Page 85 of Never Really Mine
He nods, taking in the disaster in front of him. “Is there a method to this?”
“Yep. I don’t know what it is yet, but I promise it makes sense to me.”
“That’s all that matters,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m going to shower, and run to the store. Do you want anything specific for dinner?”
I shake my head. “Not at the moment, but give me twenty minutes, and I’ll think of something.” He’s been busy the last two weeks. On top of helping me around the house, he’s been working extra hours at the office to help his co-workers when he’s gone for paternity leave.
“Let me know,” he says, turning and heading down the hall. I hear the shower turn on, and my body starts to ache, but not in a bad way. It’s like I’ve just remembered that he’s naked in the shower, and my body wants him.
I wouldn’t have guessed that I’d be so horny at thirty-four weeks pregnant, but I am. I want this man so fucking badly, that it hurts. Dr. Ness didn’t give me the all clear for sex today like I’d hoped, but there’s always next week. Right?
I focus on folding and refolding the tiny outfits and blankets, my eyes filling with tears when I think of how small they will be. How much they will probably look like Beau.
I stand from the couch to put some things in the tote next to me, cringing internally at how long it took me to stand.
Beau walks back into the living room with damp hair, making his way to me immediately, stopping behind my back. His arms wrap around me, resting at the top of my belly. “Bye,” he murmurs, squeezing me to his back gently. I don’t know why he’s doing this to me, but he needs to stop. It’s like he’s purposely rubbing his cologne over me, marking me with his scent. Maybe it’s some primal thing. Marking his territory. Or maybe he knows how much I love the way he smells, and he’s trying to drive me crazy. That seems like the more logical option. Right? A low pulsing in my groin picks up speed, leaving me aching, yet again, for him. I scold myself. I need to knock this shit off.
“Bye,” I reply. He reluctantly pulls back, but not before I hear him take a deep inhale.
“I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He steps away, and I hear his footsteps as he walks out the side door, locking it behind him. A moment later, his car starts, and he rolls out of the driveway. I try to focus on the task at hand.
Put the clothes in the tote, Marley. Just… put the onesie in the tote.
I let the small piece of fabric slide from my fingertips into the tote, and grab the lid to seal it. It’s completely full now, and ready to go into the garage.
My mind can’t seem to focus on the baby clothes, or the totes anymore. I can’t stop thinking of the way it feels like when Beau is inside me. I shake off the temptation, and head into the kitchen. I need to do something else with my hands, to keep me busy. I take a sponge and get a mug soapy and wet, and start to scrub it. But I can’t stay focused. Not on the mug at least.
No, it’s thinking of other things. How it would feel to wash Beau. To get him all soapy and wet in the shower. To land on my knees in front of him, and…
I drop the mug, and it clatters into the metal sink. Thankfully, it doesn’t break, but it startles me. Okay. Maybe washing the dishes is not a good idea when I’m distracted like this. The last thing I need is to drop a knife or squeeze it and slice my hand open. I shut off the water, and dry my pruny hands on the towel next to the sink.
I glance around the kitchen. I need something to do with my hands, to distract me from the thoughts of Beau. Of naked Beau. Of the way he felt inside me. So thick, so full.So…
“Oh my god, Marley,” I say out loud to my empty house. “Knock it off.”
Thankfully, my house doesn’t reply, or I would really be concerned about my mental state. I rub my hands over my bump, further drying my hands on my shirt.
A strong whiff of Beau’s cologne wafts over me as I walk down the hall toward my room. It halts me in my tracks, right in front of the guest room’s half open door. Even though he hasn’t slept here in a long time, and it’s full of baby things, it still is full of Beau’s personal items. He has a scattered stack of business cards on the dresser, the bedsheets are rumpled and half open. A pair of sweats is on the floor next to the laundry hamper. Typical man.
But it’s not the pants that catch my attention most. It’s the books on his nightstand. My interest piques, and I push the door open the rest of the way. The scent of him slams into me like a brick wall, heavy and unfiltered. I swear, he has never smelled this good before. Is it the pregnancy hormones that are making it stronger? I’ll have to ask Dr. Ness.
I stride over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. The mattress sinks under my weight, enveloping me in a cloud of comfortable foam. My eye catches the books again, and my heart leaps.
Oh my god. He has pregnancy books. And not just one. He has a whole pile of them. Multiple books. One about twin pregnancy in specific, one about how to be the best partner during pregnancy, one about labor and delivery. And they aren’t untouched. The pages are crinkled, with tabs sticking out in random spots. I open the top book to the first tabbed page, and my eyes fill with tears. He’s reading about pregnancy. For me. For us.
I shouldn’t be crying, yet here we are. This realization hits me deep. I put the book back where I found it, making sure it doesn’t look out of place. I stand, with effort, off the bed and see a worn sweatshirt hanging off a chair in the corner. Without secondguessing it too much, I swipe it off the chair, throwing it on over my body. It fits me well, even with my large stomach, and the scent of him envelopes me almost immediately. I grab the books off the nightstand again, deciding I don’t care if he knows that I found them. I want to look through them.
I waddle—because I’m officially in the waddling stage of my pregnancy—down the hall to the living room again. It looks like a war zone here, the totes scattered and clothes everywhere. I sit down on the couch, flipping one book open to the first tabbed page. The chapter is labeled asMorning Sickness.He has passages highlighted with possible remedies, or signs that your partner should go to the doctor.
The next tab marked is labeledMental Health. He has highlighted the subheadingDepression,and even has a few notes taken down. There is a passage with ideas on how to assist with mood swings and depression, and Beau seems to have read every one. There is a pen dot next to each sentence and suggestion.
A stray tear slides down my cheek. He did this for me. I didn’t ask him to, and yet, he’s doing what he can to take care of me, and our twins. A notecard falls out of the next page, Beau’s handwriting filling the lines.
Questions for Dr. Ness
Monitor her moods. Is she sleeping more than normal?
What is normal at this stage in pregnancy with twins?
