Halfway there. The thought sends a sharp jolt of panic through me.
Dr. Okonkwo hands me a paper towel to wipe off the gel. “I want to see you again in four weeks. Keep taking your vitamins, stay hydrated, and try to avoid stress.”
After the appointment, we walk to Antonio’s car in silence. The late morning sun is warm on my face, and I feel something close to peaceful. The book is coming together. The baby is healthy, and Antonio is here.
When we reach his car, he turns me toward him, backing me against the passenger door. His hands settle on my waist.
“Our daughter is perfect,” he says.
“She is.”
He kisses me right there in the parking lot, and I don’t care who might see. When he pulls back, his eyes are bright with joy.
“Dinner tonight?” he asks as he pulls away.
“I need to write.”
“You always need to write.”
“That’s because I have a deadline, Antonio. With actual consequences if I miss it.”
He sighs, dramatic but accepting. “Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow,” I agree, then add with a smile, “I’ll make it up to you.”
I do. The next evening when he comes to my door, I kneel before him, undo his zipper and show him just how sorry I am with my mouth. We never make it to dinner.
Antonio
There’s movement against mypalm at three in the morning.
I go completely still, keeping my palm pressed flat against Jasmine’s belly in the darkness. We fell asleep with her back to my chest, my hand over where our daughter grows.
I hold my breath, waiting.
Another kick. Stronger this time, unmistakable against my skin.
“Deus,” I whisper into Jasmine’s hair.
For weeks, she’s been telling me about the flutters, the rolls and the hiccups. I’ve felt nothing but the firm swell of her belly under my touch.
But now our daughter is announcing herself, and I can finally feel her.
“Querida.” I shake her shoulder. “Wake up.”
“Mmph.” She stirs but doesn’t open her eyes.
We’re at the lake house for the weekend—our third visit since returning to Winter Bay. It’s become our weekend retreat.
“She’s kicking. Really kicking. I can finally feel her.”
That wakes her up. She places her hand over mine, and we wait together in the darkness of her bedroom.
The baby kicks again.
“There,” I whisper. “Did you feel that?”
“Oh, is that what that is?” She yawns. “I thought I had gas.”
