Baby & Bump (The This & That Series) (13 page)

“That’s him.” I rolled my eyes and suppressed a laugh of my own. “Seriously. He was sweating through his costume. It was horrible.”

Fletcher’s shoulders shook. “Satin’s not a real breathable fabric, is it?”

“Nope.” I picked at a loose piece of leather on my steering wh
eel. “Anyway, his name is Norman, and he’s a small business owner who will apparently forgive me for having another man’s baby. This is who my mother would like to see me marry. Preferably before my due date.”

Fletcher’s eyes flashed. “She doesn’t want you to be a single mother.”

“Not exactly,” I said, my eyes filling again. “She’d marry me off to the postman if he were willing to tolerate another man’s child.”

“Tolerate?” He winced.

“It’s okay.” I felt a reassuring flutter deep within my abdomen, and my hands went to my belly. “I know I’m capable of caring for my child alone. I’ve never doubted that. Not for a second. I just wish everyone else believed in me, too.”

The sound of
a rumbling engine passed by while Fletcher scratched his chin thoughtfully. The quickening in my stomach subsided, and I suddenly felt very heavy and tired. Maybe, like my mother, Fletcher thought a baby needed to have a father, too.

Maybe he
thought the way as Candace and Marisol did, like I owed it to everyone to tell them who the father was. To hold Nate responsible.

It seemed I w
ould never make everyone happy.

Until Fletcher cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. His touch lingered for just a beat or two longer than what was appropriate. “For what it’s worth, I believe in you.”

I turned my head and smiled at Fletcher.
My first genuine smile of the afternoon. That was good enough for now.

Chapter Twelve

              A few weeks after the mall debacle with my mother, the aroma of sautéed diver scallops filled my nose, and I braced myself for the rush of nausea that was sure to follow. I was getting so sick of wanting to ralph every time I smelled food. Or soap. Or an animal of some sort. Or, well,
anything
. Most women grew out of this phase of pregnancy at the end of their first trimester. Here I was, almost halfway through, and I still couldn’t get through a day without barfing.

             
“Are you sick to your stomach?” Candace asked, coming around the kitchen island. Her blonde hair was pulled into a French twist, and she looked as fresh and pretty as ever, even though Marisol and I had her schlepping appetizers at a charity event.

             
“Actually, no.” I shifted the scallops in the bubbling butter and smiled. My stomach remained calm. “I think I might be getting past the nausea now. The other night I ate a whole plate of food and didn’t have to run to the garbage can once.”

             
“That’s great.” She popped a grape tomato into her mouth. “So since you’re consuming food again, that means Brian and I can invite you over for homemade eggrolls. We’ve been missing you.”

             
I closed my eyes as my stomach wavered. Just the tiniest bit. “Okay. Soon. I promise. But don’t mention eggrolls again.”

             
“Right. Got it.” She patted my arm, and I went back to basting the scallops. “Oh, the joys of pregnancy. Just wait until your libido goes nuts.”

             
I gave her a sideways glance. “Excuse me?”

             
“Oh, man.” She plucked a stuffed mushroom off one of the crystal platters and popped it in her mouth. I watched her chew and swallow, then she licked her fingers before explaining. “When I was about five, maybe six months along, I became
insatiable
,” she said.

             
My jaw dropped as I used tongs to remove the scallops from the hot pan. I couldn’t think of a time in my life when I’d felt less sexy. I felt gangly and scrawny everywhere except my potbelly, which was now starting to resemble a volleyball under my chef coat. I cared less about makeup and shaving my legs, and was more focused on finding my bed after a long day at work and making sure
Real Housewives
recorded on my DVR.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I
placed the scallops onto plates carefully dressed with saffron sauce.

“Nope. Not kidding at all.” Candace winked at me. “Why do you think Brian keeps nagging me to have a fourth child?”

I threw my head back and released a burst of laughter. “So you’re saying your husband only gets laid when you’re knocked up?”

She handed me another tray of scallops to sear. “No. He gets lucky. Just not as much as when I’m expecting.”

“Isn’t it awkward?” I held my arms out in front of me, imitating the enormous stomach I would eventually have. “You know, logistically speaking.”

Her cheeks pinked. “Not if you’re inventive.”

“Holy crap, Candace. TMI.”

