14. Fourteen
14
FOURTEEN
I was hungry.
Actually, I was always hungry these days. I could understand why being pregnant was used as an excuse to endlessly eat.
I’d been brought up in a house where it was common to count calories. As a child, my mother had done it for us … and made no apologies. As a teenager, I was expected to do it myself.
Treats were just that … a treat once a week or so. Well, except for Zach. He spent hours at the Carter house every week, and they did not police what their children ate. In the Stone house, however, going over two-thousand calories a day was frowned upon.
Watching what I ate had become part of my daily life. It wasn’t something I was bitter about. It just was.
Getting pregnant had changed that. I was hungry all the time. The books I’d read—and the call I’d placed to the doctor’s office—suggested that my caloric intake should be between 2,200 and 2,900 calories a day.
So why did I want to eat an entire cake all by myself for lunch most days?
I was still thinking about that, while glaring at my lunch salad—no cheese or croutons and dressing on the side thank you—when there was a knock on my door. It wasn’t hard to abandon the salad—it wasn’t what I really wanted anyway—so I could see who was darkening my doorstep. I had no idea who it would be because everybody—that’s my mother, my sisters, my brother, my sister-in-law and Rex’s parents—had started dropping in unannounced at regular intervals. It was as if they had a plan to make sure that I didn’t spend too much time alone. I hated it.
The face on the other side of the door wasn’t an altogether unwelcome one, however. “Rex.” I beamed at him. Then I registered the fact that he was laden down with a bunch of bags. “Have you been shopping?”
“Um, yes.” He gave me an odd look, as if he couldn’t believe I’d asked the question. He swept into the suite without being invited and carried the bags—there had to be at least ten of them—to the table. “So, I got some stuff.”
My eyes practically bulged out of my head. “So I see.” Had I given him a shopping list? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. I didn’t remember giving him a list, however.
That was another problem I was grappling with. My memory wasn’t as good as it used to be. From everything I’d read online it was called pregnancy brain. Like … it was a real thing. People became more absentminded and stared into nothing more often when pregnant. I was determined not to let that take over my life.
It wasn’t going all that well so far, though.
“Remind me,” I prodded. “What did I send you after?”
Rex’s stare was long and lingering. “Um … you didn’t send me after anything. I picked all of this up myself. Including…” He trailed off and searched amongst the bags before returning with one. “Lunch for the two of us.” His smile was simple but heartfelt.
I recognized the bag immediately. “Is that what I think it is?” My mouth was already watering.
“If you think it’s your favorite dish from Mon Ami Gabi, then you would be correct.”
I shoved the salad to the side of the table and reached for the bag. “Gimme.”
He was a bit leery when handing it over. “Don’t bite my hand or anything.” His head cocked. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I had an egg white omelet for breakfast,” I replied as I dug through the bag. He’d gone all out. He had more than one dish.
Rex glanced at me, then at the uneaten salad. “Was that going to be your lunch?” He didn’t look happy about the possibility.
I shrugged as I opened the first container. “Oh, it’s the prawns.” I had to stop myself from hugging the container. “I can’t believe you remembered this was my favorite meal.” Suddenly, I realized I was near tears. Over shrimp. What was up with that?
Rex looked as if he wished a hole would open up beneath him so he could disappear from the scene. “You told me a few months ago. It was right before the engagement party.”
“And you remembered?” My stomach let loose a ruthless growl.
“You’re hard to forget, Ruby.”
He said it with such sincerity, I paused. “You’re hard to forget too, Rex. Will you take it personally if I stop being sweet and start making animal noises when I eat, though? I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry in my life, and I have to keep it between 2,200 and 2,900 calories a day.”
Surprise registered on his features. “First off, if you don’t eat, I’m going to be really disappointed.”
That was the only prodding I needed to flop down on the couch to dig in.
“Secondly, why do you have to keep it between 2,200 and 2,900 calories?”
“Because that’s what the books say,” I replied, not making eye contact. “At my age, it’s going to be harder for me to take off the baby weight after I give birth. The trick is not to go overboard before then. At least that’s what all the books I’ve read so far say.”
I made a groaning sound as I took my first bite. “Oh, this could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Rex’s eyebrows hiked. At that moment, however, I didn’t care how I looked. “Well … while I get that you want to get your body back as soon as possible—trust me, I would be the same way—I don’t think starving yourself is the way to go.”
“Who said I was starving myself?” I made a face. “I’m eating. I’m just eating healthy.”
“Yeah, but if there was ever a time to indulge, wouldn’t this be that time?” Rex looked pained as he sat on one of the chairs. “I mean … you guys never got junk food when you were kids. At the time, I was convinced your parents were torturing you. I do think there’s a happy medium between allowing yourself to eat a box of those Christmas tree Little Debbies as a snack every day and forcing yourself to eat lettuce and tomatoes without dressing.”
“There’s a lemon wedge,” I protested, pointing. “I can have a third of the dressing container too.”
