods on.
“You live in a studio?” I repeat. “Oh my God, we’ve been together for two months and I’ve never seen where you live.” I shake my head and roll my eyes.
He shrugs, like this is a no-brainer.
“Let’s change that.” With that, he turns and heads back to the bedroom. About thirty seconds later, he re-emerges fully dressed. “Let’s go.”
“To your apartment?” I ask like a slow idiot.
“Yeah. Where else?”
“Well, hang on. You’re saying you want to live together, and move my studio to your apartment.”
“I want to, yeah. But it also makes a lot of sense. It will put us under the same roof as the baby,” he starts holding up fingers to demonstrate a list of benefits he’s clearly thought about. “Neither one of us will be paying anything more for rent than we already are, and you’ll have a slightly bigger and more private studio. I mean come on, I know this has been working for you just fine,” he waves his hand at the tiny room. “But the apartment has more space for you to work with, which could give you more options with your shoots.”
Okay. Solid argument. Full of pros I might add. But we have to consider one thing. I draw in a breath to gear up to say what I don’t want to point out.
“Ty, what if it doesn’t work out with us?”
He drops his head back and closes his eyes for just a second before quickly composing himself to address my concern.
&nb
sp; “While I don’t even want to consider that possibility,” he begins as he slowly starts strutting across the room towards me, “for arguments sake, if it doesn’t work out, don’t you think it’s better we find out now?” I lift a shoulder as I look up at him curiously. “And if it doesn’t, you could still keep the apartment as your studio, because,” he raises his voice slightly when I open my mouth to protest, “I’d want to look for a different place anyway, like a house. I’d want the baby to stay over with me some nights and that apartment isn’t very suitable. What it is suitable for, is a studio space for a photographer.”
Oh. Well shit, that actually makes a lot of sense. I press my lips together and give him a tentative smile, still afraid of one thing. He’s never committed to anyone before me, let alone lived with them. He’s never wanted to. What if we completely settle into a life together and one day, he remembers this isn’t his thing and he wants to run free again?
“Ty, I don’t know. I mean, it sounds like a great idea… right now. I mean, things are still good, and blissful, so it’s easy to think everything will work out just fine with us living together, but… how do we know how we’ll deal when things aren’t going so great? We haven’t even had our first fight yet. We have no idea how we’ll handle things like that yet,” I reason, holding my hands out trying to emphasize my point.
“Fine. Dirty Dancing sucks, Mr. Meowgi is a demon from hell who I swear is secretly plotting my murder and I think you secretly love crushing potato chips on your ice cream but you’re embarrassed and so are just passing it off as a craving.”
I step back and look him up and down in disgusted confusion.
“What the fuck?” I exclaim. “How dare you! And where did all that shit come from anyway?”
“It was time to stop pretending and get my true sentiments out in the open,” he returns with a bored expression.
“I totally saw you sneak a bite of my ice cream the other night and I could tell you liked it,” I raise a finger, challenging his accusations. “And how dare you knock one of the most classic romance movies of all time! And Mr. Meowgi… okay, fine. He’s kind of an ass, but you’re kind of being one too all of a sudden!”
“You’re right. None of this was called for, and I apologize,” he says, placing his hands on my hips. “There, we had our first fight. You happy now?”
“Very funny,” I tilt my head at him. “But what happens if we really start to fight? What if we’re like you’re parents, because you’ve made in abundantly clear you don’t want any of that in your life.”
“Annie,” both his eyes and his voice soften. “I know I have no way of knowing, but I just don’t think we’ll be like that. And who knows how long we’ll go before we fight? It could be a year from now, and our little girl could be missing out on living with both her parents.”
Wow. Way to lay on the guilt. The thing is, he has a point. In fact, everything he’s had to say makes so much sense… which scares me even more.
“Look,” I stammer as I bring my hands up to run through my hair. “Can I just think on it? Just for a day or two? Even if it is the most sensible idea, it’s still a big step -,”
“I gave you time to think about even being with me, Annie.” A shadow comes down over Tyler’s eyes. “I was okay with it because I understood your misgivings, but when you told me you were ready, I really thought you were abandoning all that doubt and finally fully trusting me.” He’s not yelling, but his voice is getting slightly deeper, heavy with emotion. “But here we are again, and I’m something you still need to think about.”
My mouth parts in protest but no words come out. He lets go of my waist and scrubs a hand over his face. The defeat I see in the gesture slays me.
“Alright,” he tells me, all of a sudden looking anywhere but my eyes. “You take your time. Think… whatever,” he shrugs, backing out of the room and I feel the disconnect on more than one level, making my heart hurt as he turns and walks out of the room.
“Ty, don’t go,” I plead as I pad behind him, holding my arms around myself, wanting and needing it to be his arms instead.
“Why?” he challenges as he shrugs into his jacket before snatching his keys up off the entryway table. “You need time to think. I’m giving it to you. I have to get some shit done at the bar anyway.” Everything about his tone says he’s checked out, and I hate it.
