“I know as a lesbian you’re not fully informed on how men and women do it. But when a man sticks his pen?—”
She hangs up and I laugh. When the phone buzzes again and I answer, Nina’s giving me her best death glare. It was adorable when she was a kid, now it’s quite terrifying.
“Are you in love with her?”
The question catches me off guard. I shake my head. “I was, a really long time ago. She was my whole fucking world, Neens. I thought she was it. Then life got in the way and it took us twenty years to cross paths and I knocked her up.”
“Does she still hate you?”
“Maybe a little.”
“And you still don’t know why.” I sigh, but a smile tugs at my lips. “Don’t smile, Pat. This is the girl you once loved and could hurt you.”
“Seems fair since I hurt her already. Revenge doesn’t have to be dramatic.”
Nina’s expression is still full of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry, kid. We have a doctor’s appointment today and if everything looks good, I was planning to tell everyone.”
She pouts and I mirror it. “How far along is she?”
“Sixteen weeks, if my math is right.”
“I hope the kid looks like her.”
I chuckle. “I would give anything for the kid to look like her.”
“Oh, Patricia,” my sister sighs and I wince. My heart is so heavy on my non-existent sleeve and I don’t know how to hide it. “Be careful, okay? She might be the one, but you have to protect yourself.”
“I know, Neens.” The sound of Tamara’s loud and musical alarm echoes through the flat. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Love you, Pat.”
“Love you too, kid.”
I hang up to pour myself another cup of coffee and make Tamara’s tea. As I set her mug on the centre island, frustrated stomps head towards me. She stumbles into the kitchen looking angry as always. Her curly hair is wild and her face is screwed up, but she’s still so endearing. Her hands wrap around the mug and she takes a sip, ignoring how freaking hot it is, and releases a breathy moan that makes my cock jump. Then she opens her eyes and I watch her gorgeous cocoa gaze widen further as her attention lands on my bare chest.
“I stole one shirt, why aren’t you wearing another one?” she grumbles.
She’s stolen half my wardrobe at this point. “It’s too hot to wear too many layers.”
“My doctor will not take kindly to you showing up in your pyjamas.”
“I’ll get dressed for her.”
“Why not for me, then?”
“Because I know how much you like looking at me, Lotus.”
With a huff, she carries her tea to the front door, walks to the couch with the newspapers, then sits down and pretends to ignore me for the next hour. A few weeks of seeing her do this every day and it’s all I want. Forever.
“I can’t believe you chose that for our first big appointment,” Tamara says, scoffing at my clothes.
I smirk and lean back in my chair, watching her even though she’s refusing to look at me. After our respective morning beverages, I whipped up a light breakfast of ham and cheese sandwiches. We ate in silence; Tamara was still not in the mood to deal with me. We left early to beat the morning rush hour and get to the clinic on time. The wrinkle on her forehead is partly why I’m wearing this T-shirt—plain black with DAD written across in the chest in large white text. I hoped it would annoy and amuse her.
Unfortunately it’s done only more of the former and none of the latter.
“I bought you one that says MOM.”
