Plus… she let it slip a few days ago that she’s stopped wearing underwear whenever she’s at home. Yeah. Cue all the blood rushing from my head to my cock and a long embarrassing silence over the phone while I attempted to get control of myself.
I’ve revisited that image quite a few times in the last few days, naturally.
But …
I shake my head to clear the picture from my mind.
Back to our nightly calls. I visualize her in that damn cute t-shirt. She’s curled up on her side–curled around our growing baby–and that wild mane of dark curls is spread out on the pillow around her. Maybe she’s wrapped around that U-shaped pregnancy pillow she got last week.
And maybe I’m a little jealous of that stupid pillow.
And maybe the moonlight is shining through her window and gilding the fine features of her lovely face in a soft silver glow while she shares with me the latest gossip from the café.
Lucy tells me about the customers that got on her nerves, including the latest ‘throw down’–her words–that she had with Mrs. Abernathy, who’d pitched a fit when Lucy had refused to put her election sign in the window of The Bean and called her a villain to democracy. She talks about her lunch date with Piper and Steph, and about her hopes for the baby.
I quiz her endlessly about how she’s feeling,whatshe’s feeling, and the latest changes to her body. She whines and tells me it’s TMI, but I want to know. Is it crazy that I want to know if she has to pee seven times in the night, or has gas? That I want a report on how often the baby kicked that day or if she needs more of that oil for stretch marks? Maybe, but … I stilldo.
I tell her about the cases I’m working on–as much as is allowed. I tell her about my memories of working on cars with Pops, and about the look on Aidan’s face when he wiped out in the mud during an altercation with a perp two days ago. Said perp was the infamous ‘Scary Larry,’ the town drunk, and the crime was indecent exposure. And it wasbeyondindecent watching the two of them roll around on the ground together like mud wrestlers. Aidan had screamed at me to jump in and help but I’d just stood there, frozen with shock and amusement, watching him slide around in the dirt and downpour unable to get a hold of the slippery nude man. Turns out it wasnotAidan’s first up close and personal encounter with Larry’s schlong, which had only made the story even funnier in the retelling. I’d lain there in bed, clutching at my stomach and struggling to breathe between gasps while I’d recounted it to a cackling Lucy and thought to myself:I could do this forever.
That Iwantedto do this forever–spend my nights chatting with her about everything and nothing.
That I just loved to hear the sound of her voice at the end of the day.
That the only thing that could make it any better was if she were there in person. Curled intomyside, pregnancy pillow be damned.
Sigh.
This is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other since that first doctor’s visit, and it’s time to remedy that. I miss her. And I think–no, I know–she misses me too.
I start up my car, reveling in the deep purr of the large engine. Something like pride fills me every time I hear that sound. Pride in the workmanship … and nostalgia.
I turn on the windshield de-fogger and whisper to the silent car. “I miss you, Pops. But I’m good. I’m finally doing really well.” I swipe on the wipers and throw the car into reverse. “And it’s only going to get better,” I mutter determinedly to myself.
The rain is letting up a little by the time I pull into the spot behind Lucy’s. I’ve even caught a few glimpses of sunlight trying to peek between the clouds.
I’m humming to myself as I take the stairs to her apartment two at a time swinging the small gift bag that I’ve brought along with me at my side.
The door opens and there she is. Her face lights up at the sight of me and I’m struck stupid.
She’s that happy.
To seeme.
“Noah!” she exclaims, and she does a little hop.
A damn hop!
I am such a goner for this girl.
And then I notice that she’s wearing that shirt. The She-Ra one. With black skin-tight leggings, and her feet are bare. Her cute toenails are painted a bright green. I swallow thickly as I take her in. The fabric of those leggings molds perfectly to her curves and I’m trying desperately not to let my mind wander back to that whole ‘no panties’ conversation …
Crap.
I trail my gaze slowly, ever so slowly up her body. It’s an effort to tear my eyes from the smooth lines of her hips. I’m pleasantly surprised to see that goosebumps have risen on the exposed skin of her forearms.
I drag my gaze higher …
I don’t think she has a bra on either. I watch as her nipples appear to tighten beneath my stare. Her breasts have grown noticeably larger in the last month and I can’t say that I haven’t thought about them. A lot. Particularly when I’m in the shower, cock in hand. I mean, heck, they were practically bursting from the V-neck of her top at our last appointment with Doctor Lee. It was a struggle to look anywhere else, to even follow what the doctor had been saying that day.
