45. BirthAnal
FORTY-FIVE
BIRTH OR ANAL
Eve
Our conversation left me feeling closer to Lach than ever before. Opening up to me took a lot of courage. It’s hard to be vulnerable, to bare your soul to someone. It’s a raw and unsettling experience to let someone else see our cracks. I’m not here to make them bigger. Instead, I want to heal them. Much like he’s doing with me. Love is deeper than someone’s warm bed, even though a bed with Lach is glorious. It’s deeper than that with him. It makes me appreciate what we have even more. I took Rylee’s advice and talked to Jake about lightening my workload while I’m pregnant and even going part-time to give me more availability for photography. Word has spread quickly between all the women who work at Porter’s and even their friends and friends of friends. I promised them after the baby is born, I’ll get them scheduled.
I’m currently in the stockroom with Rylee, helping her take inventory, which seems easy enough except when people move things and don’t put them back where they belong.
“Do you have plans for a baby shower?” Rylee slides a box of straws across the shelf.
“Um. It’s not something I even thought about with everything going on.” With moving again—thankfully not halfway across the country—Pax showing up, and my preeclampsia diagnosis, a baby shower has been on the bottom of my to-do list.
Rylee turns to face me, leaning a shoulder against the shelf. “If it’s okay, I’d love to throw one for you.”
My heart swells, and tears prick my eyes. I know baby showers are for family and friends to show support and comfort for the mother and baby. With Lach and Jake as my only support system, I often feel alone. But Rylee, who I’ve only known a few months, wants to throw me a baby shower. It’s now nearly impossible to keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Rylee drops her clipboard on the shelf and wraps her arms around my shoulders.
“I just… I don’t… know why… I’m crying.” I choke out between tears.
“Hormones. They’re a real bitch.” Rylee giggles and squeezes me tighter. “What do you say? Can I throw you a baby shower?”
“I don’t even know who would show up.”
“Trust me. There isn’t a shortage of people who would love to support you and Lach.”
“But it’s not even his baby.” Rylee passes me a tissue, and I dry my cheeks.
She rests a hand on mine. It’s comforting. Something a friend would do. “I’ve known Lach for as long as I’ve been working at Porter’s. He’s never been involved with someone like he is with you. He’s not going anywhere. That baby might as well be his. When Trey and I got together, I saw the same thing when he would play with Abby. He adores her and loves her as if he was her biological father. It doesn’t take blood to be a family.”
I nod along. The tears well up again, and I fight to keep them at bay.
“You’re part of our family now. Just so you know, we can be a little dysfunctional at times, but the love is there, and that’s all that matters.” She gives me a warm smile. “So what do you say? Baby shower?”
“I would love that. Thank you.”
She wraps her arms around me in another tight hug. “This is great! We can do it at my house. I have a ton of space. Plus, there’s a baby balloon arch that needs to make a second appearance.”
Rylee’s house is gorgeous. It’s a large two-story modern farmhouse-style home. If a house could give me an orgasm, it would be this one. Orgasm aside, I don’t know how she did it. In a week, Rylee pulled off organizing a baby shower. Never underestimate a woman on a mission. I expected no one to show up, but the house is full. Rylee, Nora, and Dessa are here, along with Charlie, Olivia, Parisa, Hollyn, and Tatum, who all know Lach from the bar. They welcomed me with open arms. We’ve spent the last hour chatting, eating, and laughing, and it’s been the best day a pregnant woman could ask for.
Rylee organized a variety of games for us, which included The Price is Right for baby items. My eyes bugged out at the price of what all the baby items cost. I will need to save a few more pennies in my piggy bank. For another game, everyone brought a baby photo of themselves, and we have to guess who the baby was. Rylee won with only having two incorrect. Pin the sperm on the egg was hilarious, and somehow, Dessa got it every time.
Nora rises to her feet with a stack of papers in her hand. “We have one more game to play. If you ask me, we saved the best for last. Don’t flip your paper over yet.” She walks around and passes us each a piece of paper and a pen. Once everyone has their paper, she says, “Okay. Turn them over!”
I stare, wide-eyed, at the sixteen different squares with pictures of women with various facial expressions.
“You have to guess if the picture is birth or anal!”
The entire room bursts into laughter. Leave it to Nora to pick this game.
Rylee points to one picture. “Olivia, this woman looks familiar. What are you letting Ledger do to you?”
Olivia laughs. “I’m going on record to say Ledger has never put his cock in my ass.” She shrugs. “Now, my vibrator is a different story.”
The room falls into another fit of laughter. Time ticks by as we make our guesses. Based on all these pictures there’s a fine line between pain and pleasure. Honestly, I’m hoping all of them are anal because I don’t want to imagine the agony of what birth may look like. Unfortunately, I was wrong. All wrong. All the images I thought were anal were birth and vice versa. Olivia got them all right.
After most of the guests leave, I lower myself to the couch, not wanting to move for the next twenty-four hours. There was so much food, and laughter, and so many gifts. I don’t know where I’m going to put everything. But I’m so grateful. Rylee, Dessa, and Nora join me in the living room.
