"Can you blame me?"
He crossed the room and slid his hands onto my hips. "You're the beautiful one." He crouched and kissed the bump and said something quiet to the baby that I didn't quite catch.
"What about me? Don't I get a kiss?"
He straightened and kissed my face, my neck, pressed another to my forehead, and I laughed and thought about the man I'd first met in the park. The man I mated was not the same as him and yet he was. Underneath he was still the kind, generous loving individual I fell in love with.
The restaurant wasopen-air with tables at the water's edge. Water lapped at people’s feet and I tossed off my slip on sandals and paddled in the warm water. Maybe there were tiny fish who’d nibble our feet while we ate so I wouldn’t need a pedicure.
Renard had paid attention to what I could stomach lately and ordered without consulting the menu too carefully. WhileI prided myself on being able to make my own decisions, sometimes it was nice to hand that responsibility off to someone else.
When the food arrived it was exactly right and we feasted on fresh fish, roasted vegetables and a pasta dish so good I asked the waiter if they'd share the recipe.
"Better than my cooking?" Renard asked.
"Different." I reached across for his hand. "Restaurant fancy versus home comfort. Your pasta tastes like you made it for me. This tastes like a chef made it for customers." I squeezed his fingers. "Yours is better."
He smiled in the way he did when he was pleased but didn't want to make a big thing of it. "You're just saying that."
"I mean it."
After dinner we walked along the beach. The moon was up, casting a shimmery silver light across the water. Renard had his arm around my shoulders and I had mine around his waist with my other hand on my belly.
Our little one kicked. "The baby’s active tonight." I guided his hand to where I'd felt the movement. The baby kicked again and on Renard's face was pure joy with no trace of the careful person he'd been when I met him.
"That never gets old," he said.
"Wait until the baby’s doing it to my bladder at three in the morning."
We found a spot above the tide line and settled on the sand. Renard was behind me with his arms around my middle and his chin on my shoulder. The sand was still warm from the day.
"What if I'm not good at this?" The question slipped out before I'd decided to ask it.
"At what?"
"Being a parent. What if I mess them up?"
He wdidn’t answer right away. His arms tightened. "Then we'll mess them up together. But I don't think we will."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because you're already worried about it. That means you'll try not to." He kissed my temple. "And I've watched you with every dog you walk. You’re patient, consistent and you never give up on them. You'll be the same with our baby."
"Dogs are different from children." I laughed as he compared a four-legged bundle of energy to a baby.
"Not as different as you'd think."
I leaned back into him and decided to believe it.
The next morningwe explored the small town near the resort. We meandered along looking at art galleries, craft shops and a bookstore where I spent twenty minutes while Renard occasionally picked things up and read the back cover.
We stopped in front of a shop with a sign readingHandleys Handcrafted Wood.Inside, sawdust covered the floor and the room smelled of wood oil. On every shelf there were bowls and boxes while dotted around the place were small pieces of furniture.
An older man came from the back, wiping his hands. "Can I help you find something?"
"Just looking," Renard said.
But I'd already seen a mobile hanging near the window with wooden animals suspended on a nearly invisible wire. There was a whale, dolphin, sea turtle and a starfish and the breeze from the open door caught it and the pieces turned in a slow dance.
