13. Sleepy Voices
Chapter 13
Sleepy Voices
Darcy || 18 weeks pregnant, October
I wake up to a warm body next to me and one toned, golden arm beneath my head. The other arm is tucked beneath Tatum’s head as he sleeps beside me. I know that I told him to go after I fell asleep but I’m glad that he stayed. I find myself studying his features, his dirty blonde hair sticks up in all different directions, his lips slightly parted as snores escape him, and his eyelashes flutter lightly as he dreams. I quietly lean up onto my right elbow to inspect his bicep tattoo up close. A cluster of roses, chrysanthemums, and daffodils sit along his bicep. Roses, I assume because of his mother's name. I’d also venture to guess that the other flowers might be his father's and sisters' birth month flowers. I’ll have to remember to ask him.
“Good morning, Mama.”
I startle—his eyes weren't open so I assumed he was still sleeping as I ogled him. He chuckles, a deep and throaty sound, “I could feel you staring.” They say sleepy voices are sexy but those sleepy laughs sent my ovaries into overdrive.
I brush him off, feeling heat crawl up my cheeks. I can almost guarantee I’m beet-red right now. Tatum’s hand comes up, brushing a hair out of my face and leaning into me. Just as luck would have it when I think he is going to kiss me, a wave of nausea rolls over me that I quickly realize is more than that. Jumping out of bed, I barrel into the bathroom and slam the door behind me. Once I am no longer emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet, I brush my teeth, shower, and fix my hair. Exiting, I find my room empty but see a Gatorade, a scrambled egg, and a piece of toast sitting on my nightstand.
My phone lights up with a text.
Tatum
Sorry that my *almost* kiss made you vomit.
Oh god. Another one pops through.
Tatum
Kidding, I know it was the blob. I had to go change and get to work. I may have slept in later than I was supposed to and was running very late. Sin should be there soon.
I do want to talk about that *almost* kiss later though.
Me
Yeah, of course, Tate. It definitely wasn’t the *almost* kiss. Thank you for breakfast.
Another text comes through, only this time from Sin.
Sin
Please tell this doorman I am supposed to be here before I lose my patience and the free massages I was promised for the next year.
I quickly call down to the front, letting him know Sin is supposed to be here, before heading to the entryway to greet my friend.
“Hi, D. Hi nugget.” She greets me, then my stomach, wrapping me in her arms before pulling away to look me up and down. Probably taking a physical inventory and mentally checking boxes as she does.
“I’m fine.” I involuntarily roll my eyes towards my friend.
“If you were fine, then I wouldn’t be here right now.” Sin fires back, “I know that you are capable of taking care of yourself, but your baby daddy offered to pay for massages for a whole year if I came and Mother Henned you today. Who am I to turn that offer down?”
“Well you’re lucky that I’ve missed you, otherwise I’d be sending you on your way.”
“Oh, the drama.” She flails her arms in the air for emphasis.
“Who? Me?” I make a show of pointing at myself. “I saw a clip of some new, trashy reality love show, wanna binge it until I decide I need a nap?”
“Now you’re speaking my language, let’s go.” Sin laughs, linking her arm in mine.
We make ourselves comfortable on the black sectional that takes up most of the living room, each grabbing one of my fuzzy blankets. I curl up in what I’ve deemed my corner, while Sin makes herself comfortable on the other end. I press play on the first episode, immediately knowing we are going to eat this show up.
“Harry is going to go after Isla, but you know she is going to go for Dean and his big dick energy.” Not getting any sort of response, I turn to my friend who annoyingly has her nose in her phone like she has for the majority of the episode. “Earth to Sinclair.” I snap my fingers, her vibrant green eyes snap up to mine and her fair skin blossoms to a color akin to a freshly bloomed rose.
“Uh, yeah, sorry.”
“Sin, were you even paying attention?” I grumble in her direction.
“Of course I was. I think that Dean is going to go for Maya though because she seems unattainable.”
“Yeah, but Maya already said she doesn’t want anything to do with Dean.”
“It’s a challenge. Men like a challenge.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively at me.
“Who has you so entranced on your phone that you weren’t even keeping up with the show?” Sin is not often easily distracted, so whatever—or whomever—has her attention must be important.
“It’s no one. Nothing. Everything is fine,” she forces, through an uncharacteristic stammer. Sin is very rarely at a loss for words.