Rex looked pained. “How about no more of this?” He grabbed the salad and carried it to the kitchen so he could dump it. “You can indulge just a little bit.” When he came back, he was all smiles. “I got you more than that, so leave a little room, huh?”
“I’m constantly starving,” I countered. “I’ll have room for whatever.”
Rex still wasn’t smiling. “Well, I got myself a cheeseburger and fries, so don’t eat that.” He snagged the other big container before I could get my hands on it. “For you, though, I got the onion soup au gratin because you mentioned you loved that too.”
I pressed a hand to my heart. I was feeling weepy again. “I do love it. I can’t believe you remembered.”
“Are you going to cry?” Something akin to panic washed over his features. “Like … for real?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I wanted to cry. It was a distinct possibility that I might cry. I had no intention of stopping the eating even if that was going to happen, however. “I cry at everything now. I saw a commercial where a puppy was talking to a cat the other day and the cat was mean and I cried for an hour.”
“Huh.” Rex was apparently at a loss. “I guess those stories about pregnancy hormones I heard growing up were real.”
“I was determined to be the exception to that rule.”
He grinned. “Or you could just be what you’re supposed to be and not follow the list you’ve set up in your head.”
I glared at him. “It’s as if you don’t know me at all.”
He didn’t look bothered by my tone. “I also got grilled artichokes, chocolate mousse, and the bananas foster crepe.”
I was definitely going to cry now. I had to swallow around a huge lump in my throat. “Nobody has ever been this nice to me in my entire life.” I burst into tears.
“Oh, geez.” Rex abandoned his burger and moved to sit next to me on the couch. It was awkward at first as he tried to get comfortable, then get me comfortable next to him, but somehow he managed it. “There we go,” he said when I went back to shoveling food into my mouth. “It’s okay.” He brushed his lips against the top of my head.
What was really weird about our current relationship was that we’d had sex, we were going to have a baby together, but we acted like platonic besties when in close proximity. The first week after the sex had been difficult, but ever since, we’d been totally fine. Our relationship wasn’t exactly the same—it couldn’t be—but it had somehow grown stronger despite the fact that we were constantly walking a dangerous tightrope.
“Listen to me.” Rex’s voice was soft as he rubbed his hand over my arm. “I know you think you need to be perfect?—”
“It’s not about being perfect. It’s about doing what’s right.”
“I don’t think forcing yourself to eat salads with lemon is what’s right. You need to unclench a little bit.”
“I’m not high-strung.” Even saying it, I wanted to laugh. I was a bit high-strung. I couldn’t be Cora Stone’s daughter and not be. “I mean … I’m not as high-strung as Pearl and Opal.” Was that really a win, though?
He patted my shoulder. “You can be high-strung. I’m okay with it. Just … try to be kind to yourself too, huh? If you want something specific to eat, then allow yourself to eat it.”
He had no idea the can of worms he was opening up there. “Dude, last night I wanted pickles at midnight.”
“That’s not so bad. Pickles aren’t full of sugar or anything.”
“I wanted to dip them in tomato juice.”
“Also not bad for you.”
“The sodium in tomato juice is through the roof. That’s neither here nor there, though. I didn’t just want the pickles and tomato juice. I also wanted a full red velvet cake to go with them.”
Genuine horror twisted Rex’s features. “Like … all at the same time?”
I shrugged. “I thought people were lying about pregnancy cravings. It turns out they were right.”
“Well, how about this?” He brushed his thumb over my cheek, and it was like an electric shock jolted through me. There was something so gentle about the motion that it touched my heart. Unfortunately, he was so good looking that it jolted something else inside of me too.
Yeah, that was another problem. I was starting to be plagued by yearnings of a different variety. When Rex had scratched that initial itch, I thought I was fine for the foreseeable future. Then I found out I was pregnant and there were other things to worry about. Now, though, I suddenly could think of nothing else.
Crap. A lot of the books I’d read said that pregnancy hormones caused horniness too. What were the odds that I would be hit with the food and fornication urges at the same time? Like … how good did drinking tomato juice while riding Rex as if he was a rodeo bronco sound?
What was wrong with me?
“What?” I blurted when I realized he was still talking. Had he realized I’d taken a flight to Never Neverland while he’d been carrying on as if this were a normal conversation?
“I just suggested that maybe, since we have regular meetings for planning the future of our little princess, that we turn them into lunches,” he continued, obviously oblivious to what was going through my head.
That was for the best. It really, really was.
“You can text before noon every day and tell me what you’re craving,” he said. “I’ll pick it up. We’ll eat together, make plans for what’s to come, and we’ll both be happy.”
My forehead creased. “How does that make you happy?”
“Because you feel better when you mark things off your list. It’s simply who you are. I feel better when you feel better.” He laughed at my ridiculous expression, then tickled my expanding stomach. “And Rexanne feels better when both of us feel better.”
I was absurdly touched by the sentiment. I was also completely focused on those pillowy lips of his. Why did he have to be so attractive? I should’ve had a one-night stand with a guy who had thin little lips, no muscles, and back hair or something. At least then I wouldn’t be lusting after him, thus putting the tenuous relationship we were embarking on as friendly parents at risk.
