by J. P. Comeau
“Mmm, what was that for?” I murmured against his mouth.
His forehead fell against my own. “That was for being the most amazing human being I’ve ever come across.”
I blushed. “You keep fueling my ego like that, and you’re going to have an issue with me fitting through that door.”
He chuckled. “Fine by me. Just means I’ll have to get a bigger place with a bigger door.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
He patted my ass softly. “Come on. Let’s get this show on the road. I already know the first story I want to tell you.”
“Tell me while I put the groceries up, then?”
He smiled. “As you wish, beautiful.”
20
Clint
3 months later
My fingers flew across the keyboard as quickly as they could fly. I was eager to get out of the office and whisk Roxy away to our next shopping adventure. I loved parading her around on my arm, especially now that she was starting to show. We were finally at the end of her second trimester, and things were going splendidly. My parents knew about us and had taken her in like family. After having an earnest talk with her father, I got his approval to continue being there for and to support her and the baby. Not that his disapproval would have stopped that. But, having our families work in tandem with one another could only help instead of hinder.
Sometimes, though, Roxy still acted as if she were doing it alone.
I have to get a crib set up in my apartment.
Should I worry about baby-proofing now?
I need a safer car. I’ll never be okay toting our kid around in this thing.
No, no, I can pay for that. It’s not an issue. I’ve been saving up anyway. Might as well put the money to good use.
I mean, I understood Roxy wanting to retain her independence. But, it was almost as if she were preparing for the moment when I left her in the dust. And I didn’t like that one bit. It’s one of the reasons why I enjoyed people seeing us together, whether in the office or out in public. I enjoyed people knowing that she was mine, and I was hers. I enjoyed people seeing her swell with my child and knowing damn good and well I wasn’t going anywhere.
I just needed to convince her of that now.
“Just bring up wanting to move in together,” I murmured to myself.
We were approaching a breaking point for both of us. Because I knew she’d get to a point in her pregnancy where she’d start to nest. At least, that’s what I kept reading. I read anything and everything I could get my hands on about what was changing with her body and happening with her hormones. I tracked every moment of the pregnancy. I even called my guys looking for advice on how to slowly merge mine and Roxy’s life so she didn’t feel as if her independent spirit was being snuffed out by me.
“And… done,” I said.
I slid my pen back into its holder and flipped the files closed. I stood up and packed my things in my briefcase, ready to deliver it all downstairs to the new front desk secretary. She was only here part-time, but it was better than nothing. And she was handy whenever she was around. I locked up my office and made my way toward the elevator, anxious to get to Roxy’s office.
After dropping those files with my new hire in the front lobby, I backtracked down the hallway.
“Roxy?” I asked.
I knocked on her door before I heard her shuffling around.
“Come in. I’m just wrapping things up.”
I opened her door. “Having a good day?”
She sighed. “If you call dealing with a bunch of grumpy, over-muscled meatheads a good day, then sure. It was fine.”
I paused. “Do I need to speak with someone?”
She eyed me hotly. “What? I’m not capable of speaking with them myself?”
“I didn’t mean personally. I meant professionally.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
I furrowed my brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She shoved something inside her desk. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m just hurting a bit today.”
“What hurts?”
“What doesn’t hurt? My feet. My back. My thighs. My elbows. Why do my elbows hurt? I’m not carrying a child in my elbows.”
I chuckled. “Well, hopefully, my plans for this afternoon will help cheer you up.”
She slammed her desk drawer closed. “Say what now?”
I smiled. “I have a surprise for you. Come on.”
“Clint, I really just want to go home.”
“Give me an hour, and then I’ll take you wherever you want. I promise.”
She sighed. “Can we at least get a cinnamon roll on the way there? I was dreaming about them all last night.”
I chuckled. “Whatever you want, beautiful.”
I couldn't help but notice just how exhausted Roxy looked, but I knew better than to bring it up. I wanted to start scaling back her schedule and the hours she worked, but I knew she’d fight me on that, too. I watched her limp over to me, and I wrapped my arm around her. I looked down at her ankles and noticed how swollen they were. Her feet looked like they were crying out for mercy from beyond the seams of her flats. And it made me worried that something bigger might be wrong.
“Roxy, maybe we should--.”
She groaned. “Clint, please stop. Just--just stop.”
I paused. “What?”
“I can’t have you worrying over me with every step I take. I see you staring at my ankles. I know they’re swollen. I know they don’t look good. But, can you at least not stare.”
“I’m not staring because--.”
She pulled away from me. “Cinnamon roll, before you die, please.”
I grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
But, the further we walked, the more her limp grew. The more she waddled instead of strutted. Her hand pressed into the small of her back, and she began to massage it, and it called attention to her shoulders. The way they were hunched over.
I can’t take her shopping like this.
“How about this?” I asked.
She grumbled. “Just pick a plan, Clint.”
