Page 54 of Never Really Mine
“Ha ha,” he laughs humorlessly and then gives me a playful scowl. He stands, taking in the mess of gift wrapping and packages around me. “What is all this anyway?”
“Do we need to get Dr. Ness to check your memory at the next appointment?” I joke. “Christmas presents, Beau. Remember?”
“I know that,” he scoffs. “I mean why are there so many?” He gestures to the piles in front of me.
I shrug, feeling a touch embarrassed. “I went a bit overboard for both of our parents, but that’s just because I love them so much, and I needed to get them presents from the babies.”
“Fromthe babies?” he asks incredulously. His brows raise and he pulls his long hair into a bun. “Mar… they aren’t here yet.”
“I know that. I just… I wanted them to be excited. It’s not much, just a lot of little things.”
“Did you get everyone presents from the babies?”
I hold my breath, anxious to reply, but I think he takes that as my answer.
“You did, didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t help it!” I squeal. “And of course I had to get Lennie some extra things, since this will be her last Christmas as the only grandchild. She needs to feel the love.” I gesture to the small—okay large—pile of things for Lennie. I made sure to get her everythingbuttoys. Books, coloring pencils, crafts, movie tickets for just us two. Things that won’t break in twenty-four hours or send Jason into a fit of silent rage at me when he finds out the toy makes a screaming noise, or something like that.
“She does feel the love.” Beau tries to bargain with me, but it’s already done.
“It’s happening, so you can either help me put all this in the car, or you can watch your pregnant girlfriend struggle herself.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I freeze, my face heating in pure mortification. “I, uh—” I stammer, trying to correct myself. Shit, shit, shit. Why did I say that? I’m not his girlfriend.
“You name it, and I’ll do it, butterfly.”
I don’t reply, silently relieved that Beau isn’t going to make a big deal. I nod, focusing my attention back to finishing the last few packages. Beau takes my silence as an answer, grimacing slightly as he heads back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.
Crap.
“Look,”I say, pointing to my feet sitting currently perched up onto the ottoman. “I’ve spent most of the day off my feet, and they’re still swollen. I’ve got cankles.”
Gramps chuckles next to me. “Now, kiddo, you haven’t seen swollen until you’ve seen these ankles.” With great effort,Gramps uses his pant leg to lift his leg up next to mine on the ottoman. He shifts his leg, tugging his pant leg up to reveal his tight, knee-high, white stockings. “Now,theseare swollen.”
I can’t help but giggle. Gramps isn’t technically my real grandpa, but he is in a sense. Our two families have always considered each other as more than just friends, and now, with my pregnancy, we will actually be connected by blood. Not that it matters. Family is family, no matter if you’re blood or not.
“I think those are a good look for you, Gramps,” I tease. “You’re going to walk during the next fashion week, aren’t you?”
“You know it, kiddo.” I love that even at thirty-two years old, he still calls me kiddo. It makes me think of a time when things were easier. When I wasn’t pregnant with my best friend’s baby. Or when I just accidentally referred to myself as his girlfriend, when I know I can’t be, when I know I need to keep a distance.
“Can you feel ‘em kickin’ yet?” Gramps asks, poking a gentle finger at my belly.
I rub my hand over my bump affectionately. “Not yet, but probably in a few weeks.”
“Hmm,” he mumbles. “So, you still giving my grandson a run for his money?” He nods his head toward Beau, leaning against the countertop. He has a pale gray sweater on and is drinking a glass of punch.
“Always,” I reply. Though if anything, Beau is giving me a run formymoney. I’m losing stamina. You know what they say about the second trimester of pregnancy, right? Horny. All the sex dreams. All the porny thoughts every time Beau walks in my front door, or steps out of the bathroom in only a low slung towel over his hips. I swear to god, I almost propositioned him to play a pizza delivery boy the other day when he walked in the door with a pizza box.I. Am. Losing. It.
Just thinking of it now has my pulse climbing, my cheeks flushing, and a damp sweat breaking out on my brow. Wehaven’t done anything since the night he took my piercings out and gave me the most incredible orgasm, and I’ve been aching for him since.
“Good,” Gramps says. “Now, help me up. I need to take a leak.” He scoots forward on the deep couch.
“Shouldn’t you be helping me?” I laugh, gesturing to my now obvious baby bump. “I’m just as slow as you are nowadays, Gramps.”
“Oh, hush,” he grumbles.
I sit forward, standing from the couch slowly, making a dramatic show of it, resting a hand on my lower back and groaning. “Alright,” I say. “Here we go.” I hold out my hand, and help him stand from the couch.
