I forgo the comfies and put on yoga pants and a T-shirt. It seemed much more fitting for company, although I have no doubt Addison spent her fair share of days in pajamas.
She comes into the living room and looks so adorable in her fitted white top and faded jeans with her belly bump. “Oh, Addie. Look at you.” I get up from the couch to hug her and put my hands on her stomach. “He’s grown so much since I saw you last. I can’t believe it.”
“I know. This is happening crazy fast.” She puts her hands on her stomach and caresses it. He’ll be here in my arms in ten weeks. Can you believe that? I’m going to be a mom and then you will be too a couple of months after me.” She reaches out and touches my small bulge. “You’ll be this big before you know it and you’ll wonder where all the time went.”
“Are you and Zac any closer to choosing a name?”
“I want him to be named Donavon but Zac says everyone will call him Donnie and he hates that name.”
“So what are his choices?”
She rolls her eyes and huffs. “Gareth. Tell me—if you had to guess—what do you think people would call my son when they shorten his name?”
Ugh! “Gary.”
“Exactly.” She puts her hands out. “So, how is Gary better than Donnie?”
Poor Addison. “They’re both pretty … not great for a little newborn baby.”
“Yeah, I agree with you there but Donavon is my maiden name, or it will be after we’re married, and I want to use it. It has meaning behind it. Nothing about Gareth is special.” I like Gareth, although I tend to agree with Addie on this one.
“But do you like the name?”
She shrugs. “Eh … it’s okay.”
“Then what about Donavon Gareth or Gareth Donavon?” It’s a compromise and they both get to use the name they want.
“I want Donavon Zachary.” That also seems fair since each of them will have one of their names used.
“What does Zac think about you wanting to use Zachary after him?”
“Oh, he’s fine with using his own name, just not mine. This baby is going to have Kingston as his last name so he gets his way on two of the three names by default. Shouldn’t I get to choose the other? I’m the one who’s been lying in bed miserable for over three months. Look at my ass. I’ve already gained fifteen pounds because I couldn’t do anything but eat.”
Thank God I only have another week to go with the bed rest.
It only seems fair to let her choose at least one of the names. “Have you told him how you feel?”
She looks at me quizzically, or maybe like I’m stupid. I can’t be sure which because both look about the same coming from Addie. “Are you kidding me?” I’m assuming that’s a yes.
I was once given some marital advice by a very wise woman, and although Addie and Zac aren’t married yet, I think Addie could benefit from it. “Margaret shared some secrets with me about getting what you want. I haven’t put it to the test yet but she says we, as women, hold the power of the nookie and can use it to our advantage.”
“How does that work?”
She isn’t going to like this part. “Withhold sex.”
She immediately shakes her head. “Nope. I don’t want to withhold sex. I just started having it again and frankly, I missed the fuck out of it.”
“Zac doesn’t have to know that.”
“He can kind of tell how much I missed it. I’ve been making up for lost time.” For some reason, I don’t doubt that for a moment.
“Do you want to embroider your son’s clothes with the name Donavon or Gareth? Your decision.”
“I highly doubt Zac will let me embroider any of his clothes.”
Talk of withholding sex reminds me … I’m not withholding but I won’t be getting any, either. “I’ve got a question. How did you survive not having sex for three months?” I’m looking at five whole months and then a six-week recovery period. Six and a half months total. That’s brutal.
“We had plenty of sex—just not the penetrating kind. Nothing in the vagina—that’s what my obstetrician told me—so Zac got plenty of blow jobs and I got lots of oral. And magical fingers. Zac can stroke me off like nobody’s business.” She shrugs. “I don’t have to tell you that the baby’s safety always came first, so we did what we had to do to get by.” I knew I could depend on her to give me an honest answer.
I’ve spent very little time considering the alternatives because I’ve been so scared about everything. But we have other options. And they’re good ones so we can still give and receive pleasure. We’ll just need to go into it disciplined, knowing Jack Henry can’t get inside me.
