“I am, Luke. I’ve always wanted a big family, but we haven’t even had a chance to talk about it yet. I don’t know what you want or how you see us as a family in the future,” she said.
Feeling her uncertainty, I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her until I felt her body relaxing again. “Baby, listen to me,” I said, leading her to the couch. Pulling her into my lap, I continued. “My whole life revolves around you and making you happy. I’d love to have a house full of kids with you. I’ll love your pregnant belly, your midnight cravings, and every milestone along the way.
“But whether we have just one kid or fifteen, it won’t change anything. You are my life, and everything else is just the icing on the cake.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you now, Luke,” she admitted. “I know I fought you a lot on giving up my control, but I finally realized I’ve never had control when it comes to you. My heart has always made the decisions, no matter what my head said. I’m so glad it did because my head is crazy if it thinks I can do this without you.”
The morning sickness hit her pretty hard soon after the doctor confirmed her pregnancy. “Morning” is apparently a subjective term because she was sick day and night for the first four months. One day, it just stopped and she was back to her normal self. From then on, there was no keeping food in the house for any length of time.
Lying in bed one night, she was putting lotion on her expanding belly when I walked in. Seeing her like that really revved my engines more than I ever realized it would. “I may just have to keep you barefoot and pregnant all the time,” I said as I took the lotion from her.
Coating my palms with the cocoa butter lotion, I began massaging it into her skin. Everywhere. Starting with her stomach, I worked my way up her torso, removing her shirt as I went. Paying special attention to her breasts before moving to her arms, I noticed that she was just as affected as I was. Moving to her legs, I ensured every square inch of her was properly worshiped by my hands. My lips and tongue may have had a small part of this impromptu massage.
I’d heard that pregnancy hormones can make women friskier than usual, but I wasn’t prepared for the attack I had to endure. It was pure torture, the way she took advantage of me, used my body for her pleasure, and took what she wanted. When she was finished with me, I propped my spent self up on the pillows and smirked at her.
“I feel so cheap and used,” I teased.
“Get used to it. I still have five months of pregnancy to go through. You’ll be used many more times before it’s over,” she retorted.
“Yep. Definitely keeping you pregnant all the time,” I laughed.
She smacked me with a pillow. “Caveman.”
“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me. Do it again.”
“It’s time for a shower,” she demanded.
“I just finished putting lotion on you,” I protested. “You want a shower now?”
“Yep, and you’re coming with me. Then you can lotion me up again afterward.”
“Yes, ma’am. If you insist,” I said as I rushed to start the water. I heard her laugh from behind me. She knows she has me wrapped around her little finger, and I’m damn proud of it.
At our first ultrasound appointment, I tried to talk Andi into finding out the sex of the baby. She wouldn’t have it. She wanted both of us to be surprised when the baby was born so we didn’t have any preconceived notions of what our family is supposed to be. I think she read that in a new parenting magazine.
At about seven months along, she got a little neurotic about fixing up the nursery and couldn’t make a decision on what decorations she wanted to use—because she didn’t know the sex of the baby. I couldn’t help but laugh, and that got me put in the doghouse for a couple of days.
“Come on,” she announced. “We’re going to the doctor’s office.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, somewhat panicked. We didn’t have an appointment that day.
“I called them,” she said nonchalantly. “I need to know what we’re having.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” I teased. “It’s been seven months of waiting, you can wait two more months.”
“No, I really can’t. The paint has to be completely dried before my baby can sleep in there. To know what paint color to get, I need to know if it’s a girl or a boy. So we’re having an ultrasound today to find out,” she explained patiently.
“Andi,” I said, trying to reason with her. “You and I both know that the baby won’t be sleeping in the room alone for quite some time. That’s why there’s already a bassinette beside our bed.”
“Luke,” she cooed as she put her arms around me and pressed her adorable belly against me. Before she had a chance to continue sweet-talking me, the baby kicked and hit me in the stomach.
Squatting down in front of her, I placed my hands on her belly and talked to our baby. “Are you trying to tell me something, little one?” It had become a daily ritual for me to talk to Andi and then drop to my knees in front of her to talk our baby.
“Yes, the baby would like to be addressed as a him or a her and not as an‘it’anymore,” Andi clarified.
“Fair enough. Let’s go find out if we’re having a boy or a girl,” I said, secretly thrilled that she finally agreed.
Sitting in the ultrasound room, Andi waited—impatiently—for the tech to finally get to her. After she took the usual measurements and confirmed that the baby’s growth was still on target, she finally moved to the main reason why we were there. Andi’s patience was really wearing thin by the time the tech started to look for evidence of the baby being a boy or a girl.