I wrapped my arms around her. “Why don’t we get you that cinnamon roll, then go back to your place and order some takeout, yeah? We can rest on your couch, put our feet up. I could make us some milkshakes.”
“Mmm, talk dirty to me.”
I pressed my lips against her ear. “Maybe move the television into her bedroom.”
She groaned. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”
I kissed the shell of her ear. “Come on. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
She gripped my arm. “Wait, wait, wait.”
I paused. “What is it?”
She sighed. “You know my place is an absolute wreck right now, with everything I’m moving around.”
I paused. “What are you moving around?”
“You know, rearranging things to make it more baby-friendly.”
I turned to face her. “You’ve been moving furniture? By yourself?”
She blinked. “I didn’t tell you?”
My eyes grew hard on her face. “No, Roxy. You didn’t tell me you were moving furniture all by yourself while you’re five and a half months pregnant.”
“Well, excuse me for not filling you in on every detail of my life.”
“What in the world are you doing moving furniture around without someone there? You could really hurt yourself.”
She walked to my car door. “Look, there’s a lot of work involved when it comes to turning that apartment into a place fit for a child. I’m sure you’re experiencing the same thing with that bachelor pad of yours.”
I gripped her arm. “You need to take a second to breathe, Roxy. You're overtaxing yourself, and you remember what the doctor said. Whatever you feel, the baby feels? That ringing any bells?”
She shrugged me off. “I’m fine, Clint. I’ve been fine in my life up until this point, and I’m fine now.”
“Why are you so insistent on doing this alone?”
She shook her head. “I’m not going to argue with you.”
Roxy went to open the door, but I closed it with my hand.
“Hey!” she exclaimed.
“Look at me.”
She sighed. “Clint, please.”
“I said, look at me, Roxy.”
She slowly turned around. “What?”
“In my eyes.”
Her eyes raised to meet my own. “What?”
I gazed deeply into her gorgeous stare. “You are not alone in this. You aren’t doing this alone.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“No, really. I know you’re here for me.”
I snickered. “Then, stop acting like I’m going to up and leave at any second. Because whether or not you realize it, that’s what you’re doing. That child is half of me. The responsibility for both of you falls onto my shoulders. And I don’t take that lightly.”
“I’m not some weak-willed woman here, Clint.”
“Did I ever say ‘weak’ in that entire statement?”
She blinked. “No. You didn’t.”
“Good. You’re reading into something that isn’t there. You’re reading into my actions and preparing for the worst, I get that. But you need to stop because I’m a man of my word, and when I tell you that you’re never going to be in this alone, I mean it.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“You’re coming off as generic and cold. What you’re doing doesn’t come off as preparation, but as if you’re pushing me away. Stop it.”
“All right, all right. I hear you, Clint.”
I nodded curtly. “Good. Now, after we pick up food and get settled into my place for the night, we can get on my laptop and do some baby furniture shopping. How does that sound?”
She sighed with relief. “My word, I need to do that so badly. I need furniture for my apartment that I can’t find anywhere at any of the thrift stores I’ve been to.”
I paused. “Since when did you start shopping for baby shit at thrift stores.”
“Do you really want to hash this out? Or, do you just want to keep pushing forward?”
I blinked. “You’re killing me slowly, you know that, woman?”
She giggled. “You know you love it.”
I love you. “Get in the car and quit being crazy.”
“I’m pregnant. Crazy comes with the territory.”
I opened her car door for her. “Don’t I know it.”
I offered her my hand and helped her down into the car, but that word kept rushing through my mind. Love. I loved Roxy. I loved everything about her, from her swollen ankles to her saucy demeanor to the way she bucked up to me instead of simply taking my shit. She was a hell of a woman, but she was also more than that. She was intelligent, classy, brass, and headstrong.
I couldn’t have dreamt up a better mother for my child.
But, something in the pit of my gut was still worried I had stepped in a massive pile of shit. Making things worse, instead of better.
21
Roxy
“Good morning, Clint.”
He chuckled. “At least you finally picked up my phone call.”
I sighed. “I’m so sorry. This weekend has been so busy, and I haven’t had much time to do anything for myself.”
“I understand. Do you have a minute to talk?”
I chewed on my lower lip. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk about the last time we saw one another.”
I snickered. “That’s going to take a bit more than a minute.”
“I know. But, I also know we need to talk. What are you doing this afternoon?”
I lied. “I’ve got some things I’m putting together for the baby.”
“I could come over and help. You shouldn’t be doing those things alone anyway. Especially if you're at risk for getting hurt.”
“I’m pregnant, I’m not sick. I’ll be fine.”
He sighed. “What about tonight, then? I could come over with your favorite dessert, and we could order something.”
“I’m not sure tonight’s a good night.”
“Roxy…”
“Look, Clint. I know we need to talk. But this weekend has been insanely busy. Can we talk over our lunch break Monday?”
