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Chapter Eleven
Mia
One MonthLater
The past month flew by.
Conor had invited me to a wedding in Wisconsin and I’d been shocked when I learned it was for an NHL player. Apparently Conor and the groom had become fast friends through the bar.
True to his word, Conor didn’t try any frisky business with me, and that weekend away was the first time he and I stayed in a bed together since the night of our talk. I was semi-expecting, shoot, I was hoping, he would try something, touch something, but other than holding me through the night, his hands didn’t make any moves. If I had to guess, I would think he just liked keeping his hands on my belly to try to catch the baby moving, not the actual touching me part.
After that weekend though, Conor started staying the night.
Every night.
Said he liked to sleep next to me.
And that his California King was too damn big without me in it. That he’d take my little queen sized bed with me in it any day of the week.
Which baffled me because I personally would take the space of his large bed any day of the week. I was starting to get super warm at night and had to pee at least once a night, if not twice. Having Conor’s big, burly form wrapped around me kind of became a pain some nights.
Conor cut back on his time at the bar, too. Said he wanted to spend more time with me, and that Rory and Brenna were more than capable of handling the day to day operations. We also may have had a slightly heated discussion about it a week or two ago.
He still tended bar Thursday through Sunday, and still wore a kilt for ladies’ night, but swore he didn’t take any ladies up to the apartment with him.
Which I believed full-heartedly.
I mean, he always crawled into my bed thirty minutes after bar-close so unless he was doing magic quickies…
More than that, though, I was growing to trust him.
He still had his cocky ways with his fast grins, but when he was with me, he was with me one-thousand percent. We learned a lot about one another over the last month too, catching up on the last fifteen years.
I also started back at school two weeks ago. While Conor slept until noon, I went off to work. He would sometimes stop by the school during my lunch break and eat a brown bag lunch with me in my classroom.
Seeing Conor in a little green chair did serious things to my heart.
But finally, we reached a month.
Today.
And I was newly two weeks into the third trimester and if I hit the ‘don’t touch me with that thing’ phase after spending the last four weeks in sexual need-but-not-getting, I was going to…
I don’t know, but Conor wouldn’t be very happy.
I considered going to his apartment, but he was at the bar and he’d know something was up. As it was, he was only working the lunch crowd today, leaving the crazy Saturday night to Stone and Rory.
He’d be back to my place in an hour. I wasn’t planning anything extravagant, and I didn’t have any fancy teddies or anything. It was hard to find something and feel super sexy with this belly. Thankfully, my belly hadn’t done too much growing the last few weeks; at least, I didn’t think so. Ask Conor, and it grew leaps and bounds. I was the one sporting it, though, and I didn’t really notice too much of a difference.
But my belly button officially popped out. And there was that line down my belly. And the stretch marks. They were all things these days.
Like I said. Hard to feel sexy.
I did order lacy boy shorts and a bra for the occasion, but wasn’t planning on putting them on until right before Conor walked through my door.
We had found an easy rhythm for us as a couple. There wasn’t any talk about what was going to happen after today, being the end of that first month, but I was comfortable with the thought this was happening, that this could be a long-term thing. That we could co-parent and everything would be right in Baby O’Gallagher’s world.
We hadn’t talked names, but we did discuss that the baby would take Conor’s surname. It only made sense to me. However, the closer we got to D-day, the more we should probably start considering first names.
