Noah nodded. “I really would like to be at your appointments, yes. And the ultrasounds. As far as the tests, anything else related to your health and the baby’s—I’ll leave that up to you. I trust you, Alison. I know you’d never do anything that would put the baby at risk.”
“All right. Thanks.” I could do this. One appointment a month for the next five months, then once a week until the baby was born. I could deal with that much Noah without losing my cool and jumping his bones. Couldn’t I?
“Where are you planning to have the baby? Which hospital, I mean? I assumed Tampa, but it’s a little far away from you, isn’t it? Is there something closer?”
I took a long drink of water before answering. “I’m thinking that maybe I won’t go to the hospital at all. My midwife also does home births, and I thought that might be the option that’s the most appealing.”
“Holy fuck, are you serious?” Noah didn’t look angry, just surprised. “Sorry. I just thought with you being a doctor and all, you’d want all the medical stuff possible close to you.”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “Birth is a natural process. As long as I’m healthy and the baby is, too, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to labor and deliver at home. If something were to go wrong, the midwife says the county hospital would be close enough. It’s not necessarily ideal, but there are doctors there who’d be able to intervene.”
Noah’s brows drew together. “Hearing you say that the backup hospital isn’t ideal doesn’t make me feel great about it, Alison.”
I waved my hand. “Well, that’s something we can talk about further down the road. For now, I’d like to plan on a home birth. If you have strong objections, I’m happy to discuss them, but I have the final word on this.” I patted my stomach. “My body, my decision.”
Noah didn’t respond, and I didn’t miss the stubborn expression on his face. Still, I decided this was a battle that could be waged later on.
Apparently, he decided the same thing because he shifted the topic of conversation slightly. “I’d like to be in the room when the baby is born unless you have strong objections.”
“That’s fine.” I nodded. “Are you going to want to cut the cord? Catch the baby?” I was mostly teasing, and it was even funnier when Noah’s face went slightly green.
“Uh, I don’t think so. That’s why we have the professionals, right?”
I laughed. “True.”
We ate in companionable silence until both of our plates were empty. When I started to get up to clear the table, Noah stopped me with a hand to my shoulder.
“I got this. Sit.” He picked up both of our plates and carried them to the sink to rinse them off before sliding them into the dishwasher. “Hey, I know you said you don’t love sweets right now, but I did bring over a little dessert if you want to check out the smaller box.”
I reached for it and took a peek inside. “Oh, my God. Cannoli. I love these.”
“Think you can eat one, or doesn’t it sound good right now?”
I considered. “They smell good. Maybe just a taste . . .” I lifted one to my mouth and crunched down on it. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus. This is so good.” I demolished it and was licking my fingers before Noah even made it back to the table. “I guess some sweet things are still appealing.”
“I see that.” Noah glanced from the box to me and back again. “Are you still hungry? Do you want the other one, too?”
I hesitated. “Don’t you want it?”
He grinned. “Go ahead. Enjoy. I’d rather see you eat it, anyway. I need to watch how many calories I’m taking in now that I don’t have practice and conditioning to keep me in shape. I don’t want to get fat.”
I made a noise of disdain. “As if. You’re built like—” I stopped speaking. “I mean, I’m sure you’d never let that happen.”
“Maybe not. But I gotta stay vigilant.” His forehead wrinkled. “Did you know there’s a thing where dads gain weight? It’s like a sympathy symptom deal.”
“Oh, my God, I’d love to see that.” I had a mental image of Noah with a baby bump, hands on his back as he moaned and groaned. “Maybe youshouldeat this cannoli.”
“You’re evil.” He scowled. “I’m planning to hold onto my girlish figure.”
“Lucky you. I’m going to look like a whale, and you’ll still be turning all the women’s heads.” I meant it as a joke, sticking with our light banter, but as I said it, suddenly it didn’t feel so amusing. I thought about Noah, looking svelte and sexy, footloose and fancy-free while I was huge, committed to motherhood for the next eighteen years.
God, this whole process was so unfair.
“No way.” Noah shook his head. “You won’t look like a whale. You’re gorgeous, Alison. Carrying our baby . . . that won’t take away from your beauty. It’ll only make you shine brighter.”
I didn’t answer him. This Noah—the sweet, funny, and effortlessly hot man I’d known a few months ago—made me feel off-balance and a little dizzy. He was so completely different from the man I’d seen yesterday at his house, the guy who’d accused me of lying to him about being pregnant. While I’d been pissed off at that Noah, I felt safer around him because he didn’t get close to touching my heart. It was easier to pretend I didn’t care about that version of the man.
Needing to find my balance again, I finished the cannoli and wiped off my fingers. “I have a few . . . rules for how we’re going to do this. The pregnancy, I mean—and what comes after, too. I’m willing to let you be part of my appointments, my ultrasounds, and the delivery. I won’t hold anything back from you when it comes to the baby. But I have to have boundaries, and I need you to respect them.”