“Please Ty, I want to work this out,” I protest again, thinking it’s useless. And then he turns and walks over to me.
“When the hell are you going to realize that you can trust me with this?” He asks, placing his hand on my chest where my heart is. Fuck. That’s an emotional punch to the junk. He slowly drops his hand and turns back, heading out the door without another glance.
Dammit. This sucks more than anything that has ever sucked before.
I hear a sudden purring and feel soft fur brushing against my legs, barely taking notice of Mr. Meowgi weaving through my legs like a smug little asshole. Douche.
I feel the hurt and loneliness of Tyler’s exit settle over me, and all I can think about is how badly I want him to come back. I want him here. I’m hit so hard with the realization of how wrong it feels that he’s not. All of a sudden, I hate that his things aren’t here and that he’ll likely not come back here when he’s done with work, and I’m cursing myself for that stupid moment of hesitation that I had to have when he was standing right in front of me, trying to tell me that everything would be okay.
I need him back here to tell me that again, and I need to say it to him. But he left, and I’m overwhelmed with what that means. Did he just leave the interaction or… me?
One thing he made clear is that he’s not up for talking things out, and I hang on to every hope that that’s just temporary and situational. I’m hoping that after a while, maybe he’ll cool down and want to talk.
Needing to distract myself from the dreadful possibility of that not being the case, I huff and turn back to the spare room, determined to busy myself and take my mind off of all this.
While I know Tyler doesn’t want a relationship like his parents, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind being like Ken and Maureen right now. It may get heated and even a little nasty, but… no one leaves.
I spend the rest of the day taking down and clearing out everything that makes this room a photo studio, not caring for the moment what I will do for shoots, and just doing everything I can not to think about how much I miss Tyler.
A few hours later, I call it on the reorganizing and cleaning. I actually got a lot accomplished. The room is pretty much cleared out and all of my equipment is moved to a corner of the living room. The clear room looks ready for a baby to move in, which inspires me to get on the internet and look at nursery décor while trying to pay no mind to the fact that Tyler hasn’t called.
I’m in the kitchen making a snack when the pain hits. A dull ache in my lower back and I don’t think I blink before it starts to hurt down low in the front too. I groan and try to rub the spot on my back that’s aching. It intensifies by the second, and not knowing what else to do, I shuffle carefully to the living room to sit. I start to worry as the pain grows stronger, wrapping all the way around my lower back and abdomen. I rub my belly, poking in different places and my good little girl immediately responds, giving me plenty of kicks. I blow out a sigh of relief that is quickly replaced by a moan that I can’t help when the pain reaches another level.
“You okay in there?” I say out loud as I keep rubbing my belly. I have a feeling in my bones that she’s okay, but it couldn’t hurt to let her hear my voice, just in case. And on some level, I may be trying to comfort myself. “I don’t know what’s going on little girl, but… this really hurts.” My voice cracks and I’m feeling a little ridiculous, crying and wincing in pain and talking to my belly.
When the pain refuses to subside after twenty minutes, I know I need help. I need Tyler.
“I think we should call Daddy,” I say out loud, my voice straining as I reach for my
phone.
I don’t know what the fuck this feeling in my chest is, or what to do about it. It’s yet another unfamiliar sensation I’m experiencing since Annie came into my life, only this one sucks. It’s like cold fire deep in my gut. This is one of the emotions I had no idea I was sparing myself from all those years I spent relationship-less, and I don’t know how to make it go away except to just keep moving. It takes a vigorous gym session and a few hours of running around the bar helping with anything I can before it gets too people-y, and I retreat to my office to finally try to confront it.
I sit back in my chair and close my eyes, letting the quiet settle over me while I try to sort things out in my head.
I love Annie. I love our baby girl too, and I want what’s best for her. But more than that, I hate the nights I sleep alone in my apartment. It feels wrong, cold and uncomfortable. My evenings, nights and mornings with Annie feel good; they feel right.
I try to think like her for a moment. She almost lived with someone who couldn’t even get his shit moved in before cheating on her, and she gave him two years. She’s been with me, technically only two months, and not too long ago I led a very commitment-free lifestyle. I can kind of see where that would make her leery of us living together, but I also feel like I’ve done a complete one-eighty, showing her that I will do everything in my power not to hurt her and that I have zero interest in being a playboy ever again. I want her and our baby and that’s it. The fact that she’s still even the slightest bit unsure frustrates me and… kind of hurts. Something I’ve never felt from a woman. I didn’t know what to do with it so I ran away from it as fast as I could. On one hand, taking some time to myself feels like it’s helping, but on the other… I know something’s not right about what I did.
While the quietness is preferable to the noise and movement I was immersing myself in before, I feel like I need a sounding board. I need advice. Another first. And since every other guy I know is a young employee, a horny bachelor, or my dad, that leaves one person for me to call that I can talk to about this sort of thing.
Picture Us (Turn it Up Book 3) Page 21