18. Chapter 18
Aspen
Ilay in bed staring at my ceiling. I’d rather be sleeping, but instead I can’t stop thinking about Rhett’s appointment.
It’s criminal that it takes that damn long for results to come in.
If I’m this freaked out about it, I can only imagine what he is going through.
My heart breaks for him. We will be on the other side of this soon, though.
“Ugh.” I aggressively flop to the other side of the bed. No one told me how annoying it would be not to be able to get comfortable with a bump constantly weighing you down. My nausea has gotten significantly better, which I guess is a positive.
I wonder how serious Rhett was about the whole “call me if you need anything” offer. I could just text him and see if he is awake. If he’s not, I’ll just have to be in misery until tomorrow.
I reach over to my bedside table and grab my phone.
He texts me every day to see how I am feeling and if I need anything, which is painfully sweet.
I find myself craving his presence more and more every day.
It doesn’t help that my hormones are ramped up to one million and that pull I feel to him is unyielding.
You know what? I am just going to text him.
Me: You up?
Sending you up at this hour is feeling like a booty call.
No less than twenty seconds after I hit send, I get a response back.
Rhett: Yeah, are you okay?
Skipping the text, I immediately press call on his contact picture.
“Everything okay?” The worry in his voice makes my heart twinge.
“No, I can’t sleep.” I cringe at how whiny I sound, but I can’t help it. Baby wants a snack, and they want it right now.
I hear a soft chuckle on the other end of the phone and relish the warmth it brings me. “And why can’t you sleep?”
“Don’t laugh at me, but I really want a frosty and French fries. But I don’t want to get out of bed; I’m warm and comfy.”
“And you’re thinking I want to get out of bed.”
“No, but your baby told me to tell you that they also want a frosty, and I figured since it was for the well-being of our child you would be more willing.”
“Alright, I’ll go get you a frosty. Does baby want anything else while I’m out?”
“No, I think that should be good. I’ll unlock my door so you can just walk right in.”
“I think the fuck not.”
His sudden change in tone startles me for half a second. “Uh, why?”
“Because if I can just walk in, so can anyone else. I want you safe. I think I still have a key somewhere in my truck. ”
My body thrums at his protective nature. It has to be the hormones; if he had told me that any other time, I would have laughed at him. But something about him being so vocal about keeping me safe has me craving something else entirely. The thing that got me in this exact predicament.
“Okay, I’ll keep the door locked. Will you call me when you get close though?”
“Yes, honey, I will call you. Now try and get some sleep; I'll be out the door in five minutes.”
“Thanks, Rhett.”
“Anything for you.”
“Do you mean anything for baby?”
“Them, too. See you soon.”
He ends the call and I can’t help but feel such peace knowing this man really would do anything for me.
My body relaxes, either from hearing his voice or from knowing my frosty is on the way and I doze off.
My eyelids flutter open to the sound of the door closing and for the briefest moment I worry that I am being robbed. And then I remember I conned my baby daddy into getting me food at nine pm. Poor guy.
I sit up, stretching my arms above my head. That was a very restful power nap.
Rhett peeks his head into my room. “You doze off?”
“Yes, the thought of knowing food was on its way was enough to calm me.”
He sits on the end of the bed and pulls out the French fries. The smell hits me and my mouth immediately begins watering. He hands them my way. “Here are your french fries,” he puts a spoon into my frosty, “and the dipping sauce in the form of ice cream.” He looks at me like I'm weird.
“Have you seriously never tried this before?” I grab the fry and scoop a bit of ice cream on it. “Try it, and then tell me I'm wrong.”
He looks at me, slightly exasperated, and does a very unnecessary sigh.
“You’re acting real inconvenienced considering a pregnant woman is willingly sharing her food with you,” I chide him for being a pain in the ass about my delicious food.
He shakes his head with a grin spreading across his lips; my eyes stay stuck on them. I start envisioning all the things those lips have done to me, the way his beard scratches against me when he would lean in, even better when he—and now I'm hot and bothered. Awesome.
With that feeling flooding through me, I use it as a confidence booster. “Open,” I demand. Not giving him any space to say no.
He obliges, like the good boy he is, and closes his lips over the tips of my fingers.
His eyes meet mine, and I can see the desire begin to burn in them.
My whole body breaks out in goosebumps and I can feel my lower half begin to throb.
The problem is, I know what his mouth is capable of and I’d do anything to have it on me right now.
He blinks a couple of times, and I see it. I see the second he gets control and pushes himself back.
