Forever with You

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Surprised flickered through me. “You saw that?”

  “Yeah, when I got up to get the water. I’m observant like that.”

  “Wow,” I murmured.

  “It also could’ve been because I noticed that bikini picture first,” he admitted, and I laughed. “I mean, come on, who wouldn’t notice that?”

  “Wow,” I repeated.

  “Somehow I think your second wow was less impressed.”

  I laughed again, and while the seriousness of the conversation was like a third entity in the bedroom, I felt my lips curve into a broader smile. “You can’t stay the night, can you?”

  “I fucking wish. I’ll need to leave by three,” he said, his hand moving back down, closing around my hip. He squeezed. “I don’t like to keep Kira there too late if she has to head home.”

  “Understandable.” I paused, knowing we only had a few hours left. “Are you hungry or anything?” I asked.

  “No. You?”

  I shook my head and was glad we weren’t getting out of bed right now. I wanted to soak up the moments with him before he had to leave. It felt good having this conversation with him. We weren’t just scraping each other’s surfaces anymore. This was . . . this was real, and we were digging deep, going beyond the initial layers.

  Nick shifted suddenly.

  I squealed when he threw the comforter off us and cold air washed over my skin, spreading goose bumps. His body quickly replaced the source of heat, and I wasn’t complaining when he nipped at my neck.

  “Come to think of it,” he said, those lips traveling over my throat and then down, “I am hungry. For breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?” I asked as his lips coasted over the swell of my breast. When his tongue got involved, I so got it. Throwing back my head, I laughed loudly, and that laughter quickly turned into gasps and moans, but that smile . . .

  That smile didn’t leave my face.

  Chapter 21

  As the time drew closer to my first real pregnancy appointment, the more nervous I became. It wasn’t a normal nervousness. More like being excited and anxious all at once. The feeling made me want to eat things. Lots of things.

  Actually, I pretty much just wanted to eat things in general.

  And I seriously didn’t think it had anything to do with being pregnant. It was like my head was using being pregnant as an excuse to eat everything in sight.

  I’d finagled a long lunch for the day of the visit and I spent the better part of Wednesday morning trying not to eat the last Reese’s pumpkin or punch Rick in the nuts. Every time he passed my desk, he was staring me down like he was either picturing me topless or my head exploding.

  When it rolled around to the time for me to leave, I locked my computer and stood, grabbing my jacket from where I had it folded and stashed, along with my purse. As I turned around, pushing my chair in, I saw Brock walking toward Marcus’s office. I immediately looked for Jillian, because whenever I saw him, she wasn’t far behind. Last week, when he stopped into the offices, she was with him, almost like his little shadow, but today he was alone.

  And he did look slightly better. Last week, dark blemishes under his eyes marked his exhaustion and he’d seemed paler than normal, but today he appeared a little more like himself, with the exception of the sling his right arm was in. Although his arm wasn’t injured, it helped keep the chest wall muscles stable.

  “Hi,” I greeted him as I shoved my arms into my jacket. “How are you doing?”

  Brock gave me a tight-­lipped smile. “Hanging in there. You?”

  “Good. I’m heading out to lunch.”

  He stopped in front of the door to Marcus’s office and looked over his shoulder, the movement awkward and stiff. “You meeting up with Nick?” The mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes.

  Good God, I felt my cheeks start to heat as my heart did a funny little dance in my chest. I couldn’t even say that was new or wonder what the hell was up with it. Every time I saw Nick or thought of him, I got all fluttery, and I was just going to fully embrace that flutter at this point, because it wasn’t going anywhere. At all.

  “I have a doctor’s appointment,” was all I said, because that was all Marcus knew, and I was pretty positive that the news of our impending parenthood hadn’t made its way back to Brock.

  “Ah, the doctor’s,” he said, reaching for the door. “I’m beginning to hate that word.”

  “Understandable.” I buttoned up my jacket. “See you later.”