“I gotta know. What is Ben saying about all of this?”
“He was so pissed off when I told him. He didn’t want to accept that his best friend was fucking his baby sister. I think he was pretending Zac was sleeping on the couch all those nights I stayed over at his apartment.”
I think my caveman would like to think there isn’t anything like that going on between his sister and Ben, but I know differently. “Jack Henry isn’t taking it too well about Ben and Chloe, but he’ll come around.”
“I don’t think he has much of a choice. Ben seems to have fallen hard for Miss Chloe.” I’m really happy to hear that since she has it pretty bad for him.
“She told me she thought Ben was the one.”
Addie puts her hands together and cups them over her mouth. “Oh … that’s so sweet.”
“And she said he was supremely fucklicious.”
“Ugh!” She points her finger at me and laughs. “You are so wrong for telling me that. No one ever needs to hear that her brother is … those words you said.” She grimaces and feigns gagging.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay. Moving on, then …”
“What about the case with Blake? Heard anything else about that?”
“Not in a while but it should be coming up soon. I should probably call the prosecuting attorney and let him know about my … condition. I hope they can postpone everything until after the baby is born because I have to testify. I want to.”
“As you should. It’s your right to stand up and tell people what he did to you. No way he’ll walk away from this and when he’s found guilty, I hope he gets a horny cellmate with a huge dick.” Eww. Leave it to Addison to come up with something like that.
I’d like to call for a case status when Addison leaves, so I look at the clock and calculate the time change in my head. Bummer. It won’t work out today. I’ll have to wait until morning to catch Mr. Drake during office hours.
Addie and I laugh and catch up for hours. It’s good to be with her. I feel like we’ve spent too much time apart, although we’re living in the same town, only fifteen minutes between us.
I like the Addison I’m seeing. Motherhood is good for her. I guess it’s true—a baby really can change everything.
Laurelyn’s second week of bed rest has been uneventful and her late-morning appointment with Dr. Sommersby went well. Her cervix is unchanged—no bleeding, leaking, or contractions—and the baby has grown well since her last scan. It finally seems everything is getting back on track with this pregnancy. Except no sex. “Since you’re officially released from bed rest, can I take you out to lunch to celebrate?”
“That sounds really good.”
Eating anywhere besides our living-room couch will suit me. “Where do you want to go? Sheridan’s? Or what about that new hibachi restaurant? I’ve heard their sushi is amazing.”
She’s grinning. “I really want a big, fat, juicy cheeseburger and a huge order of fries with a giant chocolate shake from that fifties diner on the square—the one you took me to last year.”
Ah, yes. She was my companion then and things were still new. That morning was when I learned her real name and then she danced for me later that evening for the first
time. It was a very memorable day and the recollection nudges me in the cock, encouraging him to wake up. But I have to learn how to get that under control. I’m going to have a really long drought ahead of me.
We walk into the diner and nothing has changed—still a black-and-white-checkered floor with fifties décor. The aroma of freshly dropped french fries and frying hamburgers hangs in the air. “Want to sit at the bar again?”
“Probably not a good idea. I don’t think they’ll be very comfortable for my back so I’d rather sit at a booth.”
We choose one directly behind the spot where we sat a year ago. “I want to put some music on. You already know what I want if the waitress comes by.” She walks toward the jukebox and I watch her bum sway side to side. Even pregnant, my wife is smokin’ hot.
She isn’t gone long before she returns and I hear a familiar tune playing overhead, although I can’t immediately place it. She’s smiling and I know she wants to play name that tune, a game I can’t win with her. “I know this song but the name hasn’t come to me just yet—hold on a sec.”
I listen for a moment and then it hits me. “‘I Only Have Eyes For You,’ but I don’t know who sings it.”
“The Flamingos, silly.”
