42. Chapter 42 #2
“I was just reading where this guy had a kid-sized Rolex commissioned for his daughter. You think they can do that for babies too?” He looks up questioningly at me, holding up his phone, which shows a small platinum watch with diamonds around the face.
His smile is boyish and sweet, and why the hell is he so damn adorable?
“No, honey. The babies do not need watches,” I say, trying to garner some patience at his ridiculousness. “Number one, it would be a choking hazard. And number two... Babies. Can’t. Tell. Time. ”
His lips twist in disappointment, and he looks longingly at the absurd watch. “Huh. Guess you’re right. ”
I stomp my foot in frustration. “Reno, can you stop baby shopping for two seconds? We need to talk.” At least he seems to have put all the boxes away, probably in one of the three spare bedrooms.
He looks up again, concern creasing his forehead. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
I drop the truth bomb on him. “My family knows I’m pregnant.”
He jumps off the couch, his head whipping back and forth like my family is secretly hiding behind the entertainment center to ambush us. “What? How did they find out?”
“Because I puked at the restaurant.”
Reno is on me in a second, his hand to my forehead, checking for a fever. “Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital? Did you take anything?” He spits the questions in rapid-fire succession, and I can’t help but feel touched at his doting.
“I’m fine. I smelled the anchovies on a pizza, and blech.” I make a puke face.
He doesn’t look convinced and releases me to pick up the pregnancy book he’s read about four-hundred times. There are colorful tabs sticking out everywhere, and he calls it his Baby Bible.
“I read something in here… Let’s see… Green tabs for nausea and vomiting…” Flipping through the pages, he finds what he’s looking for. “Ha! Ginger tea. Sit down, and I’ll bring you some.”
He points at his plush French-blue couch, and I inhale a deep breath for patience. “Reno, focus,” I tell him, snapping my fingers in front of his face. “Family, pregnancy, remember?”
When he sees I’m not going to sit, he takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen before lifting me to sit on the blue agate countertop near the stove.
“What happened after you barfed?” he asks as he digs through an overhead cabinet, ostensibly looking for tea bags.
“Well, Holly gets nauseated when she smells anchovies too. A lot of pregnant women have that problem with strong odors. Who the hell came up with anchovies on pizza anyway? Like someone was sitting around and thought, ‘Hey, let’s take the most delicious food ever invented and throw some stinky-ass fish on it?’”
“True. Make sure to stay away from Caesar salad dressing too. It has anchovy paste and some of them are prepared with raw eggs, so that’s not safe for you while you’re pregnant.”
“How did you know that?”
“Baby Bible,” he says, flashing me a smug look before reading the back of a small box. “So they guessed it because you got sick?”
“Yes. Well, Holly did and then blurted it out to everyone.”
He presses his lips together and nods resignedly as he puts the water on to boil. “Okay, I’ll go talk to Baylor as soon as I’m done making your tea. How mad was he?”
“He doesn’t know about you and me yet. You said you wanted to be there when I told him.”
“Right. In two weeks.” His eyebrows inch together as he walks toward me and wedges his hips between my thighs. “So who do they think the father is?”
I close my eyes and breathe deeply in and out. “A sperm donor.”
Reno’s mouth pops open. “You lied to them?”
“Not technically,” I hedge, shaking my head. “I’d mentioned the whole sperm bank thing to my siblings and Holly once before, so they automatically assumed that was how I got knocked up. So I… didn’t correct them,” I finish with a shrug.
Soft lips brush across my temple as Reno pulls me close. “Were they as excited as I am?”
I chuckle and rub my hands up and down his back. “I don’t think anyone anywhere has ever been as excited as you. But they were all thrilled and very supportive.”
“Good,” he says, leaving the cradle of my legs to work on the tea. “Because I want you to have all the support you need with the twins while I’m on the road.”
“Shit!” I say, realizing something I’d forgotten. “I didn’t even get the chance to tell them I’m carrying twins. ”
Reno looks at me oddly as he steeps the tea. “How did that not come up?”
I blow out a sigh. “Because Holly’s crazy ass started talking about inseminating beavers and turkey basters and…” I look down at the spot between my legs. “Do you think my vagina is normal? You know, like a standard size and everything?”
He snorts, and the tea bag slips from his fingers and plops onto the floor. I can see his shoulders shaking as he bends to pick it up. When he stands, he’s schooled his face, though a muscle beside his lip is twitching.
“A standard-sized vagina? What does that even mean?”
I huff. “Well, Holly said she’d use a large turkey baster to inseminate me. I mean, I know I don’t have a beaver-sized hole,” I tell him, holding up my pinky finger, “but now I’m wondering if I’m normal. Down there.”
Reno hands me the cup and then places his elbows on the countertop beside me, burying his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking again.
I take a sip of the tea—it’s actually pretty good—and wait for him to finish. When he does, not even bothering to conceal his wide grin this time, he stands between my legs again.
“Let me assure you, dream girl, you have an absolutely perfect pussy, but I wouldn’t call it standard. It’s extraordinary.”
My lips tug up on one side. “You think my pussy is extraordinary?”
Reno presses a kiss to my lips. “Baby, it is absolutely exceptional.” Kiss. “Pink.” Kiss. “Tight as fuck.” Kiss. “And delicious.”
“So in the grand scheme of things, you’d describe it as not too shabby?”
My man drops to his knees and reaches for the waistband of my leggings. “Lie back and relax, Juliette, and I’ll remind you exactly how much I love it.”
Later that night, I’m sitting up in Reno’s bed. The covers are black and gray, but he let me add a few red throw pillows to give it some pizzazz. One of those pillows is on my thighs, boosting my laptop so I can comfortably type.
“Whatcha writing?” Reno asks as he comes into the room.
“About a woman who’s worried her vagina isn’t standard,” I say airily. “But her man reassures her it’s…” I pretend to check my notes and then look at him over my red-framed glasses. “Extraordinary.”
“Hmmm, sounds vaguely familiar,” he quips. “I forgot to tell you, I stopped by your house while you were at dinner and picked up your mail.”
He hands me a small stack, and I flip through. It’s all junk mail and sales papers until I get to a hot-pink envelope.
“Awww, this is from my author friend, AK Landow. She must have sent me a card,” I say sliding my finger beneath the flap. “I told her about the babies, but she promised to keep it on the down low until we make it public.”
I pull the card out. It feels thick. Maybe it’s one of those that plays music. Or makes fart noises. You never know with her.
When I open it, I let out a shriek as something shiny shoots into the air and then rains down all around me. Like… confetti?
“What the fuck?” Reno shouts, rushing over and climbing onto the bed in a panic. He swipes at my shoulders and hair before picking up one of the tiny metallic scraps. He studies it for a long moment. “Is this a dick?”
I scoop up a handful and see that they are indeed tiny penis cutouts, and I burst out laughing. I’m going to be picking cocks out of my hair for weeks .
After almost an hour of sweeping and vacuuming confetti—as well as cursing AK—we finally crawl back into bed. Reno wraps himself around me from behind and places a hand on my belly.
I speak into the darkness, nuzzling my butt back against him. “I think since my family already knows about the pregnancy, there’s really no need in waiting until I’m twelve weeks to tell them we’re together.”
“Agreed,” Reno says against the back of my neck. “Maybe we can talk to them after the game this week? Ma and Gramps too.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say.
But you know what they say about the best laid plans…