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In his usual thorough style, he worked up a nutritional chart for both him and Bliss. Now that he was missing a gallbladder, he had to cut down on fat and fiber and, worst of all, caffeine, while she’d been given some nutritional recommendations from Carly’s doula, Dolores Vieira. He calculated the nutritional content of each dish he made and marked it down on a chart on a dry erase board.
Bliss gazed in bemusement at the chart as she grabbed a quart of strawberry ice cream from the freezer. “What category does this fall into?”
“Well, the dairy’s good.” He put a checkmark in that column. She ravenously downed several quick spoonsful. “And ice cream is good for enjoyment.”
“Enjoyment is one of your columns?”
“Sure.” He pointed out the column topped with a happy face. “Dolores says it’s important to keep your spirits up. So enjoyment gets its own column.”
Bliss yawned and set the ice cream carton on the counter, her spoon still lodged in it. That kind of thing didn’t bother him anymore, he realized in surprise. It was just…Bliss. “I need to do something productive. I can’t just sit around like this.”
“You’re gestating, remember? It’s hard work.”
“I’m ballooning. I’m a bloated, sleepy manatee.” She groaned at the same time as she yawned again, which made for a strange noise. “Women work all the way up until they give birth, you know. I would, too, except no one wants me like this.” A tear glistened in the corner of her eye. “No booking agent will want me again,” she wailed. “My career is over.”
“I doubt that.” Granger folded his arms across his chest and waited patiently. He was getting used to these mood swings. In a way, he liked them because they gave him a glimpse into the non-sunshine part of her inner world.
A moment later, she brightened. “No, it is, and I don’t even care! I hate modeling anyway. I only ever did it because my mother wanted me to and it was good money. I’m going to quit. I’m done. I’m going to find another career.”
“Oh yeah?” He lifted his eyebrows, waiting.
“But whaaat?” She linked her hands behind her head and looked up at the ceiling. “Modeling’s all I know. Knitting too, but who’s going to buy cute little crop tops from abloated sleepy manatee?”
He tried hard not to laugh. So hard. But it was impossible not to crack a tiny smile.
She bristled with indignation. “You shouldn’t laugh at manatees. Don’t you know they’re endangered?”
He wiped the smile from his face, but in the next moment, she yawned anyway. “I need a freaking nap.”
“Take a nap. I’ll clean—” But she was already staggering out of the kitchen.
“Thank you! You’re the best housemate I’ve ever had!” she called to him from the staircase.
Housemate? He set his teeth as he dug the spoon out of the melting strawberry ice cream. He had to do something. He wanted more than being a housemate. So much more.
He fingered the ring in his pocket. It was completed enough to make the point. He kept hoping the perfect moment would come when he could whip it out and make his proposal. It never seemed to.
Was he afraid? Maybe. This was foreign territory to him. His heart was almost too full…he didn’t have the right words. He was going to have to rely on his old standby, facts and logic.
Twenty-Seven
Bliss scheduled her twenty-week ultrasound at the hospital in Braddock, but in the meantime, Carly’s doula, Dolores, came to check on her. Bliss looked forward to those visits as if they were from an angel on high.
The woman was just so reassuring. Puking your guts out into the sixth month? “Totally normal. It doesn’t happen to all women, but it can happen.”
Sleepy all the time?
“Very normal. Again, everyone’s experience is different, but there’s nothing so far that concerns me.”
“What about emotional meltdowns? I feel like I have one every hour on the hour.”
“Completely—”
“Normal,” Bliss finished for her. “I guess I should stop worrying, is that what you’re trying to say?”
“It’s normal to worry.”
They both laughed. Dolores unwrapped the blood pressure cuff from around her arm. “Have you tried those breathing exercises I gave you?”
