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He kissed my neck, made a face at the taste of my conditioner, wiped his mouth, and left. When I came out of the shower, he was already in bed, and I slipped in beside him.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice already sleep-thick.
“What? About what happened with Gena? I’m fine.” I tucked my head against his shoulder.
“And me, being with another woman?” he asked, his arm scooping around my back.
“It was hard at first,” I admitted. There was no sense in dancing around that. “But then, as I got into it, I liked it. It would be pretty hypocritical if I was okay with fucking her, but not okay with you fucking her. What about you, are you cool?”
It took him a moment to answer. Usually in all things concerning sex, Neil was so easy going. He surprised me with, “It bothered me more than I thought it would. Not you and Gena, that part was fine. But you with Ian… That bothered me a bit more than when you were with Emir. I’m certain it’s because we have a history. It’s one thing to be intimate with a total stranger, but to have that experience with a long-time friend was a bit disconcerting.”
My heart fell a little. If Ian and Gena were a package deal, would I not get a chance to be with her again? Oh my gosh, did I have a crush on her?
“I wouldn’t rule out doing it again,” he went on, and I breathed a little sigh of relief. “I dealt with my feelings and moved past it, as you did.”
“I really did like watching you.” I played with his chest hair with the tips of my fingers. “You’re so sexy.”
“You’ve watched us before, in the mirror,” he reminded me. “And on video.”
“I know I did, but this was a different angle.” I ran my hand down his arm. “I never get to see how you move. I just didn’t realize how in shape you’ve gotten.”
“Different angle,” he teased.
I trailed my fingers across his chest. “It was really a positive experience for me. I would totally do it again.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you said that.” Neil chuckled sleepily. “Because, next time I watch you eat Gena’s pussy, I’d like to be eating yours.”
Damn him and his dirty mouth. I pushed back the covers in a huff and got out of bed.
“Sophie? Where are you going?” His voice held a note of alarm.
“To take another shower. A cold one,” I said, turning to give him an obviously fake pout, to put him at ease. He smiled in relief, and I headed toward the bathroom. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to be able to sleep.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I’d once thought that not wanting a baby would mean I would never have to endure the horror of a Saturday spent shopping for tiny outfits and strollers that look like they’ve been engineered to survive an arctic trek. But I also had never counted on being in a relationship with someone who had kids, let alone pregnant ones.
Since Tony had the day off, we made the journey to Manhattan by ourselves. Driving in the city took more focus than puttering around Sagaponack, which was fine by me because Neil looked so sexy when he was concentrating. He guided the car into a left-hand turn and pulled us to a stop outside a building with a white stone facade. The high, arched windows at street level were decorated with bassinets and mobiles and stuffed toys, all gold and cream-colored under jewelry store lighting.
I loved Emma. But being surrounded by all that crap was going to give me a panic attack.
“You know, no one, to my knowledge, has ever gotten pregnant simply from walking into a baby store,” he joked, turning off the engine. He’d come to pick me up in the DB9, and a guy on the sidewalk stopped to take a photo of the car with his phone.
I checked my hair in the mirror; I’d straightened it and pulled it back under a wide headband I’d improvised from a folded Hermés scarf to disguise the fact that I hadn’t had time to wash my hair that morning. Our night with Ian and Gena had really sapped my energy, but I’d already promised to attend fetus-palooza, and I didn’t want to disappoint Neil. I’d worn a calf-length orange pencil skirt and a vibrant purple peasant top. They were the only things I could make the hippie chic hair disguise work with.
I got out of the car, and Neil came around to take my hand and walk into the store with me. Every time he held my hand, I got a little thrill. I’d never been with a guy who was into that, and before I’d gotten with Neil, I’d thought holding hands in public was silly. Now, it felt awesome, like we were saying to the world, “Look at us. We belong together. See how well our hands fit?”
Inside the store, soft, inoffensive pop music played at a just noticeable volume. Two women, their faces aglow, one of them hugely pregnant, cooed over a round crib with a pale pink canopy. A man on the phone near some baby monitors was trying to explain the optional motion sensor to whoever was on the other end. Everywhere, all around…so many baby products.
“Holy shit, do people need all of this?” I muttered under my breath, and Neil nudged me. A salesperson with bad highlights and the wide, frozen smile of a former pageant queen intercepted us within moments.
“Hi there! I’m Sasha. Welcome to Tétine. Is this your first visit?” Her gaze flicked between Neil and me, and I’m glad she ended her question looking at him, because I was about to panic and flee the store.
“Yes, it is.” He beamed with grandfatherly pride and said, “My daughter is pregnant with her first child, and—”
“Congratulations!” Sasha interrupted, turning her toothy smile to me. “When are you due?”
“Never!” rolled out of my mouth so automatically and vehemently that it startled her.