“Of course, how could I not remember? Oh yeah, maybe because I’ve never heard of them.” She’s a musical genius. “I can’t believe I married a musical Wikipedia. Is there anything you don’t know about music?”
“Possibly, but I haven’t found it yet.”
Our food arrives and L doesn’t hesitate to jump in. She takes a huge bite of her cheeseburger and ketchup drips down, landing right in the center of her swollen, pregnant cleavage. She was already beautifully endowed but the pregnancy has given her a little extra boost. Her tits look even more spectacular.
She looks down at the ketchup in the cleavage and then back to me. She licks her lips to clean the smear of ketchup from her mouth. “You’d really like to lick that off, wouldn’t you?” My cock immediately awakens at the thought of my tongue running down into that cleft.
I put my cheeseburger on my plate and lean across the table to look into her eyes so she understands my seriousness. “I haven’t been inside you for three weeks and it doesn’t look as though I will be anytime soon, so you can’t say things like that to me. It’s torturous.”
Her chewing slows and she puts her cheeseburger down. “Abstinence isn’t going to be all that pleasant for me, either. I enjoy sex too.”
I hope she doesn’t get mad at me for what I’m about to say. “I sort of have this hysteria that started when we left the doctor’s office. It’s sinking in that it will be months before I’ll have you again.”
She uses her napkin to wipe the ketchup from her cleavage. “I’m sorry. I thought I was being cute.”
I don’t want to sour her mood. “You are terribly cute … and that’s the problem. I want you but can’t have you.”
Her smile returns and I know we’re fine. “I’ll try to keep the cuteness to a minimum, then.”
“That’s probably best.”
We change the subject of sex back to music and L tells me about every song playing overhead. “I chose this one because I love it so much, but they made a mistake putting it in the jukebox because it wasn’t released until the early sixties.” I listen and recognize “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley.
“I really like this song too.” I get up from our booth and put my hand out to her. “Dance with me.”
She looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “This is a diner. People don’t dance here.”
“Maybe others don’t but you and I do.”
She giggles and slides out of the booth. I grasp her hand in mine and place my free one on her lower back. “I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t almost empty in here.”
The only other customers are an older couple admiring us from the corner booth. “They see how in love we are and it reminds them of how they were once like this too.”
We sway to the tune of the song and I hold her close. “I couldn’t help falling in love with you.” She smiles and I kiss the top of her head.
I hum the words I don’t know and whisper-sing the chorus as we sway. I return to humming when it comes to the next part I should know, but don’t. “I’ve never heard you sing before.”
“It’s not really my forte.”
“No, it’s not. Your singing sucks,” she laughs.
“Thank you for breaking it to me gently.”
“I doubt I’m breaking anything to you.”
She’s right. I can’t sing worth a damn. “I’ll bow out gracefully from the job of teaching our swarm to sing.”
She stops swaying and looks up at me. “Sure you still want several after all that’s happened with this pregnancy? This problem with my cervix isn’t going away. I’ll need a stitch every time and will be on pelvic rest for the entire pregnancy.”
No way we’re giving up on our swarm. “Abstaining for months won’t be fun, but we’ll do what we gotta do for the family we dream of having.”
“I love you, McLachlan.” I pull her close again and return to humming.
It’s true. I couldn’t help myself from falling in love with this woman. When she took my hand, I willingly gave her my whole life.
L is no longer on bed rest but that doesn’t mean she can return to doing anything she likes. She needs to take it easy, so I bring her home after our lunch date and encourage her to rest on the couch. She isn’t excited about it but eventually concedes. I can see that she’s tired, although she refuses to admit it, and I’d bet money she’s napping within fifteen minutes once I’m out of the house to scout on the vineyard.
Harold and I get in a good four hours of scouting over a vast majority of the northwest corner and I’m pleased to find no additional evidence of downy mildew. The vines look quite good for this time of year and that pleases me greatly, but not near as much as returning home to see my wife.