“Ugh, I’m going to kill Lach.” Rylee, Dessa, and I turn to Nora. She peers up at us from her phone. “Sorry. I hope you haven’t gotten too attached because he’s a dead man.”
“Technically, he’s not the baby daddy, but he gives me massages and food, so I’d like to keep him around for a little longer. What did he do?” I ask.
She slams her phone down on the couch cushion. “He told Miles about OneDate, and now he wants to join to get dating practice. The app is not a tool for education.”
“What’s the harm in him joining?” I shrug. “He’s a really nice guy.”
“Sure, he’s a nice guy. But he also has the ‘I want a girlfriend’ flashing billboard above his head. The purpose of OneDate isn’t to find a partner but to help ease the pressure from others about not having a partner. Miles will be five seconds away from asking out anyone he goes on a date with.”
“I think you’re being a little harsh,” Rylee interjects, crossing her leg over her knee.
“Nope,” Nora says with a firm shake of her head. “I’m trying to run a legitimate business. Not a daycare service.”
“If you don’t want him on the app, you could show him the ropes on dating yourself.” Rylee lifts a brow.
“Ugh, I’d rather let him join the app.”
Rylee smiles triumphantly, “There you go. You have your answer.”
Nora glares at Rylee. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“We are on your side,” I add. “But Miles is a nice guy. He deserves a fair chance, just like everyone else.”
“Fine,” Nora sighs. “But if he asks out every girl he goes on a date with, you all owe me a new handbag.” She points her finger at each of us. We all laugh but agree.
When I arrive home, I’m exhausted, but it was still one of the best days I’ve ever had. Lach helps me haul everything inside and into the nursery. I’ll work on putting it all away later. Until then, I’m ready to relax, take my socks off, and put my feet up. I ease down on the couch and rest my feet on the coffee table. I wiggle my little sausage toes. My naked sausage toes. Damn. I don’t remember the last time I had a pedicure, let alone painted my nails, and I’m in need of pretty nails. I lean forward and stretch my hand out, but my belly stops me. That’s not going to work either.
I rise from the couch and waddle up the stairs. In the bathroom, I grab a bottle of pink sparkly nail polish from a drawer in the vanity and head back downstairs. I pass Lach while he brings the last of the shower gifts inside. He eyes me warily but says nothing. The silverware drawer rattles as I yank it open. Next, I find the duct tape and pull a strip from the roll.
“What are you doing?” Lach’s voice sounds from the living room.
“Improvising.”
“For what?”
I emerge from the kitchen, wielding a wand of three butter knives secured together with duct tape. At the end of the wand is the nail polish brush, again securely fastened with duct tape. “I want to paint my nails, but this baby is preventing me from accomplishing that. This would be a great invention, by the way. Pregnant women all around the world would rejoice. They can paint their nails again.”
“Or they could ask their husbands to help them.” We both freeze at the word “husband.” That’s a road not traveled for either of us. He quickly recovers. “Or boyfriend. Partner. Pretend baby daddy. Come here.” He moves to the end of the couch to give me room to sit and stretch out. He grabs a pillow from behind him and sets it on his lap. “Sit on the other end and rest your foot here.”
“You’re going to paint my nails?” A warm sensation explodes through my chest, much like when he tells me to ride his cock.
“An attempt will be made, but I’m sure it will be better than whatever you plan on doing with this.” He takes the wand from me, rips off the tape on the brush end, and tosses the rest onto the coffee table.
I take a seat on the couch and lean against the armrest. Lach lifts my leg and sets my foot on the pillow. He dips the brush into the bottle and slides it over my toenail, leaving a streak of pink sparkle in its wake. If it’s possible to fall even more in love with this man, I just did.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?” I ask.
Without missing a beat, he continues to run the brush over the next nail and says, “In five years, I see myself doing exactly this. Sitting on the couch with you, painting your toenails while terrible reality TV plays on the television because that’s what you like to watch.”
“Wait.” My heart stammers. I would sit up if I could, but I can’t. “You’re only painting my nails because I’m pregnant and can’t. So what are you saying? In five years, you want to?—”
“Yep. Toys will be strewn across the living room. We’ll have at least one more. Maybe two. But we’ll definitely need a bigger house by then.”
“Dammit, Lach.”
He freezes and lifts his gaze to meet mine. “What?”
“You’re saying all the sweet things to me.”
“I only say them because I mean them, Sunflower.” His warm breath blows across my toes. “All done.” He screws the brush cap back into the nail polish bottle.
“Give me ten minutes for my nails to dry. Then I’m going to show you exactly how much I love you. In the meantime, I have a game for you. Will you grab my purse?” I point to the opposite side of the coffee table. Lach grabs it and passes it to me. I dig inside, pull out a folded piece of paper, and pass it to him.
“What’s this?” He peels back the edge of the paper.
“It’s a game. You have to guess if it’s birth or anal.”
“What the fuck?” he screeches and tosses the paper to the coffee table.
I fall into a fit of giggles. Dammit. I peed myself, but it was worth it.