I placed the new scallops into the pan and the sizzling sound filled my ears. I couldn’t imagine having sex while hugely pregnant. I could barely remember having sex before I got pregnant. The only time I ever felt, well,
randy
nowadays was when I was around my obstetrician. And frankly, that was both pathetic and wrong.

A few moments passed. Images filled my mind. Shaking my head,
I asked, “So… inventive how?”

The kitchen door s
wung open, and Marisol emerged. Her white “Eats & Treats” apron was smeared with orange. “Okay, the carrot vinaigrette was a hit,” she announced, dropping an empty tray onto the countertop. “But who in the hell brings a little kid to an event like this? Seriously?” Candace and I watched in amusement as she stomped around the island, brushing the fabric with a towel. “Dear Lord, I can’t stand kids.”

When I cleared my throat, Marisol’s attention focused on me, and she smiled sheepishly. “Whoops. Sorry. Not
your
kid, Lex. I love
that
little nugget. You know that.”

“Sure you do.” I
chuckled and turned over the scallops. “Good thing you’re dating a guy with a daughter.”

“No doubt,” Candace
snickered.

Marisol snorted. “Please. That kid thinks I’m amazing.”

“You told me a few days ago that she rolled her eyes whenever you talked.” Candace smeared some more saffron sauce on a row of plates.

Marisol’s confident smile faltered. “Wel
l, yeah. But just the other night I took her shopping, and she loved every second.”

“Well, duh
. You were buying her stuff,” I blurted.

As soon as the words slipped out, I felt like a jerk. It was rude for me to point out that Martha only dug her whe
n they were at the mall. Marisol was trying, really she was. But she’d never really connected with anyone too young to get into her favorite martini bar. Candace’s kids didn’t really like her, either. When Auntie Marisol came over she treated them like they needed to be dunked in a vat of hand sanitizer.

“Ugh, I don’t want to discuss Martha anymore.” Marisol sighed and tugged the apron off. “I finally date a hot doctor, and he’s got a stinkin’ kid.”

Wincing, I looked down at the pan and tried not to get annoyed. I really liked Martha, and
not
just because her dad was as fine as the day was long. She reminded me of myself when I was a kid. Eager, girly, giggly, and saddled with the wit of someone much older. If
I
were dating Fletcher, Martha and I would be pals. Besties.

Wait
. Stop. Inappropriate.

Silence fell over the three of us as Marisol
put on a new apron. After a moment, Candace cleared her throat. “So, if you’re looking for
inventive
ideas, Lex, why don’t you hit up Marisol?”

“Whatever.” I lifted the scallops out of the pan,
arranged them on plates, then put new ones on to cook. The sizzling sound sent a cloud of aromatic air dancing around our heads. “She’s never been pregnant. You have.”

“Yes, but we all know she’s been inventive.” Candace wiped the edge of a plate with a towel.

“What? Me?” Marisol looked up. “Inventive how?”

“Inventive in bed,” my cousin chirped.

“Candace!” I glanced at the kitchen door to make sure no one had heard.

“Oh,
that
kind of inventive.” She smiled and adjusted her boobs in her blouse. “Yeah, I’ve got some skills, if I do say so myself.”

Only Marisol could make being borderline slutty a source of pride. Of course, if I looked like her, I would probably walk around in a self-obsessed haze, too.

I laughed to myself. “Well, according to Candace here, I should be getting good and horny in a few weeks.”

Marisol hopped on the cou
nter and crossed her legs. “That so?”

Candace nodded. “That’s what happened to me. All three pregnancies.”

“Huh.” Marisol readjusted her glossy brown ponytail. “The exact opposite of that happened to my hairdresser. She said that the idea of sex made her run to the bathroom to vomit until her head spun.” She raised an eyebrow in my direction. “That sounds more like your style, Lexie.”

I frowned
I served the last batch of scallops. “Thanks.”

Her hands went out defensively. “Hey, don’t blame the messenger. I’m just saying you’ve been vomiting on an hourly basis for
like five months straight. Now Candace has you thinking that you’re going to turn into a nymph overnight.”

“She might!” Candace exclaimed.

“Okay,” Marisol conceded. “So what happens if she does? There’s no baby-daddy hanging around. It looks like you’re going to be all by your lonesome for some long nights, Lex.”

I turned off the burner. “Ugh. Okay, you can stop there.”

Marisol’s shoulders suddenly sagged. “Of course, what business do I have bragging about my bedroom inventiveness, when I can’t even get my boyfriend to lay a hand on me.”