I enter through the kitchen and Mrs. Porcelli appears to be putting the final touches on dinner. “Smells good in here. What are we having?”
“Laurelyn said you had a heavy lunch so she asked for a lighter dinner.” I totally agree with her on that. I love cheeseburgers, fries, and shakes but that isn’t a meal that should become a habit, especially not when you have a family history like mine. “I hope salmon with rice and asparagus fits the bill.”
“Sounds perfect.” I open the fridge and take out a beer. “Did Laurelyn rest after I went to work?”
“She’s been on the couch most of the afternoon and I’m fairly certain she took a nap.” Good. She needs plenty of rest. “She says the doctor gave her a good report. I’m very happy to hear that. I’ve been quite concerned about her and the baby.”
“We’re told the danger is behind us and the remainder of the pregnancy should proceed normally with the cerclage in place.”
“That’s such good news.” She opens the oven door to check the fish and the aroma fills the kitchen. “Will you be eating in the living room again?”
L’s sentence there is over and I’m guessing she’s as sick of eating on the couch as I am. “No. We’ll dine at the table tonight.”
“Then dinner will be there for you in ten minutes or so.”
“Thank you. I’ll let Laurelyn know.”
L isn’t on the couch and I don’t find her in our bedroom. There’s only one place I assume she’ll be. She’s out in the music studio checking on its progress. She hasn’t seen it in three weeks so she’s going to be surprised at all they’ve accomplished.
Although I’m quite content with her no longer working, she’s determined to get back to composing. She argues that it isn’t right for her to not work, that she should be bringing in some kind of income, but I disagree. She’s my wife and I make more than enough to support us.
I??
?m not wrong—the studio is where I find her. “What do you think of it?”
She’s looking around, a look of awe plastered on her face. “I’m shocked. I can’t believe how much they’ve done in the last few weeks. It’s almost finished.”
“I spoke with the contractor this afternoon. He said another week and we should be able to get you in here, songbird.”
“Songbird,” she repeats. “I like that.”
“Did you take a tour without me?”
She looks guilty. “I did. I saw the workers leave and I couldn’t resist coming out for a peek.”
“It’s okay. Have you seen all you want to see?”
She takes another glance around the room. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Dinner’s ready. I told Mrs. Porcelli we’d dine at the table tonight.”
“No argument here. I’m sick of that couch.”
“Me too.”
We spend the evening on the couch we’ve come to despise. Laurelyn’s sitting on one end reading, probably the only thing that’s kept her sane these past two weeks, while I’m on the other end catching up on missed work. It’s just sales reports, something I could do in my office, but that would mean being away from her. I enjoy this quiet time together, even when we’re not talking. Just her nearness is enough sometimes.
I look up and notice L has placed her e-reader on top of her belly and has dozed off. I’m not surprised. She sleeps a lot now, much more than she did before she became pregnant. I’m glad because rest is important for her and the baby.
I place my work on the coffee table and scoot over to her. “Time for bed.”
She stirs a little and slowly opens her eyes. “Wow. I was reading a hot sex scene one minute and then bam, I fall into a coma.”
“Really? You were reading about hot sex?”
She grins, maybe even blushes a little. “Did I just admit that?”
“Yes, you did.” I place her e-reader on the table next to my paperwork and grasp her hands to help her up. “Come on, pervert.”
She goes into the bathroom to do her nightly ritual and I’m already in bed when she comes out. She climbs in next to me, wearing a pink and white cotton gown. It’s lacy around the neck and innocent looking, not intended to be sexy at all, but my cock rouses simply by seeing her get into bed next to me. I know better. I shouldn’t look at her when she leans over to turn off her bedside lamp, but I can’t not look because her gown has gathered around her bum. I catch a glimpse of her pink cotton knickers and I’m immediately sorry. Ugh! I’m going to have to downgrade to jerking off—and soon. It’s not like I haven’t done it before, although it was mostly as an adolescent.