“Yeah?” His smile is soft in the hallway light. “Not too mysterious?”
“The right amount of mysterious.” I turn to face him fully. “Do you want to come in?”
“Querida.” He cups my face with both hands. “I want nothing more than to come inside. But I’m trying to do this right.”
“Your mother isn’t here.”
“No, but I want our first date to end sweet and with longing. Not with me tearing off this dress, no matter how much I’ve been thinking about it all night.”
Heat pools low in my belly. “Oh.”
Then his lips are against mine, kissing me thoroughly. He slides a hand into my hair while the other settles at my waist, pulling me as close as possible.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him, rising on my toes. His arm tightens around me, supporting my weight as the kiss turns molten.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard. “I’m trying to be the man who deserves you. Who deserves her.” His hand finds my stomach. “Even if it’s torture.”
“Antonio...”
“Next date, though?” His grin turns wicked. “All bets are off. Fair warning.”
He takes the keys from my trembling hand. The click of the lock sounds loud in the quiet hallway. He pushes the door open, reaching inside to flip on the light before stepping back into the hallway.
“In you go, querida.”
I hesitate in the doorway, not ready for the night to end. He leans against the doorframe, looking at me.
“Goodnight, Jasmine.”
“Goodnight.”
He waits until I’m fully inside before pulling the door shut. He stands there for over five minutes before his footsteps finally retreat down the hallway.
I lean against the door, fingers pressed to my still-tingling lips. My phone buzzes almost immediately.
Already planning date number two. Hope you’re ready.
I smile at the screen, feeling that dizzying, free-fall sensation in my stomach. This is what it could be like, I think again. This is what I could have.
The ultrasound gel is cold against my skin, but I barely notice it. My attention is fixed on the screen where our daughter floats in gray-scale, her tiny heart flickering.
“There she is,” Dr. Okonkwo says, adjusting the wand. “Very active today.”
Antonio’s hand tightens around mine. He hasn’t let go since he picked me up from my apartment, and I’ve stopped pretending I want him to.
“Is that her hand?” Antonio leans forward, squinting at the screen.
“It is. She’s waving at you.”
“Olá, minha filha,” Antonio murmurs. “She has your nose. Look at that profile.”
“Antonio, she’s the size of a banana. You can’t possibly tell whose nose she has.”
“I can tell. It’s definitely yours. Perfect.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling as I watch him watch our daughter. The wonder on his face is something I want to write down and capture in words before it fades.
“Everything looks perfect,” the doctor continues. “Heart rate is strong. Brain development is right on track. She’s measuring exactly where she should be for twenty weeks.”
