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Yep, I’m going to kill him. Single motherhood here I come.
Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the window, I wonder if he doesn’t want to touch me because of how big I am. My belly is huge, I have stretch marks out the wazoo, and I’m swollen everywhere.
The dam breaks and as tears pour down my cheeks. I push the door open to my office and fall to the couch I have tucked in the corner and succumb to my tears.
Seconds ago, I was horny and now I’m a sobbing mess. Stupid, stupid hormones.
Maybe if my husband loved on me like he used to I wouldn’t feel this damn pathetic, my inner voice snarks.
“Meadow?” Dexter cautiously says as steps into the room.
I shake my head, trying to shake off the tears, but it’s no use. “What?”
“Baby, what’s wrong?” He sits next to me and puts his arm around my shoulder.
Seriously?
I narrow my eyes into slits. “You won’t have sex with me. You won’t touch me. You don’t find me desirable anymore.”
“Meadow, baby, that’s not true. You know it.” He brushes my hair away from my face.
“Oh yeah? Then prove it.”
“Baby, you’re the most beautiful...” I put a finger to his lips.
“Not with words. But you can use your mouth—somewhere—to show me.” I wiggle my eyebrows and lean closer to him.
He grabs my wrist and places a kiss into my palm before letting it down. “It’s not worth the risk. We only have four weeks.”
“There’s no way either of us could go four MORE weeks without sex. And did you forget about the additional six weeks with nothing? That’s forever.” I groan, nibbling my bottom lip.
“Meadow, just stop.”
“Stop telling me to stop! I’m used to having your hands all over me almost twenty-four hours a day for the last four years, and now, it’s like I have the plague. Forget not doing it, but you barely kiss me. In our room is the first time you’ve done that in weeks. So, excuse me for wanting to feel desired.”
His eyebrows knit into a frown. “I do want you, but I’m just being cautious. I don’t want the baby to come early like Wes did.”
“Sex wouldn’t be the reason why. Women have sex all the time while pregnant and don’t go into labor,” I snap.
He runs his hands through his hair and looks at the ground. “Why do you have to push this?”
“Why do you?” I yell, and then close my eyes, knowing I'm letting my temper get away from me.
I take a couple deep breaths to steady myself. I don’t want to fight with him, but he has to see that even though he’s being caring, he’s also being overbearing.
“You’ve been over the top for weeks, and I know your heart is in the right place, but you're driving me insane. You have to trust me to know that I’m not going to push it. I know when I need to stop. Trust me when I say sex isn't going to bring the baby early.”
The baby kicks me in the ribs, hard, and I wince, grabbing my side. Dexter is quick on his feet and moving me to sit on the couch. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just a tiny foot in the ribs. She thinks they’re a xylophone,” I groan when she does it again.
Dexter puts his hand where the baby is kicking and pushes slightly, whispering for her to stop hurting mommy. Oddly enough, the little one seems to listen and stops for now. “At least someone listens to me.”
“Do you not trust me to keep the baby safe?” I ask, remembering he didn’t answer me.
“I do.” He cups my face with his hand. “But Wes’ birth was one of the scariest days of my life. I wasn’t there to catch you. Then, when I saw you...” He tenses up, his anguish from the day flashes through his eyes, and I cover his hand with mine.
“I understand, but that was a different pregnancy. You’re here with me now, and I just want you to relax a little bit. I promise I’m not going to do anything crazy, but if you don’t let me breathe or move out of bed—I will end up hurting you.” I smile.
