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All mine.
Gillian did it before me on her own. And she was still so young. I’m nearly thirty. I can do this. I have my network, my family. It’s not ideal, but it’s my life. And I’m ready to accept that.
I trace my hand up and down my tummy to be. We’re far off from the quickening. Sometimes, though, I swear I can feel my baby’s presence right there in the pit of my stomach. Getting ready to really burst to life.
I push away from my computer and put my other hand on my stomach too. Two hands are better than one.
It should be my hand along with Orlie’s.
“You’re such a sap, Kira,” I mutter to myself.
I should hate him with every fiber of my being. He lied to me. And then didn’t even have the balls to go all the way with it. What’s the point in lying to a woman about having a vasectomy and getting her pregnant against her will if you’re not even going to follow through on the entrapment?
I speak mostly in jest. Mostly.
There are so many layers to this story I can’t quite figure out. Why did he do it? What did he get out of it? Is he really just a billionaire who is so used to getting what he wants and just really wanted to be bare inside me?
If that’s the case, he’s insane.
Still, though. While parts of me despise what he did, parts of me miss him. And hope he’ll come back to me.
I’ve imagined how I wanted that moment to go so many times. Beyond the fake vasectomy, beyond the anger and the tears.
All I wanted was for him to make it all feel better.
I close my eyes. His face is right there, so easy to conjure it hurts.
With my eyes closed it’s easier to pretend one of my hands isn’t my own.
Orlie’s. A thumb ghosting up and down my skin.
Don’t daydream. Please don’t daydream… the logical part of myself begs.
I can’t help it, though.
As much harder as reality will be after, it’s already happening.
Orlie kneels down beside me. Looks up at me with his obsidian eyes that have always captivated me. I long for them. Find comfort in them. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“You’re sure?”
I just know he’d be so careful with me if he actually believed the baby was his. “You’re too worried about me.”
“You’re carrying my baby. I think I’m appropriately worried about you.”
I sigh longingly.Shit, was that out loud?
God, how I wish my dream would come true.
Of course, that would mean he’d actually have to love me.
Imaginary Orlie lifts the front of my shirt, pulling it up until it sits right under my tender breasts. He leans forward and kisses my bare skin, nuzzles my not-there-yet belly with his nose. “You’re so beautiful.”
I run my hand through his thick locks of dark hair.
“Mother of my child.” Several kisses to my bare skin. All for us. My baby and me. Then, he lifts his chin and smiles. “I want to take care of you.”