“Are we still having those? I wasn’t sure we were.”
I furrowed my brow. “What the hell does that mean?”
He paused. “I’m sorry. That was--.”
“I’m not free today. I’ll see you tomorrow. All right?”
I hung up the phone before Clint could get another word in edgewise. Then, I tossed my phone to the couch. I propped my feet up and popped another caramel-covered popcorn kernel into my mouth, ignoring the state of absolute chaos around me. I’d gotten halfway through rearranging the apartment before I strained my back, so I knew I needed to take a rest. But, the last thing I wanted to do was admit that to Clint. He already thought I was some sort of needy invalid, and I didn’t want to give him any more fuel for that particular fire. Plus, I was still upset with him.
Very, very upset.
I had feelings for that man. Real, genuine feelings. Butterflies took flight in my stomach every time I laid eyes on him. My body sizzled with delight every time his lips touched my own. When he said my name, I wanted to shout ‘Amen!’ to the heavens. Because surely, it was a proclamation of holiness, the sound of my name in his voice.
He was only with me because I was pregnant, though.
That much he made incredibly clear the last time we talked.
“It’s fine. You knew this would happen. It’ll just take a few days apart to get over him. That’s all.”
I sighed as I threw another kernel of popcorn into my mouth. I stared at the blank television I had pulled too far out of its corner to plugin, and I imagined what might be on television. Some news stories about someone dying somewhere. Maybe a nice sitcom show with terrible comedy that made me laugh anyway. Possibly a rerun of one of my crime shows to which I’d been addicted.
No wonder he hasn’t brought up moving in together yet.
The comment about not leaving because this child was also his was only compounded by the furniture comment. I mean, if the man didn’t have feelings for me, no wonder he hadn’t brought up merging our living spaces yet! Lord knows that would be easier with a child in the mix. But, who the hell wanted to live with someone they didn’t love? Or, even like? It hurt like hell, knowing that Clint only tolerated me because we were pregnant.
But, at least I found out before I plunged any deeper into this madness.
It still hurt, though.
“I need a shower,” I murmured.
I sat my popcorn off to the side and resolved myself to a nice, hot shower. But, when I got out and wrapped an extra-large towel around my growing body, I heard my phone chime. I knew exactly who it was, and I resisted the urge to check it immediately. However, after slipping into maternity clothes he purchased for me that still, somehow, smelled a little bit like him, I made my way for my phone.
I found a text from Clint waiting for me.
Clint: Open the front door.
I blinked as I read the words again. And just for good measure, I read them one last time. Holy shit, that text message had been sitting on my phone for at least twenty minutes. Maybe he’d already left?
But, the knock that practically shook my door told me otherwise.
“I can hear you walking around,” Clint said from behind the door.
I swallowed my groan. “Sorry I was getting dressed.”
“I know. I heard the shower going.”
I blinked. “Coming.”
I set my phone down and worked up the urge to finally walk over to the door. I mean, I couldn't just let the man stand there all night, as much as I hated him springing things on me. However, part of me was also comforted that he cared enough about my well-being to come over anyway. Ju
st to check up on me.
He’s just checking up on the baby. You know that.
I pushed the thought away as I opened the door.
“Hey there, gorgeous.”
His cheeky little smile tugged one across my own face. But, the massive bouquet of flowers that took both of his big, strong hands to hold left me breathless. Orchids and roses, like the last bouquet he bought me. The scent alone was intoxicating.
“Where would you like it?” Clint asked.
I sniffed the air deeply. “Anywhere. They smell amazing, and they can go anywhere.”
He chuckled. “May I come in?”
Do I have a choice? “Of course. Yeah, yeah.”
I stepped off to the side and was thankful the flowers were there. Otherwise, I knew he would have tried to kiss me, and I wasn’t sure if I could resist such a temptation. I watched him walk into the kitchen with his strong legs and his chiseled arms undulating with mountains of muscle. I swallowed the drool gathering in my mouth. I shook my head free from the trance he laid over me every single time he walked into a room.
And when he set the flowers down, words I never expected to hear from him fell from his lips.
“I’m so sorry, Roxy.”
I blinked. “Come again?”
He turned to face me. “I’m sorry for what I said the last time we saw one another. You know, Friday afternoon.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He walked slowly toward me. “I know that what I said came out as uncaring. Like I only care about this child and not about you.”
I waved my hand in the air. “It’s fine. I mean, I understood your point and all.”
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you.”
“Clint, please. I just want to--.”
He stood in front of me. “I want to talk some things out. Some things I’ve been holding back for a few weeks now.”
I shook my head. “If anything, you gave me an idea of where we actually stand, and it was the type of reality check I needed. Trust me, you have nothing to be sorry for.”
He took my hand. “I didn’t give you an accurate portrayal of anything.”
I slipped my hand away. “You really don’t have to do this.”