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I push myself up into a seated position and hold my hand out for the phone.
“Fine,” he says and hands it to me.
I lean over and rub my thumb upward between his eyebrows. “Stop worrying. Everything is fine.”
“Better than fine,” I hear Melanie say before she laughs.
I bring the phone to my ear and yawn out, “Hi, Melanie.”
“Girl, tell that beast of a man I can talk to you any damn time I want,” she snaps.
“We’ll get there,” I say, slightly amused.
“You did it, Tatum! You made all three lists: USA Today, New York Times, and Wall Street Journal!”
“What?” I gasp.
“All. Three. Lists!” she shrieks into the receiver. “In romance, Tatum! Ro... mance.”
“We did it!” I say on a laugh as I lean over and kiss Angelo’s cheek. “We made all three lists.”
“Yes, we did!” Melanie hoots. “Now get your ass back here, so we can have a victory dinner date. Ne, you, and your mom!”
“I’m here, Mel.”
“And planes fly in and out of that hell hole every day,” she says, not sounding as enthusiastic.
***
I stand, looking in the mirror at myself. In the past month, my breasts have grown and become even more sensitive. Two weeks ago, I winced while Angelo and I made love, and he all but jumped out of bed, worried he had hurt me, and then angry at himself for not being more cautious with me in my “current situation.” He is very attentive to every inch of my body, and I love it.
I try to push my breasts inside the dress that they barely fit in. I’m not sure I like them peeking out, and I wonder how Angelo will react. The thought excites me. Secretly, I hope it drives him crazy. They aren’t as sensitive anymore, so maybe, just maybe, he will let loose and forget my “current situation” if he has to stare at them all night. One can hope.
I run my hands down my body until they land on my belly. I try to imagine my belly has grown with this child, the one Angelo and I created together, inside of me. Honestly, I cannot wait to see my belly grow.
I turn sideways and assess the current situation that is my ass. That has grown. Of course I would be one of those women who carries her child in her ass instead of a cute, little belly.
Angelo walks into the bathroom, and I turn from the mirror. His eyes start at my feet and move up my legs. He likes my legs. Then they slowly move up, assessing every inch of me and finally come to land on my breasts. The muscles in his jaw twitches and an audible hum vibrates in his chest that hits me right between the thighs.
His eyes rise and finally meet mine. I can’t help smirking, which causes his beautiful eyes to narrow briefly like he wants to tell me something, but then reels it in.
“Come on,” he says.
“Does this dress make me look fat?” I ask, hoping to sound more female-like.
“Legs for miles and all mine, Tatum. You look more and more beautiful every day. I can’t wait until your belly is round and you can’t even get out of our bed.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I better not get that damn fat.”
“I’ll love every inch of you.” His eyes move to my lips, then to my chest again. “Now let’s go.” He pats my ass as he walks out the door.
I grab my phone from the counter and see a missed call from Melanie.
Breathe Again has remained on all three lists since it was released, and she is beyond annoyed that I told her there would be no celebration without Angelo. And I meant it. He is as much an author of Breathe Again as I am. It may not be his name on those bestseller lists, but I will not discredit what he gave me in that book.
Rubbing my belly, I think, And in my life.
“You look amazing. Let’s go,” Angelo says as he groans, slipping his feet into black dress shoes.
“Why don’t we stay home?” I ask, wondering why the gorgeous man in front of me is in black dress slacks, an ivory colored button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone, and his hair is down while he’s awake.
I have learned in our time together that Angelo always wears his hair pulled up in a manbun except when he first gets out of the shower. Then he allows it to air dry down.
He looks sexier, if that is even possible. I would happily stay home with him and strip those clothes off his body.
“Tatum, quit licking those lips and looking at me like I’m your next meal and let’s get going. I’m hungry.”
He stands up, and I turn around for him to zip the back zipper of my ivory fitted, knee-length dress. The empire waistline is trimmed out in a black satin, two-inch-wide band that makes my enlarged breasts peek out even more. I curled my hair in loose waves, and my makeup is on point tonight.
