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She giggled when I pulled her off of it. “Oh, stars, the hardest thing about being pregnant has been accepting my limitations, realizing I need help, that I can’t do everything on my own. It’s the worst.”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking of what that would be like. “I can see that. I probably haven’t been really sensitive to that, huh?”
“No, you’re…” She sighed. “The truth is, most people just assume I can handle it all, and it’s probably because I keep insisting I can. It’s kind of nice to have someone want to take care of me a little.”
“A lot,” I said. “Let me take care of you a lot?” Then I put up both my hands. “No, you know what? Never mind. I didn’t mean—”
“Okay,” she said, and she collapsed into me, putting her face against my chest. “Okay, please. I’m exhausted.”
It seemed natural to put my arms around her then, and I did.
We walked, arm in arm, her leaning against me, into my house, and I got her set up on a couch, fetching pillows for her when she told me that she could not haveenoughpillows these days, and helping her tuck them various places—behind her back, under her legs, around her pelvis.
She lay back, eyes close, moaning. “Okay, now I think I’ll be comfortable for exactly two whole minutes before she wakes up and starts kicking me.”
“Two minutes, huh?”
“I’m exaggerating.” She sighed. “Not that much, though.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“You said you were going to feed us.” She put her hand on her belly gazing up at me with half-lidded eyes. “Real protein, you said?”
I grinned. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“I’ve been craving meat,” she said, shutting her eyes.
Feedus. That made something rise in me, something almost primal, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
Mine,said a voice inside me, a voice I hadn’t heard since I’d been in the rut.
Not yours,I countered, while I cooked. I had a freezer and cooler stocked full of meat that I’d hunted, and it was easy enough to make something for her. I put together a meal of fresh food, all of it right from the actual ground, none of it processed sludge from a replicator.
I started to set the table in my dining room and then thought maybe she’d rather stay on her pillows.
When I went in to ask her, she was asleep.
I wasn’t going to wake her for the world, but she suddenly clutched her stomach and let out a grunt and her eyes opened. “Ouch.”
“You okay?” I said.
She reached up and grabbed my hand and put it on her belly.
And there it was, a little fluttery feeling of movement under my fingers, and my heart expanded, and I felt my throat constrict, and I gasped.
Cypra pulled my face down and kissed me.
I kissed her back.
And then I pulled away. “Hey, you said…”
“I know,” she said, shaking her head, looking confused and freaked out. “I don’t know what that was.”
“You were half asleep,” I said. “You can’t be blamed for whatever you did. Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Sounds good.” She grinned at me. “Does that amazing smell mean dinner is ready?” She sat up, sniffing.
“Yeah,” I said. “I didn’t know if you wanted to eat here or at the table?”
