Ryann tuned out the rest of what the doctor said, feeling herself grow smaller, like a child being chastised by a parent. Next to the examining table, where she sat, Spencer was paying rapt attention, nodding intermittently, his jaw set, and expression grim. His hands compulsively moved back and forth along his thighs for a few moments, then he seemed to will himself to stop. Instead, he rested a hand on her leg, lightly squeezing.
The rest of the appointment, after Ryann was dressed, was spent in Dr. Billingsley’s office while she shoved various prescriptions across the desk, giving explanations for each one that Ryann neither heard nor absorbed. Spencer took them, and Ryann followed his cue, standing when he did, and walking out of the office with him.
Outside the building, he paused and looked up and down the block, as though searching for something. Sighing deeply, he turned and looked down at her.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“I drove,” Ryann said. “My car is …”
“We’ll get it later. C’mon.” He put an arm around her shoulder then once he had, exhaled again and pulled her into his arms, holding her as closely as he could with the barrier of her distended stomach between them. “I’m sorry,” he said into her hair. “I’m sorry. I said I wouldn’t leave you to do this on your own …”
Ryann looked up, surprised. “You didn’t. I never felt that you’d left me.”
His expression was quizzical, confused.
“I knew you were there. I didn’t see you, but I felt you. I know you never left me.”
Just like when he’d first spotted her in the waiting room, one corner of his mouth quirked upward. But again, he seemed unsure of whether it was okay to smile.
Getting on her toes, Ryann shut her eyes. She only made it halfway, but knew without a doubt that Spencer would close the remaining distance between them.
Ryann was snoring. The loud, deep snores of someone who was completely in the throes of REM sleep. Spencer watched her for a while then went to get something to eat, even though it was well past midnight. He hadn’t been able to eat earlier after they picked up the food from the halal joint on Georgia Avenue. Instead, he watched her eat, feeling his gut twist when she dug into the lamb and rice like someone starved.
According to Dr. Billingsley, she hadn’t been taking in enough calories. And what she took in, or not, the babies took in. Or not. So, they were smaller than they should be, even for multiples. It didn’t make sense to him. If nothing else, Ryann knew how to take care of herself. And she loved these babies, so she would take care of them, too.
Even while they were apart, Spencer hadn’t entertained the thought that she would let herself decline to the degree she had. He thought about her a hundred times a day, wondering whether she had gotten any bigger, whether she felt the babies more, and whether she was thinking about him.
It had only been three weeks, but for a woman who was pregnant, three weeks was an eternity and yet she was visibly thinner. Further along in her pregnancy, and yet carrying much less weight than when he’d seen her last. He showed up at the appointment after Ivy called him, and had been armed with a bad attitude, ready to let Ryann know that no matter what was going on between them, he wasn’t about to be sidelined for anything that had to do with his kids.
But the moment he saw her, that plan flew out the window. Her arms were thinner, her face almost gaunt, and she looked scared. And then she spotted him, and looked so damned happy, he was literally without words and breath. In that moment, he realized he didn’t give a damn what happened in Chicago. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight again.
What the hell had she done that he hadn’t? Except for the final penetrative act, he was just as guilty as she was. And in the final analysis, all they were both guilty of was stupidity for believing that having a kid together could be some kind of bloodless, arms’ length transaction. For some dudes, maybe. And for some women. But not for him, and not for Ryann.
In the kitchen, once he’d portioned out his food, Spencer found he couldn’t sit downstairs to eat it. He needed to be where he could see her. Taking his plate and a bottled water upstairs with him, he sat in the armchair and watched her sleep while he ate. She had stopped snoring, but now was stirring, her legs working under the covers, like she was running in her sleep, or kicking.
Spencer sat forward when she mumbled. Setting aside his plate, he went closer.
“No … no …” she said. “No …”
Touching her lightly on the side of her face, Spencer waited until she quieted. She turned her face toward his hand, like a baby rutting into the breast of its mother. He kept it there until her breaths became deep and long once again.
“Nah, man. Can’t make it today,” Spencer told Tone. “No chance. Sorry.”
“That’ll mess up my whole schedule, Spence. And that’s not peanuts. That’s thousands of dollars. You understand what …”
“I don’t,” Spencer admitted. “And to be honest with you, I ain’t got time right now for you to explain it.”
Normally, he would have avoided talking to his most significant benefactor in this manner; but this morning, Spencer didn’t have the patience for any glad-handing. He lifted the lid off the pot of oatmeal he was making and stirred it. When he was alone, he didn’t bother cooking his oats, just dumped them in a blender with some fruit and almond milk and kept it moving. But Ryann would turn up her nose at that, and he needed her to eat.
Tone exhaled. “I guess I’ll have to take the hit.” He paused, waiting, Spencer guessed, for him to acquiesce. The silence stretched out, and Tone sighed again. “I’ll shoot around you,” he said. “You take care of what you have to take care of. Maybe I’ll see you down here tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” Spencer said, not wanting to make any promises.