Candace tilted her head. “Is he considered your boyfriend if you haven’t slept together yet?”

“I like to think so,” Marisol snapped. “I don’t know. This is unfamiliar territory for me.”

My
heart suddenly sprouted wings and took flight. I’d spent the better part of the last few weeks trying desperately to avoid thinking about Marisol and Fletcher in the throws of passion. Even the idea of them kissing made jealousy prickle at the back of my throat, so the idea of sex was almost too much to take.

“So you and Fletcher haven’
t messed around yet?” I asked.

Marisol’s pretty face pulled into a frown. “Had sex? No, we haven’t. And it’s driving me crazy.”

My mind whirled.
Victory.
Wait, wait. That wasn’t nice.

“So why not?” Candace nibbled on another tomato.

“I don’t know!” Marisol threw her hands in the air. “I’ve been giving him the signals. Hinting at staying in his place. Inviting him in for a drink. I’ve shown more cleavage on our last two dates than you see at the beach in August. I even dropped a condom out of my purse in his living room the other day. You know, the usual signs.”

“Wow. Subtle,” I commented flatly.

Candace’s elbow poked my arm. “Marisol, it hasn’t been that long. Maybe he’s just shy.”

“You’ve known him for years.
” Marisol’s eyes flashed. “Does Fletcher seem shy to you?”

“Well, not particularly.” Candace bit her lip, then added, “But Brian and I have never dated him. Maybe he’s different with women.”

Marisol snorted. “If different means he’s taken a vow of chastity, then sure.”

I sprinkled chives on
all the plates. “Hey, what’s wrong with a vow of chastity?”

Marisol
hopped off of the counter. “This from the single pregnant chick.”

My cheeks flushed. “Well, it’s stupid to act like you’re going to
die
because your boyfriend hasn’t seen you naked yet.”

Her hands went to her hips. “Relax, I was just teasing. Besides, Lex, if you looked like me naked, you’d want to share it with your hot boyfriend, too.”

“Oh, Marisol,” I said, scowling. “Beautiful
and
humble. What man could resist you?”

Candace put her hands up between us. “Okay, okay. Truce.” She started filling a tray with plates. “Listen, Mar. I think you just need to relax.”

“Relax? I can’t relax. I’m sexually frustrated.” Marisol picked up her own tray, and started muttering to herself in Spanish. She’d picked up the habit from her childhood nanny, who wound up becoming one of her many stepmothers.

“It’s only been a
month or two.” Candace laughed. “Some people wait years to consummate their relationship. I think you just need to chill out. Let Fletcher take his time.”

I helped Candace hoist her full tray onto her shoulder. “He’s a father, for heaven’s sake. Maybe he doesn’t want his daughter to come out for cereal in the morning to find you in his kitchen wearing his button down.”

Marisol thought about that for a beat. “Maybe if Martha weren’t around, we could have some grown-up alone time.”

“Exactly.” Candace nodded. “Look, Fletcher’s a guy. Eventually he’s gonna want to do it. Give him some time, and I’m sure he’ll arrange for you two to have a private date, and—”

“I’ve got it!” Marisol snapped her manicured fingers and grinned at us. “I’ll get rid of the kid for a night!”

“Ugh, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” I plopped a plate onto Marisol’s tray with unnecessary force. “Your hormones are out of control.”

Marisol’s brown eyes rolled down to my baby belly. “Come on, you aren’t really trying to advocate chastity with me, are you? Now listen, I won’t lock the little girl in a cage. I’ll arrange for her to have a sleepover somewhere, that’s all.”

“What, are you gonna call Fletcher and ask for the names of Martha’s frien
ds?” I rolled my eyes. “Come on.”

Candace glanced at me. “Well, Marisol, I suppose you could—”

“I’ve got it!” Marisol propped the other tray on her shoulder and winked at me. “Since you’re so fond of the kid, Lexie, why don’t
you
watch her for a night?”

“Me?” I blinked at her.

How was I going to get out of this one? There was no way I was watching Martha while Marisol laid her father. Sure, I wasn’t exactly the portrait of morality right now. But that didn’t mean I was going to help distract Fletcher’s daughter while Marisol tried to pry his Levi’s off.

“I don’t think so
.” I wiped my hands on a towel. I could feel Candace staring at me.