  Since my doctor’s appointment was between Plymouth Meeting and the city, Nick was meeting me there. The drive wasn’t too bad once I got out of the city, and I made it to the office with about fifteen minutes to spare.

  As soon I stepped out of the car, the doors on another car parked a few spaces down opened and Nick stepped out. The flutter was there, like a butterfly was darting around inside my rib cage.

  My throat was suddenly dry as I stopped in front of my car and waited for him. As he came into complete view, my gaze did a slow drift over the long length of him. I doubted there was a time that Nick didn’t look good, but today he was absolutely stunning. I don’t know what it was about the dark denim jeans and the black vee-­neck sweater that got my girlie parts all kinds of happy, but I was wondering if we had time for a quickie before the appointment.

  “Hey,” Nick said, dipping his head and kissing the corner of my lips. Ever since I told him about the whole not kissing thing, he’d made it a point to kiss me. A lot. I wasn’t complaining. Reaching down, he took my hand in his. “You ready?”

  I nodded as I held up the questionnaire that had been mailed to me. My entire life history was on those pages. “I’ve done my homework.”

  “When? This morning?” He started toward the entrance.

  Grinning, I let him guide me across the parking lot. “No.”

  “Last night after I left?”

  I laughed. “Maybe.” When he squeezed my hand, the flutter started all over again. “It almost took me an hour. Whoever is going to read this thing is going to know me better than my mom does.”

  Nick chuckled as we approached the doors. Turkeys created out of construction paper adorned the glass. The creators had used the finger-­as-­feathers technique, and my stomach did a little tumble, because at some point something similar would be tacked to the fridge.

  I simultaneously wanted to cry and laugh, jump around and throw myself on a bed.

  Checking in was a breeze, and as we took our seats in the warm waiting room, I looked around. Pregnant women everywhere. Which was expected, but I was sure I’d never seen so many pregnant ladies in one place before.

  And all different stages of pregnant.

  A blonde across from me had a tiny bump that stretched her pale blue sweater. There was a brunette near the check-­in window who looked like she was halfway through the pregnancy, her cheeks flushed prettily as she scribbled on a notepad. Next to me was a woman who looked like there was a good chance she might give birth right in the middle of the waiting room.

  Her stomach was the size of two basketballs.

  Nick leaned over and whispered, “Okay. This is going to sound weird, but I’m picturing you with a belly like that, and I find that kind of hot.”

  I turned toward him slowly and started to grin. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” he winked. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Why?” I whispered.

  One side of his lips kicked. “Because it will be my baby . . .” He placed his hand on my stomach, over the jacket. “ . . . in here, and holy shit, that’s a huge turn-­on.”

  Oh. Oh. Wow.

  I looked away from him as another woman sat beside the one who was still rubbing her distended belly. The newcomer could be a contender for who was going to pop out a baby first. The two immediately started chatting; they obviously knew one anothe
r, and I tried not to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help it.

  “How’s the swelling, Lorraine?” the newcomer asked.

  She shifted, wincing as she barely lifted her leg. My gaze dropped to her feet—­holy crap—­her feet. They were so swollen she was wearing flip-­flops and it was like forty degrees outside.

  Yikes.

  “It’s gotten better,” she replied.

  What? That was better? I quickly looked away as the other woman started talking about how she had to take her wedding ring off. Nick leaned back, extending his arm along the back of my chair. The blonde across from us was joined by her boyfriend or husband, and he and Nick did some kind of weird male head nod at one another. I glanced around and saw the brunette openly staring at Nick.

  My lips pursed.

  “This is the last one, I swear,” Lorraine, the heavily pregnant woman, said to her friend. “If Adam thinks he’s getting another baby out of me, I will castrate him myself.”

  Nick pressed his lips together as his gaze flipped to the ceiling. “Ouch,” he murmured.

  Discreetly, I elbowed him and his lips twitched. Turning his head toward me, he dipped his chin and kissed my temple. Swollen feet and castration forgotten, the fluttering turned into a waltz. The brunette watching him sighed.