He plasters on a smile, and it feels a bit too forced. “I have to give it to you, that’s good.” He reaches over and tries to grab another bite as I shake off the feeling of disappointment.
“If you think I am sharing more than that one fry, you are out of your God damned mind.” I go to shove his hand away.
He tilts his head back and lets out laughter, and I swear I feel a flutter in my stomach, but it’s not butterflies. Or gas. Which I have had plenty of as well. My brows pinch together as I try and figure out what that is.
“What’s wrong?” Rhett asks and the flutters happen again.
“Oh my God, I think I’m feeling the baby move. It’s not strong, but I can feel something.” I set down the fries and put my hand on my small bump, hoping I can feel it on the outside.
Rhett’s smile is devastating. It wrecks me to my core. The weight of how good we are together sits between us like a damn elephant in the room that neither of us is addressing.
“Can you feel it?” he asks, leaning forward, pressing a hand against my bump, excitement threaded through his words.
“I don’t think so; it’s really early to be feeling the baby. I think it’ll be a couple more weeks before you can feel the kicks from the outside.” My hand runs over my stomach. “Sometimes this doesn’t feel real, but there’s a whole person inside of me right now.”
His eyes soften, and the smile turns gentle. “Our own little person.”
“I hope they’re strong like you.”
His hand is still resting on my belly. “I hope they have your humor and heart.” His fingers move to brush over mine.
I look down, feeling too much that I shouldn’t. “Thanks for coming and bringing me a sweet treat.”
“I meant it when I said you’re not alone; whatever you need, I’ll be there every step of the way.” His hand squeezes the one I have resting on my belly. “Now eat your fries and frosty.”
He is so good at keeping me comfortable that I have to wonder whether he knows I’m feeling too much and is purposefully lightening the mood, or if it is just second nature for him to be so in tune with my needs.
“Well, hopefully the baby is less bossy than their dad,” I say sarcastically as I pick up my snack.
“Yeah, because you are totally the opposite of bossy.”
“Hey! I was raised around you hooligans; I had to be bossy or you would all walk all over me or forget I existed.”
“There is no way in hell anyone could ever forget you exist.”
“Is that a jab about how loud and ‘annoying’ I am?” Not my words, but my brother called me annoying every chance he got when we were growing up.
“You aren’t annoying; you take up space and make sure people know you’re there.
That isn’t a bad thing; you’re impossible to miss in the best way possible.
The never-ending bright spot.”My cheeks burn with his compliment; we’ve talked a lot like this before, but I feel more stripped bare now, thanks to my dear friend estrogen.
She likes to remind me of how his large hands felt on my body, the way it felt when his beard scratched against my neck.
I’ve got to stop thinking about this. I swallow, trying to force my arousal down.
He looks around the room for a minute. “Well, I guess I should get going.”
I don’t want him to leave; I have missed this so much. Just being with him. Being us. “Or, you could stay and we can watch a movie and argue about baby names?” I taunt.
I half expect him to make up an excuse for why he needs to leave, but he doesn’t. He kicks off his boots before walking over to the other side of the bed. The smile that stretches across my face literally hurts in the best way possible.
My full-size bed doesn’t leave a lot of extra room, but I don’t think that it would matter. Rhett sits close enough for our shoulders to touch. “I’m here as long as you want me. But let me get my phone out to start running ideas past you.”
“You’ve been writing down baby names?” I ask, slightly shocked.
“I’ve got more on my ‘absolutely not’ list, but yes. What movie do you want to watch?” he asks as he opens the notes app on his phone.
“You pick. You brought the food,” I offer.
“Wow, hell must be freezing over if you’re letting me pick a movie,” he jests, looking down at me with that twinkle of amusement in his eye.
“You better pick well or it’ll be your last time. No pressure.”
He shocks the hell out of me when he turns on ‘She’s the Man’, I whip my head around to him, having a smirk stretched across his face. “I’ll save the Westerns for next time.”
I groan. My dad made me watch so many Westerns. If I ever see a movie with John Wayne in it again, it’ll be too soon.
He starts reading through his no list, and we quickly fall back into our normal routine.
His free hand begins to get comfortable and before you know it, it’s resting on my bare thigh.
I try to focus on his words, so in tune with his touch.
His touch has always been like a soothing balm on an invisible ache.
Before long, I feel my eyes getting heavy and I know I’m about to break one of my cardinal rules.
At this point, the rules are futile; my heart’s his. Always has been.