“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding frantic.
“Finish me off how you started, P.”
“But what does that do for me? How does that get me off?”
“Finger pop yourself while you’re doing it.”
With a heavy sigh and disappointment written all over her face, she sucked me off, swallowing every drop I released into her mouth.
I washed, brushed my teeth, and finished my moisturizing routine before sliding into my boxers and getting into bed. Paris slid in next to me, very quiet and very pissed. That girl was up to something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. This is the same girl who trashed my house because I sent flowers—was Ireally supposed to believe she was ok with me fantasizing about another woman while I was hitting her from the back?
I turned on my side and closed my eyes, envisioning myself standing under that sunflower arch with my baby. Both.
My phone screen lit up. I tapped it, seeing it was a message from Dollface.
Mahasin:She’s sucking her thumb.
Mahasin:[sonogram picture]
I smiled seeing my baby girl in that sonogram picture, but my smile fell instantly, and I sent my reply.
Me:Did I miss a doctor’s appointment?
Mahasin:No, Ambs and I just wanted to take a glance at her.
Me:Nah, don’t do that shit without me. Baby girl probably upset her daddy wasn’t there.
Mahasin:Whatever. See you when you get back.
Me:Can’t wait.
I placed my phone on the nightstand and drifted off to sleep.
Mahasin
(Christmas Eve)
My living room smelled like roasted marshmallows and vanilla, and my eight-foot Christmas tree stood in the corner like it belonged in Chanel’s storefront window for their holiday campaign. Decorated in black velvet ribbons, looped through white pearl garland, and pink glass ornaments, I could stare at it forever.
“Next year you’ll be sitting right there, making a mess with the wrapping paper,” I said as I rubbed my belly.
A craving for the s’mores I made earlier tugged at me, so I waddled toward the kitchen to satisfy it. Halfway down the hallway, a tightness gripped low across my abdomen. The pain wasn’t sharp enough to raise concern, but it did stop me in my tracks.
“Probably Braxton Hicks. You’re fine, girl,” I said to myself.
Bracing my hand on the wall, I waited it out, counting a few breaths until the pressure eased. The medical part of my brain knew I should go sit down, but the pregnancy part made my mouth water for my snack, so I continued my pursuit of happiness.
Then a sudden gush of warmth flooded between my legs, causing me to look down.
“Aw, shit.”
I didn’t need a medical degree to know my water had broken.
I let out a frustrated sigh, shifting my weight slightly as I looked at the growing stain beneath me. “Not the Essentials sweatsuit,” I fussed, annoyed. “Damn it, this was the cream one too.”
“Alexa, call Gage Blaque.”
The device chimed and dialed, but there was no answer.
