I twist my lips at his fun pillow talk. “I can see that. Unfortunately for me, my mind is most active right when I want to fall asleep. It’s extremely inconvenient.”
He smiles. “I love when you tell me what keeps you up at night. It’s always amusing. What’s keeping you up lately?”
I think for a moment, wanting to keep it playful, not quite ready to get into the heavy. “Last night I was thinking aboutThe Cosby Show.”
“The eighties television show?” he asks in obvious surprise.
I nod. “Yes. I used to watch it on Nick at Nite all the time when I was a kid.”
“I did too,” he admits. “Why were you thinking about it?”
“The mom’s name was Clair Huxtable,” I state, “the dad’s name was Cliff Huxtable, and the show followed them and their Huxtable children.”
“And?”
“Why was it calledThe Cosby Show? Yes, it was the main actor’s real name, but no one on the show was named Cosby. Why wasn’t it calledThe Huxtable Show?”
His loud, booming laugh threatens to shake the house off its foundation. I used to hate that laugh. Now I miss it when I don’t hear it for a while. I’ve missed it terribly this past month.
“Holy shit. You’re right. I never thought of it.”
I smile. “This is the random crap that goes through my mind at night and keeps me awake.”
I start to crawl over him to his other side. “Switch sides with me,” I instruct.
He shoves me back down. “No way. This is my side. All my stuff is on the night table.”
“I don’t want to lie in the wet spot. It’s your fault you made me do that. You lie in it.”
He chuckles. “I’ll do my best not to make you come so hard next time.” He pulls my body until we’re both snuggled closely on his side of the bed. “Better?”
“I suppose.”
He’s now lying on his side, facing me in all his naked glory while leaning on his elbow. I turn to him as well, with our faces only inches apart. He runs his fingertips back and forth over my bare hip. “This is my favorite part of a woman’s body. It’s so uniquely feminine.”
“Not my tits?” I half joke. He’s obsessed with my tits. He’s always staring at them and, when we have sex, his mouth or hands are always on them.
“That’s my favorite part ofyourbody,” he answers, “because they’re complete and total perfection. In fact, they felt fuller today. Is that part of a woman’s cycle?”
If it’s the cycle of being pregnant, then yes,Ithinktomyself.
I swallow hard. It’s time. This is my opening.
I take his hand in mine, threading my fingers through his. “I did come here for something…other than the orgasms. Thanks for those, by the way.”
He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “Back at you.”
I exhale a long breath. “I got sidetracked by the sex, but I do want to talk.”
He nods. “Me too. I’ve hated the past month. I don’t want it to be like that betw?—”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out because there’s just no easy way to drop this kind of bomb.
He blinks in rapid succession over and over but otherwise remains wordless.
“I’m sorry to just say it like that,” I continue. “I had a whole speech planned, but I forgot it. Anyway, I’m pregnant. I only just realized it today. I know you didn’t come inside me beforetonight, but I guess they’re right in health class about precum possibly causing pregnancy. Whoda thunk it?”
Oh Christ. Discussing precum and health class were not in my planned speech.