  We didn’t have to wait too long until we were called back and ushered into a room, and then the questions began—­the same damn questions I’d procrastinated in answering were asked, and thank God Nick was there, because I was pleased when he also got the third degree.

  How were my periods? And that was awkward to talk about with Nick staring at the door. What about my habits? Any known genetic disorders? Were we interested in genetic testing?

  Unsure, I glanced at Nick, who was sitting on one of the small plastic chairs. “What . . . what do you think?”

  “I think it wouldn’t hurt.” He stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. “I say let’s do it.”

  “All right,” I agreed, resisting the urge to swing my feet from where I was perched.

  The nurse smiled. “We can take the blood here for the rest of the tests, but lab results won’t be back for a few days.”

  And the questions began once again. Have I been pregnant before? What medication was I taking, and a million and two more questions. When she was finally done, I wondered if she was as exhausted as I was.

  “Dr. Connelly can do an ultrasound today if you like, along with the initial exam, and she’ll try to get a picture of the baby.”

  My heart toppled over itself. “Yes. I would like that.”

  “Let’s get some blood drawn and get this show on the road,” the nurse said.

  As she went about her business, I couldn’t help but grin, because Nick suddenly found something very interesting on the floor to stare at. Only when she finished taking half of my blood supply and handed over the gown did Nick look up. He appeared a bit green around the gills.

  “Dr. Connelly will be in shortly,” the nurse said, closing the door behind her.

  Nick’s gaze moved from the door to me, his brows rising with interest. “Is this the part where you get naked?”

  Hopping off the table, I slipped out of my heels. “Is this the part where you try to pretend like you weren’t about to pass out earlier?”

  He tipped his head back against the wall, eyeing me through lowered lashes. “Needles give me the willies.”

  “Willies?” I shook my head as I began to undress. “Isn’t that what little boys call their dicks?”

  “If that’s the case, then what I’m seeing right now makes my willy very happy.”

  “Oh my God.” A laugh burst out of me. “Maybe you coming here wasn’t a good idea.”

  A slow smile graced his lips. “Coming here was a great idea.”

  Undressing and putting on the papery gown was an experience. It took a lot to convince Nick that I didn’t need his help, but even though he stayed seated, the heated gaze that tracked my movements felt like a physical caress.

  While we waited for the doctor, we chatted. I told him that I’d seen Brock today, and he talked about a show he’d stumbled across in the middle of the night on the History Channel and that he now wanted to marathon the season. I liked this—­the idle conversation—­and it was like this every time I’d seen him since Halloween night.

  On the nights he had off, he came over or we went out and had dinner. Every time we talked, and each night we got to know each other a little better. We were continuously peeling back the layers.

  And there was more between him and me. A lot of skin-­on-­skin time. Or skin against clothes. Or just the removal of the necessary clothing. Like the night on Halloween, it felt different each time, felt like more. Definitely not about two ­people getting off.

  When Kira was with his grandfather, he stayed the night. And last Saturday he’d surprised me by coming by after work. I’d been half asleep when I let him, in and that night there was little conversation. Nick had lifted me up as soon as he closed the door behind him, and he had us skin-­to-­skin within minutes. The sex . . . the way he had pinned me against the headboard, had spread my legs and . . .

  God, he . . . he took me like he was insatiable, like he thirsted for me, only me.

  My mind was fully in a place where it shouldn’t be when Dr. Connelly came in, and then I felt about seven levels of awkward. Somehow, with the slight grin on Nick’s face, I felt like he knew where my head had gone.

  Jerk.

  Dr. Connelly appeared to be in her fifties. Brown hair peppered with gray was pulled back in a neat bun at the base of her neck. Fine lines reached out from the corner of her eyes and mouth. She looked like she smiled a lot, and I immediately liked her.