Tone’s documentary was still in production, and there was almost never a day when he wasn’t underfoot at the Coalition. He had turned it into his home-base while he shot around the city and in the jails. Greg didn’t complain because he had hired more than a few of the guys, and given some of the staff a taste of the excitement of being part of a Hollywood production.
Spencer had been working three sites, filling in for Jerrell who was still getting his head on straight, so he had avoided much of the hubbub. But now, Tone needed him for an on-camera interview. Regardless, it had to be family first.
Turning off the flame under the oatmeal, Spencer considered whether he should bring it up to Ryann in bed. Deciding against it, he headed up to get her. No point treating her like an invalid when what she needed was to build her endurance up. According to May, she was going to need every bit of that for the delivery. Just the word, ‘delivery’ made his heart race. Every day, he wondered whether he was ready. Whether there was any way to be ready, overnight, for a life that would suddenly involve caring for two infants.
Ryann sat up just as he entered. Her eyes were cloudy, and she looked a little disoriented, but she smiled when she saw him, and then yawned hugely.
“I’m starving,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“Then c’mon let’s eat. I made oatmeal, and can make some eggs and toast as well if you feel up to all that.”
“Uh huh.” She leaned back against the headboard and stared at him.
Spencer smiled, cocking his head to one side. “What’s up?”
“How’d you get to be like this?” she asked. Her voice was just above a whisper.
“Like how?”
“You’ve been through some things,” she said slowly. “Some bad things. And yet … you’re … the best man I’ve ever known. How … why is that?”
She asked the question like she was thinking aloud, rather than expecting an answer. All the while, she was taking him in, looking at him as though he was brand-new.
“C’mon,” he said, extending a hand. “Breakfast.”
“Just need to pee first,” Ryann said. “Wash my face.”
She got off the bed and Spencer took in her shape. Her legs were vi
sibly more slender, and her belly seemed larger because of it. And she moved more gingerly, like someone who needed to be taken care of.
Downstairs they ate in virtual silence. Ryann emptied the bowl of oatmeal Spencer put in front of her, and then a second. When he asked if she wanted toast, she said she did, and ate that too.
Finally, they were sitting at the kitchen table, both of them having finished their meal. Ryann sat there, like she was waiting for him to tell her what to do next. Spencer stood, cleared the table, and washed the dishes. Still, Ryann sat there.
When he was done, he turned to face her again, leaning against the sink.
“I took the day off. D’you need to be at the office?”
She shook her head.
“So, you want to … kick it? You ‘n’ me?” he asked. “It’s been a while since we did that.”
Ryann nodded. “Yeah. It’s been a while.”
“You want to go check out a movie, go to the …”
“Nothing,” Ryann said. “Let’s just do …” She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“You sure you can?” he teased.
“I think I can.” Then she gave him a smile. The first genuine one he’d seen in a long time.
They were very creative with “doing nothing.”
They walked around Spencer’s block, just because.
They saw a dog on their walk, and debated the merits of getting a dog. Spencer, said ‘yes’, and Ryann said ‘no.’ Ryann won the debate.
They went to the hardware store to get a replacement for one of his tools that he’d misplaced. They bought much more than the replacement tool.
They filled her prescriptions at CVS.
They went to the barber to get Spencer a haircut he didn’t need.
They played Scrabble. And Ryann pretended not to be surprised when Spencer beat her. Badly.
They watched a YouTube video that showed how to do pregnancy massage.
They attempted pregnancy massage, and discovered that Spencer was very good at it.
And afterwards, they fell asleep. Ryann was on her side, lying between Spencer’s legs, her head on his chest. His arm was draped across her, his hand warm and comforting on her middle.
Ryann woke up to the realization that she had slept, not only for a long time, but very well. She did not dream, and she was not afraid.
~29~
Her Mercedes was parked in the driveway when they pulled up at Ryann’s house. She snuck a look at Spencer, but didn’t speak. It didn’t surprise her anymore, the way he seemed to think of everything, anticipate her needs, and provide for them before she could think to ask. Vaguely, she remembered him taking her keys and inquiring about the location of the garage before she drifted off to sleep the night of the appointment with Dr. Billingsley. Ryann hadn’t given it any thought beyond that.
It didn’t surprise her that Spencer had, though.
Parking behind her car the engine idling, he turned to look at her.
“If I let you out of here, you promise you’ll stop starving yourself?” he said, a smile teasing the corner of his full lips.
Ryann attempted a smile back. The truth was, she didn’t want to get out of the car. Not unless he was coming with her. Her entire house, her entire life felt close to barren without him in it.
Even with the knowledge of the babies she was carrying, and her eagerness to have them, and meet them, and get to know them, it still felt like something was missing. She used to think that having a baby would make her feel whole. And now, even the prospect of having two hadn’t accomplished that feat. Not entirely.
Clearing her throat, she tried to sound more self-assured than she felt. “I promise,” she said, sticking her chin out.
Brushing a finger against her nose, Spencer nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow, a’ight?”
Nodding, Ryann felt her heart sink.
