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Only to be told this time, she is, in fact, knocked up.
Julia is having our baby.
I look at the man leaning against the wall with his hands behind his back.
She's havinghisbaby.
I take a minute to examine how that makes me feel.
It’s—fuck. I feel like Aladdin the first time he stepped into the cave of wonders. My stomach is in knots, and every few seconds, another tiny little burst of adrenaline explodes in my chest to surge and make my fingers tingle.
It would be a lie if I didn't admit I always thought our first child would share my DNA.
Until a year ago, the thought of Julia having another man's baby would have sent me into an uncontrollable rage. But I'm not unhappy.
I'm not disappointed at all. Another burst, and the knots turn into snakes. I'm just a tiny bit ecstatic, if I'm being honest.
I want to wag my tail like a puppy dog and beg Remi to pet me.
No! I want to pethimand praise him for what a very good boy he’s been and congratulate him for a job well done.
Remi isn't another man. He belongs to me. They both do. I’ve been wracking my brain for almost a year now to find a way to prove to him thatwe are not a mistake!What better confirmation can there be than the bundle of cells currently duplicating themselves in the womb of the woman we both love?
The near-silent little whimper from the man who shares my bed pulls my attention out of my head and back to him.
It's like the invasion of the body snatchers. Suddenly I'm the calm and sedate one, and he's crawling up the walls.
"She's going to be fine."
Anguish, unbridled and pure pull his lips down and makes his eyes droop to the side.
"Of course she is." He scrubs his hands roughly down his face and shoves up from the wall. "What about the baby?"
A baby we didn’t know existed two hours ago is suddenly the most important thing in all our lives.
"You heard what they said,” I try to comfort him. “They won't be anywhere near the baby. It’s not even a baby yet. It’s still a blob without a fully formed heart, according to Baby Center.” Yes, I looked. You would too. You know it. Don’t give me that expression. “Besides that, with Julia as its mother, that baby is already strong as hell."
He allows a tight smile to grace his face before it falls back into its wrought, discomforted expression.
This probably wouldn't be the best time to tell him the dark and broody persona is a really good look on him. I haven't seen him in a suit since he came home, and it's such a breath of fresh air to see him so casually dressed I'm tempted to burn them all when he's asleep one night.
Instead, he's wearing a henley, which I've quickly garnered a kink for, and black joggers tight at the bottom of his legs. Blue Jordans go up over his ankle, and his leg is bouncing on the ball of his foot, his heel never touching the ground. He even put his pea-coat back on, and with the hood dropping from around his neck—yeah. Tall, dark, and brooding should be his nickname.
"What about the pain meds they gave her? Has she had anything to drink in the last few months?"
Months. She's barely eight weeks along, and two of those weeks, she wasn't even really pregnant yet.
I looked it up in the last twenty minutes. Don't judge me.
"Like, maybe a glass or two of wine, and if the doctor didn't seem concerned about the pain meds, I don't know why we should be."
Okay. So, I looked that up too. One of us needs to be in control of our emotions, and the millisecond that doctor told us Julia was pregnant, I knew Remi was going to blow a gasket.
Any minute now, from the looks of it.
"Painkillers are okay, so long as she doesn't take a ton of them. In this case, the stress on her body from her writhing in agony would be worse on the baby than the meds would be. Not to mention the impending appendix eruption, sepsis, and death. It’ll be fine, baby."
By this time next week, we'll have seen the OBGYN, and he can hear it from a professional's mouth instead of Dr. Google.
