“Franki won’t get pregnant the first time we have unprotected intercourse,” I remind myself.
“It’s statistically unlikely,”I mentally correct. But women can sometimes become pregnant even while using birth control, let alone unprotected. If our timing is right, it is possible.
She rouses to attention with a double-blink when I stand on my knees, spread her thighs to examine her, then press her legs back together and lift her ankles in the air.
“What are you doing?” The words are half squawk, half squeak.
“I don’t know! I haven’t had time to research this, yet. It seems reasonable to keep as much of my paternal DNA inside you as possible to optimize the likelihood of fertilization.”
Her abdominals tense when she giggles.
“Stop that. You’re pushing out the gametic sample,” I say.
Her giggle turns to a full-on belly laugh. “I thought you hadn’t done research.”
“I haven’t. Stay still. I’m going to push my escaping genetic contribution back inside you.”
She laughs harder as I do just that.
I suppress my smile and give her a (very gentle) swat on the ass. “Get control of yourself, darling. Baby making is serious business.”
“Then stop being so funny.”
Shaking my head, I release her ankles and sink back on my heels. Then I pounce forward and brace myself over her. “We have to start over. Round Two.”
“You’re ready to go again? Already?”
“Think about the view you just gave me.” I lift my right eyebrow. “Yes, love. I amready to go again.”
10
Baby Steps
Franki
Henryleansagainstthekitchen counter and flicks his black fidget spinner. He’s had his eyes on me all day. I don’t know if it’s the move that has him on edge or something else.
He doesn’t look upset, but he does appear to be wound like a pocket watch.
“Henry, are you—?”
Oliver darts behind a large mover’s box, then settles on his haunches, his stance straight and alert, like a prairie dog spying for predators. Distracted, I watch, knowing what comes next. Ten seconds later a streak of black feline zips across the hardwood floor straight at him. They tussle, Oliver’s tail wagging, both animals surprisingly gentle with each other as they play.
Petunia, formerly known as “Mama Cat,” lifts her head at the ruckus and yowls a warning. Then, she promptly drops her chinback to her paws, content to bask in her patch of late afternoon sun and more than done with their nonsense.
Noah adjusts his blue and yellow diamond-patterned bow tie and visibly works to accept their shenanigans. “They do bring energy to the place.”
“The word you’re looking for is ‘disruption,’” Henry corrects.
“You adore them,” I scoff.
“I tolerate them,” he drawls.
I kiss the divot in his chin. “Liar.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners.
With any luck, we’ll have a lot more disruption in our lives soon. The internal reminder pushes my heart rate into an anxious canter. My menstrual cycle is less than a day late.It’s too soon to get excited or make plans.