So this was it. He had given her two nights to make sure she had her head on straight, and with just the barest of assurances that she would eat properly, he was willing to drop her at her doorstep and drive away.
“My keys?” she asked, pausing as she reached for the door handle.
Fumbling in his back pocket, Spencer finally produced them in his open palm. Greg, or someone must have dropped them off during one of the many naps she took. Over the two nights with him, she slept like someone drugged and had difficulty waking up. He could have had a party downstairs and she wouldn’t have known.
Ryann reached for the keys and Spencer’s fingers closed around them.
Lifting her eyes to his face, she saw that he was looking up, that exasperated expression she had become so familiar with etched across his face.
“For real?” he said. “You think I’d just leave?”
“Right now, Spencer … I just … I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t feel up to games like this …”
He nodded. “Good,” he said. He tipped her chin up again so she would look at him. “Finally. Me neither.”
And with that, he shut off the engine, and got out the car, going around to open the door for her.
He came in, just as Ryann hoped he would. He cooked for them, and they watched television together in her bed until she fell asleep.
He didn’t leave her that night, nor the next. Not until she felt strong enough to let him go.
Ryann stood at the full-length mirror in her bedroom and turned sideways, surveying the swell of her stomach. The week after seeing Dr. Billingsley, she had revamped her lifestyle so that her routine now was comparable to that of an athlete training for the Olympics. That is, if an athlete several months pregnant with twins could train for the Olympics.
Just that afternoon, she had Ivy come over in the middle of her work day to help Ryann pull out a long-dormant treadmill from her hall closet and get it set up in the living room. Then they took a trip to Target where she bought a NutriBullet, and a recipe book for healthy smoothies. And finally, she signed up for a meal kit service, choosing the healthiest slate of options, and arranging for delivery of four meals per week.
It would have been overstating things to say that she was feeling energetic, but after taking a week off from the office, she felt capable, once again. It was Wednesday night, and she was planning to go in the next day, to make sure her business hadn’t gone to hell in a handbasket while she luxuriated in Ivy and Spencer’s overbearing attentiveness. She could only imagine how much of a field day Brittainy was having, strolling in to work at ten a.m., taking long lunches and popping gum while she answered phone calls, if she answered them at all.
Ryann had been monitoring email while she was out, and had skimmed one or two that were going to require her immediate attention as soon as she was back, but she felt equipped for all that now. Some of her native confidence was returning. And her confidence in Spencer had only strengthened.
Today was the first day since the doctor’s appointment that he had gone back to work, and that was only because he was falling behind schedule on a job. But now, he was on his way to get her, because his sister, May, had invited them over for a pre-Christmas dinner. The normalcy of a dinner with his family stood in stark contrast to how unsettled things were between them just a week ago. Ryann was determined not to let things go sour again.
Turning left and right, she viewed herself from all angles. She liked looking at her profile, hand on her stomach. Her thighs and legs were fuller, and her breasts were as well, but now, after her almost-week of rest, she was beginning to see the glow in her complexion that people talked about pregnant women having. Contentment didn’t hurt, either.
What did hurt though, was when she stood for more than twenty minutes. She could feel the pressure on her bladder and in her lower back, just as Ivy had warned her weeks ago she would. So, she was going to have to invest in—the horror—more ballet flats, and lay off those high heels that she loved so much. She was still admiring her much-fuller figure when the doorbell sounded.
Grabbing her robe from the b
ed, she muttered a curse and hurried downstairs to answer it. She’d gotten so carried away with looking at herself—not the first time that had happened—that she completely lost track of time.
When she opened the door, Spencer took her in from head to toe and shook his head.
“Fifteen minutes, Ryann. We’re supposed to be over there in fifteen minutes.”
“Then you should have come earlier,” she said, turning away from the door and starting back up the stairs. “And by the way, I left something for you on the kitchen counter.”
“What is it?”
“Go see. I’ll go put on my dress. It won’t take long.”
She chose a powder-blue shift-dress that under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have even sneezed at. But these days, she was growing an appreciation of things that barely skimmed her skin, and felt like pajamas.
“What was that?” Spencer was at the doorway to her bedroom, watching her slide her feet into her flats. “Downstairs.”
“Keys,” Ryann said without looking at him.
“I didn’t see any keys, I was talking about the treadmill.”
Ryann looked up. “You didn’t see the set of keys I left you?” she asked. “They’re keys to the house. I wanted it to be a …”
“Thank you,” Spencer said almost dismissively. “But I was asking about the exercise equipment. What’s that for?”
“For … exercise?” Ryann said confused.
“Nah.” Spencer was already shaking his head. “So you can trip and fall on that shit? Hell nah.”
“I can still walk, Spencer. That’s all it is. Walking. It’s not like I’d try to run, or …”
“So walk on the pavement. Around a track, around the backyard or something. Not on a moving belt where you can …”
“Don’t be stu…”
“Ryann, you’re not using a fuckin’ treadmill when you’re six months’ pregnant, and clumsy as hell.”
“Jeez. Calm down! And I’m not … clumsy! I’m just …”
The Lover Page 29