46
Denise - I Never Piss Myself
Six Months Later
“What the fuck, Ryder?” I jump when Ryder leans over my chair and kisses my forehead. “You scared me. I wasn’t expecting you home for another hour.”
“The guys and I decided to cut out early today. Since we postponed the tour we don’t feel as rushed to complete this album.”
Ryder sits beside me in the other Adirondack chair on the private deck of our master suite. I have several giant pillows under my ass, because if I didn’t I’d never be able to get off this chair by myself. Ryder keeps trying to bring a different type of chair out here for me, but I want no part of it. To me that feels like I’m letting this pregnancy defeat me and I’m not about to let that happen, not this close to the end. I’m due next week, so I’m pretty sure I can deal with this chair for at least that long.
“Are you hungry?” Ryder asks. “I can order something. Or I can throw together something if you prefer. I invited the three musketeers for dinner, too.”
Gran and Gladys took Lana under their wing at the wedding, and they’ve been inseparable ever since. We bought Lana her own cottage at Peaceful Pines and now the three of them spend all their time terrorizing younger visitors and causing mayhem.
He grabs my hand and kisses my ring finger, the one that is missing my wedding rings. I’ve been a little swollen this week, so I took them off and I miss them. They’re on a chain around my neck for now, but I can’t wait until I can wear them again. Ryder wears his every day without fail. He says it’s because he’s so proud to be married to me; that he needs to make sure everyone knows. I’m sure part of it is that he’s having a hard time kicking his old ladies’ man image. He doesn’t need to worry about that, though. I trust him. I know that no matter how many groupies are throwing themselves at him, he’ll be coming home to me.
“I’m starving.” I say, beginning the process of rocking myself out of this damn chair. “Let me come down and help you make something. I’m feeling like a big salad. Or maybe some spaghetti. Or what about burgers?”
I rock and rock until I lean forward far enough to grab the railing in front of me and pull myself up to standing. And then I feel a pop and a rush of liquid down my legs. I look down in horror.
“I’m pissing myself,” I tell Ryder, my eyes wide and my voice low. The liquid is still flowing and since I’m wearing a sundress, there’s nothing there to catch the flow except for my thin cotton panties. “I’ve never pissed myself before.”
Ryder rockets out his chair, coming to my side. “Um, babe. I don’t think that’s piss. Has your back been hurting today?”
“Look at me! I have a twenty-pound turkey strapped to my stomach, of course my back has been hurting.” Did I really marry this dumbass? What the hell was I thinking?
“You’re right, babe, that was a dumb question. Let me get the water started for you and then I’ll come help you into the shower, OK?”
He runs inside, and I hear the water start. I strip off my dress and panties right there on the deck, leaving them in a wet pile in front of my chair, and make my way into our bedroom. Ryder comes out of the bathroom to find me rummaging through my drawers, looking for something to wear.
“Why don’t you go ahead in the shower,” Ryder says, coming up behind me and placing his hands on what used to be my waist. “And I can find you some clothes? You must be uncomfortable standing around naked.”
Rage flares in my chest, and I spin around, belly first. “What are you saying, Ryder? You can’t stand to see me naked? I disgust you with my giant belly, and pissing myself? Fuck. You’re such an asshole.”
I stomp to the bathroom and step into the shower. The warm water washes the pee from my body and quells the rage I feel toward Ryder just a little. I don’t even know where that anger came from. Ryder hasn’t been able to keep his hands off me since the wedding. We have sex all the time, and he’s constantly telling me how sexy I am.
“Hey babe,” I call out. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just hangry or something. You know I didn’t mean that.”
He comes into the bathroom and sets a stack of clothes on the counter for me. I see him strip out of his own clothes and he joins me in the shower. Strong arms wrap around me from behind, and his hard cock tells me he’s more than satisfied with the way I look. I lean back into his chest, ready for some shower sex, when I feel my stomach tighten.
“Did you feel that?” I ask.
“Yeah, babe, I did.” he says, reaching for the shampoo bottle. He squeezes a little into his hands and massages it into my hair. “I’m pretty sure your water broke on the deck, and that you’re going into labour. I’m going to help you wash up and get dressed, and then we’re going to get you to the hospital.”
Ryder read every baby book I bought, and then he read some more that he bought on his own. He’s been the most calming influence throughout this entire experience. If it weren’t for him, I’d have been freaking out going through this alone. If Ryder thinks I’m in labour, then I’m most likely in labour.
My own parents still haven’t called, except for one time a couple of months ago, when they asked if I was ready to forgive Andrew. They think if I forgive him he will have his sentence reduced and he’ll be out of jail sooner. As if I want that to happen. I’m sure I don’t need to mention they reacted poorly to the news of my marriage to Ryder, and we haven’t spoken since. Good riddance, I say. I have a much more supportive family now, and I can’t imagine ever going back to the cold, unfeeling ways of my old one.
Ryder has put a little conditioner in my hair and he’s rapidly rubbing me down with a loofah and body wash when my stomach tightens again.
“Ow, shit,” I say. “That one hurt.”
“That was pretty fast, babe. Have you been feeling your stomach tighten like that before now?”
“Well, sort of. But not as bad. It’s been happening for a couple of days.”
“A couple of days!” he yells. “We need to get going.”