“Stop making Rexanne try to happen,” I ordered. I needed to put a bit of distance between us. He was too warm, too easy going. I couldn’t breathe when he was around me sometimes. “I’ll die before I name our daughter Rexanne.”
“See, I think it’s growing on you.” He released me—I immediately missed his warmth and the scent of his cologne—and crossed back over to the chair. Now that I was no longer crying, he likely figured that he didn’t need to coddle me. He grabbed his container of food and opened it. “If you don’t like Rexanne, what names do you like?”
I had been waiting for this opening. Plus, well, if I could focus on a list, that meant I wouldn’t be trying to remember what he looked like without his shirt on. I remembered the sight being glorious, but it had been wasted on a hungover me. Therefore, even though it was early, talking about potential names was a nice distraction.
“Well, since we only have girl names to look at, it’s been easy to put together a list.” I grabbed my notebook from the table and immediately went back to my food. “What do you think of Betsy?”
His frown was immediate. “Are we giving birth to a senior citizen?”
I made a face. “That’s not a name for old ladies.”
“I would never use the term ‘old ladies’ because then I would die behind the slot machines and my body wouldn’t be found for days. I would become a strange smell that everybody tried to track down.”
I laughed despite myself.
“That name is a bit dated.” He chose his words carefully. “What about Athena?”
I almost choked on my prawn. “That’s a stripper name.”
He balked. “I met a showgirl with that name two days ago.”
“That’s not any better.”
“Don’t be judgy.” He jabbed a fry in my direction. “Showgirls are people too.”
A ribbon of unease wrapped itself around my stomach. “Are you dating Athena? Because—and this is probably the hormones talking, so forgive me—I’m not sure I want to name our daughter after someone you’re in a relationship with. That sends mixed messages.”
His nose wrinkled. “First of all, I’m not dating anybody.”
I had to force myself to keep from smiling. I didn’t want him getting suspicious.
“Second of all, I have zero interest in dating a showgirl,” he continued. “I think, until the baby comes and we’re settled, I’m going to take a break with … all that.”
“Dating?” There was no containing my surprise. “You’re going to take a break from dating?” That sounded nothing like the Rex I knew.
He shrugged. “It feels unimportant given the stuff we’re dealing with.”
“But … won’t you get bored?”
“I haven’t so far. Did you see all the things I bought for our daughter when I was out today?” He gestured toward the other bags.
“Yeah, what is all of this?”
“Clothes.” He shrugged when I gave him a weird look. “I found a Little Las Vegas shop when I was picking up my new suit. It was right next door. The outfits are adorable. I even got a little Elvis onesie.”
“We’re having a girl.”
“Girls like Elvis too.” He gave me a pointed look. “Little Rexanne is going to love Elvis.”
“Seriously, I will choke you the next time you mention that name.” I shook my head. “What about Chloe?”
“Too French. What about Lilith? Lily for short.”
“I like Lily, but Lilith is way too demon.”
“Good point.” He nodded. “Do you have any other names you want to throw at me?”
I shrugged. “It’s hard to pick a name before we meet her. How are we going to know it’s the right name? I mean … I need a feeling for who she is going to be before I can pick a name.”
“I’m okay if you want to wait until we meet her. I do want to talk about nurseries, though. We’re going to need two of them, right? One for you and one for me.”
The idea of my child having two nurseries bothered me. It was the path we’d chosen to take, though, so I nodded. “Yes. Why?”
“How do you feel about decorating in ghost Elvis?”
“You can decorate your nursery however you want. My nursery is going to be done with bears.”
“Like Grizzly bears?”
I shook my head. “Charlie Bears.”
“What’s a Charlie Bear?”
“Well, they’re ridiculously expensive for stuffed bears. They’re adorable, though. They’re jointed. They didn’t come out until like twenty years ago, so I was a teenager when I saw my first one. I wanted it so bad. It was purple, with long hair. It was just gorgeous.”
My stomach tightened at the memory. “My father said I was too old for a bear and I should stop looking at frivolous things and start looking toward the future, and what I could do for the company,” I continued. “I was brokenhearted when I had to leave that bear behind.”
I dusted off my hands as I finished off my prawns. “I guess that sounds stupid in hindsight. I was too old to want the bear.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Rex countered. “I’m mad at your dad for not getting it for you. He always was a jerk, though.”
“He was,” I agreed. “He still is. As for the bears, though, now I have a chance to buy as many of them as I want. I figure a nursery is as good of a place to put them as anywhere else.”
“That sounds good.” His smile was easy and natural. “I’m still going with ghost Elvis for my nursery. They make a mobile and everything.”
“Well, I can’t wait to see it.”
“It’s going to be way more awesome than your weird bear nursery.”
I smirked. “Would you care to place a wager on that?”
He relaxed into his burger, my earlier tears forgotten. “Always.”