Ian: “Any time.”
And soon after I wake up, he messages again.
Ian: “Morning. How are the pups treating you today?”
Julia: “They’re demanding pancakes. With strawberries.”
Ian: “On it.”
And of course, pancakes show up on my doorstep within the hour. No wonder I’m feeling so blurry. Breed me and feed me, and I’m a goner, apparently.
Speaking of breeding, the pregnancy hormones have kicked in with a vengeance when it comes to my libido. I’ve read that mid-pregnancy horniness isdue to increased blood flow to all the relevant areas. What the books don’t mention is how inconvenient that is when your husband won’t touch you and the person who knocked you up is respecting your boundaries so thoroughly that he won’t even step foot in your house.
It’s probably a good thing he won’t, because all I think about these days is the way his callused hands felt on my skin when he worked out the knot in my neck. The way they felt other places, that night in his cabin when we made our pups.
I think about his mouth. The unfamiliar shape of it, the heat. His tongue.
For all those reasons, it’s a good thing he doesn’t come inside. He’s my big bad wolf, after all. My, what big hands you have. My, what a big tongue.
The better to taste you with, pretty girl.
When I have these thoughts, I press my knees together and remind myself that I am still married, still keeping my vows, still trying to be a good person for my daughters.
But god, I want Ian with the full force of my ever-expanding uterus. I want him in a way that scares me. Not just the physical stuff, although yes, absolutely the physical stuff. But I also want more notes in the takeout bags. More bedtime stories. More shoulders to fall asleep on.
I want that life with him, plus all the good parts of the life I’ve built already. But I know deep down that I can’t have both.
Chapter 27
Ian
On the Monday of Thanksgiving week, the waiting room at Dr. MacDougal’s office is packed with expectant families, and Julia and I barely snag the last two seats in the corner. A wulver couple across from us is wrangling twin toddlers while the dam’s belly strains against her maternity sweater. The dad catches my eye and gives me a look of exhausted solidarity.
You’ll see, his expression says.This is your future.
I can’t wait.
Julia’s leg bounces nervously beside me. She’s been anxious all morning, even though her previous appointments have gone smoothly. I rest my hand on her knee, stilling it.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Just antsy, I guess.” She adjusts her glasses that have slipped down her nose and rubs her stomach fondly. “The babies were doing gymnastics all night.”
I grin, thinking of our litter doing cartwheels in there. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Active pups are healthy pups.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one getting kicked in the bladder.”
I grin at her delighted, grumpy tone. Pregnant Julia is my favorite Julia. She’s lost some of that careful politeness she wears like armor, and underneath is this sharp, funny woman who says exactly what she’s thinking. I hope she stays this way after the birth.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lyall?” a nurse calls, and I love that Julia doesn’t correct her. She just hauls herself out of the chair with a little grunt and follows the nurse to the exam room, where she endures the usual checks. While she gets weighed and measured and questioned about everything, I try not to stare at the way her belly curves or think about how badly I want to kiss it. We’re both clear on why that’s abad idea. I’ll kiss the pups when they come out, and that’ll have to be enough.
Helena enters just as the nurse is finishing up, her silver-masked face bright with a professional smile. “Hi, you two! How are we feeling?”
“Fat,” Julia says cheerfully. “Tired. Hungry. The usual.”
“All normal, and we doctors like to see normal.” Helena pulls up Julia’s chart on her computer. “Weight gain is right on track. Blood pressure looks great. Any concerns about new symptoms since your last visit?”
For some reason, Julia blushes. “No.”