  The appointment reminded me of a normal gynecologist visit until we got to the point the ultrasound was brought into the picture. By then Nick had scooted his butt closer to the table and was staring avidly at the screen as Dr. Connelly moved the handle. A lot of black and gray . . . blobs were moving on the screen.

  “There you go,” Dr. Connelly said. “Your little bun loves the camera, because we got a clear image of it.”

  My gaze darted from her to the screen. Uh . . . I had no idea what I was looking at. “You see it?” I asked Nick.

  He was leaning forward. “Yeah, I think I do.” Stretching, he ran his finger around what sort of looked like a lima bean. “Right there, right?”

  Dr. Connelly nodded. “There it is.”

  What in the hell? I shot him a look. He could see it and I couldn’t? I glanced at the doctor, who was smiling broadly at him like she wasn’t immune to Nick. “I don’t see it.”

  “That’s common,” she said, and the screen stilled. The picture was taken. “It doesn’t really look like a baby right now. It’s still so small, but the little bun is in there. Believe it or not, fingers are moving and so are the legs.”

  “Really?” I asked, my eyes widening.

  She nodded as she started to pull away from the table. “The fingers are slightly webbed at this stage.”

  Nick grinned at that.

  “And cool little fact for you,” Dr. Connelly said. “The baby’s taste buds are actually forming already.”

  “Wow,” I whispered, floored as I stared at the screen. There were other things on the screen, dots and lines and numbers, but I focused on the blur that Nick had so easily seen. The longer I stared, I sort of saw it, and it was so incredibly tiny.

  My throat clogged and I cleared it. Without having to say a word, Nick reached over and folded his hand over mine. He squeezed. “You find it yet? Or do we need to draw a circle around it with a bunch of arrows?”

  “Jerk.” I laughed hoarsely. “I think I see it. Looks like a lima bean, right?” My gaze moved to Nick’s and was stuck, held by the softness in those light green eyes. “That’s what it looks
like?”

  Nick nodded.

  “The baby looks like a lima bean,” I told him, fighting a grin.

  “Yeah, but it’s our lima bean,” he said.

  My lips curled up at the corners and I nodded. Yeah, it was our lima bean.

  Chapter 22

  Because I was a cornball of epic proportions, I’d tacked the sonogram on the fridge with a heart-­shaped magnet. Sort of like when I was a kid and my parents displayed my grades. I mean, they were proud of my grades and I was proud of the lima bean.

  Nick was coming over in the afternoon. Things had been rough with his grandfather the week after the prenatal appointment, so I hadn’t seen a lot of him, and I missed him.

  God, I really did miss Nick.

  When he wasn’t around, I thought about him at the oddest moments. Seeing certain things reminded me of him. Fresh, crisp scents made me think of his cologne. When something happened at work or if Roxy or Katie said something funny, I couldn’t wait to tell Nick.

  Relationships were weird like that, I decided.

  A twinge of unease formed. Relationships were also tricky. No labels had been tossed around. He didn’t call me his girlfriend, and vice versa, but what we were doing felt like that. Except I still hadn’t met his grandfather and he hadn’t met my mom.

  My mom would really like him. Based on everything I’d told her, about his grandfather and everything, she already did, and while I knew his grandfather wouldn’t know who I was, I still wanted to meet him.

  I still wanted more.

  Was that what falling . . . in love felt like? I sighed. I imagined that it was what it felt like when you weren’t sure if the other person felt the same way. Actually, I knew that was what it felt like.

  I held out waiting for the perfect guy—­the perfect relationship. I never fell for anyone I’d been with. Guys who had no baggage I knew of. Guys who were already firmly seated in their careers. Ironically, it was the most imperfect situation and imperfect guy who was capturing my heart.

  Who had captured my heart.

  I just didn’t know where Nick stood in this. Yes, he cared about me. I could tell in the way he talked to me. Yes, he wanted me. That was obvious. Yes, he was making plans with me. Those plans centered around the baby. His words lingered in the back of my head.