He lets go of me, and my eyes flutter open. “See? You win sometimes.” He rubs his nose with mine and smacks my ass before walking to the truck.
“You’re lucky you are really hot”—I march to the truck and open my door—“and you are okay in bed.” That makes him laugh, and I hide my smile as I reach for my seat belt.
“Did you get the bag I packed?” he asks me, and now I look at him with a soft smile.
“Yes. It weighs a hundred pounds.” I put the bag on my legs.
“I just want to make sure that if you don’t have time to stop and eat, you have food.” After dinner last night, he cut me some fruit and then took out a couple of protein bars and some fruit snacks. He also made me a grilled chicken, cheese, and lettuce wrap because I mentioned how I like wraps.
“If you get out and walk me to the door, I’m never going to live that down,” I tell him when we reach the station.
He laughs. “Okay, I won’t walk you to the door, but I’m not not kissing you.”
“Fine,” I give in.
He leans over the console and kisses me. “See? Again, you win.” He kisses my neck. “Call me when you get a chance?”
“I will.”
I enter the station as quietly as I can, knowing the firemen are sleeping. They also do twelve-hour shifts, but their change is at 7:00 a.m. A couple of us have complained about our shift changes being in the middle of the night, and we’ve requested an adjustment, but it is always ignored for reasons unknown.
I walk up the stairs and head to my locker before grabbing my uniform and going to change. Only when I try to zip up the pants do I stop and look at my little bump. It’s coming along. I try in vain to get the button closed, but nothing will make it fit. I look up at the ceiling and know that in the next week, I’m going to have to come clean to everyone. I’m almost at four months, way over the twelve weeks. I take out my phone and send Theo a text.
Me:
My pants don’t fit me. I need to come up with an excuse.
Theo:
How about “I’m having a baby?”
Me:
Thanks for nothing.
Theo:
Baby, there are parts of you that have changed.
I don’t bother texting him because he calls, saying, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You basically just called me fat,” I point out.
“I did not. Don’t ever say that out loud again,” he says, exasperated. “Baby, your body is changing.”
“I look the same.” Though my bra feels tighter. “Okay, my boobs have gotten a bit bigger”—I check behind me—“not my ass though.”
“You were perfect before. You are perfect now, and you’ll be perfect after you have our baby.”
“Barf,” I retort. “I have to go.”
“Have a good day.” The gentleness in his voice makes me shake my head and disconnect.
I go through my bag, grabbing an elastic out of my makeup case, and do a loop with it before putting the button through it. “That’s better.”
I’m pinning my hair on top of my head as Roman comes in. “Hello,” I greet, and he grunts. “It’s two weeks, and then we’ll be back to your vampire hours,” I remind him, knowing he prefers that shift over this one. “I’ll be in the common area.” I pat his shoulder, grab my bag, and walk out.
The morning is so slow. I sleep for two hours sitting on the couch before we get our first call three hours into our shift. I jump up, grabbing some snacks from my bag in the fridge before heading out.