“Nope. No way. You’re not getting out of this. Tell me.” I push. Sin tends to be an open book, so her dismissal is worrying.
“Fine, but you have to promise not to judge me or tell anyone,” She gripes. “It’s not what you think, okay?”
I mime zipping my lips closed and throwing the key away. “Alright, continue.”
“Dom was texting me.”
“Like, Dominic Montez, the Manta player?” I do a poor job masking my shock, taken aback by her giving him any sort of attention.
“We all traded numbers for Kodi and Mav’s wedding stuff, right? Well, he won’t leave me alone.”
“Leave you alone about what?” I ask, watching color begin to creep into her cheeks again.
“Nothing, honestly. Just Dom being Dom.” She shrugs, placing her phone face down on the arm of the couch.
“Mhmmm,” I acquiesce with a hum. “On that note, want to watch some more episodes?”
“Yep, definitely, let's do that.”
It’s as if she had laser beams for eyes with how focused she is, as we continue to binge our show. We make small comments here and there until I feel myself get sleepy. My eyes get heavier until I succumb to my relaxed state and the softness of the couch.
* * *
I wake up to my phone buzzing repeatedly beside me, Sin is still with me on the couch, her eyes closed softly as she rests. Flipping my phone, I see that it’s two PM and Mom is lit up on the screen. I hesitate in a silent debate about ignoring her call, but despite how upset I still am with my parents, the nagging thought that something has happened to them wins me over. I carefully and quietly exit the living room, padding softly into my room to take the call.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Darcy Marie, I thought you had died. I’ve been calling for weeks.” Her voice is laced with an unmistakable edge of annoyance, and yet not a hint of an apology coming my way.
“I’m aware, Mom, but I’ve been busy dealing with work and this pregnancy—that thing you wanted nothing to do with.”
“I never said that,” she dismisses without hesitation.
Of course, she didn’t.
“Okay, well, what do you need, Mom?”
“I just wanted to check in and get some info about your baby shower. Have you picked a date for it? How many people can I invite, and have you inked a contract for your photographers?”
I refuse to believe for a moment that her intentions are sincere. She only wants to play the part of the dutiful Grandma. The photographers are so she and Dad can post about it—so not happening.
“Absolutely not, mom. You are invited and you only. I don’t know when or where it’s happening yet but if you show up with photographers, they will be asked to leave. And you know what? Let's back up. What is with the sudden change of attitude? When you found out it was a big problem!”
“While your father might not approve, I want to be involved. The photographers are important to document a big milestone such as this.”
“Yes, for your socialite friends and the media. Again, Mom, you can attend but if you continue to push then I won’t be extending an invite to you at all.” Setting boundaries with my parents at twenty-five feels weird, but better late than never.
“Darcy Marie, you should be more aware of the world you were raised in and be grateful for everything your father and I have done for you.”
“I gotta go, Mom. I’ll text you, bye.” I don’t even bother waiting for a response before ending the call. As I’m catching my breath, Rose’s name pops up on the screen, calling me.
“Hi, Rose,” I greet, knowing she can’t see my smile but hopeful she can feel it in my voice. She regularly checks in on me, providing constant reassurance when I have a weird feeling, or fear. She has been sending Tate and me little gifts for the blob, adding steadily to the almost-overwhelming pile of things sitting in the soon-to-be nursery.
“Hey Darcy. How are you doing? Do you need anything? Tatum mentioned you had a pretty severe migraine yesterday.” Concern is evident in her voice.
“Geez, he’s just telling everyone about that, I guess.”
“It’s only because he cares about you, sweetie.”
“No, I know.” A wave of guilt crashing over me. “I am feeling better today, but I didn’t take care of myself yesterday like I should have—which is how I ended up with the migraine.”
“I’m glad that you are feeling better. Your gender appointment is next week right?” She asks, excitement now creeping its way into her tone.
“Yes! And then we will slowly let everyone else know. Immediate family first, obviously.” I chuckle.
“Great! I look forward to hearing from you. Love you, Darcy.” She always ends our calls or texts by telling me she loves me. Despite this being a normal thing that people do when they care for each other, I find myself struggling to say it back. Even so, she continues to tell me, to let me know she cares for me as if I’ve always been one of her kids. Like Tatum, and the twins.
“Thanks for checking in. Bye, Rose.”