31. Charlie
“What’s this?” I kick off my shoes as I enter Simon’s house—which I guess is now my house—to see that multiple pans are on the stove and steam is coming out of them. “Are you cooking?”
Simon turns to me as he pulls a sheet pan out of the oven. I don’t know what’s on it, but it’s burned. And he’s wearing a “Kiss the Chef” apron I didn’t know he owned.
“I was. I’m not anymore.”
I laugh as I make my way to one of the stools at his kitchen island. This kitchen is a dream. Double ovens. Plenty of prep space. The handy water spout at the stove. Storage that never ends. And in the now month I’ve lived here, I’ve never seen him use it until right now.
“Where did you get that apron? And why are you cooking?”
“Well,” he pauses to come over and give me a kiss. “I originally bought it for you since you are the chef in the house. And I’m a fan of kissing you. But since I decided today I was cooking, I figured I’d try it on to see how it feels. Turns out, just wearing an apron that says you’re a chef doesn’t make you one. So dinner is being ordered from The Joint and will be delivered in an hour.”
I laugh, which is the wrong choice.
“Shit!”
“What? Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “I peed a little.”
I drop my head into my hands in embarrassment, though Simon’s slight chuckles make me want to laugh again. I feel him wrap his arms around me as he stands behind me, resting his cheek on my back.
“Can I take a nap right here?” I mumble, suddenly realizing how tired I am.
“You could, but then I’ll have to give you a massage later to get the kink out of your neck. Which will lead to sex. So that, my darling, is up to you.”
I groan as I sit up, Simon moving next to me. “Honestly I’m so tired I don’t know if I even have the energy to spread my legs.”
“I’d like it to be noted for the record that I could have made a joke about not needing you to move for sex, but I didn’t.”
“Thank you,” I groan, falling into his arms. “This might have been the hardest day yet.”
He brushes my hair back and kisses the top of my head. “Want to talk about it?”
“Today was a shit show,” I say. “My back has been killing me all week, so I was trying to take it easy at the diner. Which didn’t happen, because the ice machine stopped working, there was a leak in the ceiling, and both servers got sick and had to call off. Oh, and the fucking mushroom guy is still just delivering my orders whenever he wants to.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“What were you going to do? Fix an ice machine? Go pick up my order from the mushroom guy?”
“No. I have guys.”
“I know you do. But it’s not your responsibility to fix my problems. Or get my mushrooms,” I say. “Plus, I called Emmett, and he came in to help with the leak.”
I feel Simon tense against me, which is weird. Then again, everything feels weird these days so I don’t think much of it.
“Anyway. All of that happened on top of the baby deciding today would be a great day to make her audition tape for America’s Next Karate Kid. I can’t stop peeing, and I just want this day to be over.”
I hate complaining, especially because I know that even on this bad day, I’m blessed to have help and support and love.
But also fuck this day.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” Simon gently moves me up so he can stand, guiding me up with him and leading us away from the kitchen to our bedroom. “You’re going to go take off those greasy smelling work clothes and go take a shower. After that, put on that fluffy robe you love so much. And then, come back here for a delicious meal of burgers, fries, and the mozzarella sticks you love so much.”
I stand up, but not before giving him a deserving kiss. “It’s days like this where I really love you.”
“Who knew all I needed to win your heart was to order you fried cheese?”
I smile for the first time today as I walk down the hall to the master bedroom. I’m still in awe of how big this space is. I’m pretty sure just this room is bigger than my first apartment. Hell, just the walk-in closet rivals it.
Then there’s this bathroom. White tiles. Gold fixtures. A bathtub with jets and a heat setting I can’t wait to use the second this kid is out. But for now, the shower will have to do.
However many minutes of scrubbing and soaking later, I pop out, wrap my hair in a towel and pat myself dry before grabbing the robe that is calling my name. I slip it over my shoulders, but don’t close it right away, instead taking a second to look at my bump in the full-length bathroom mirror.
I don’t do this often—take in my bump that is. I know it’s there. I peek at it every day. Simon makes sure to rub it multiple times a day, including when he applies the belly butter that he insists is his job. But I rarely stand in front of the mirror and really just look at the baby I’m making.
I’m making a baby.
That’s still baffling, even as I enter my third trimester. In just a few months I’m going to be holding her in my arms. She’s going to be nursing from me. She’s going to be smiling and giggling and crying and all the things babies do.
I’m going to be a mom.
I push back the tears that threaten every time I have this thought, because it always makes me think of my mom. I wish she was here. I wish I could share this with her. There have been so many times I’ve wanted to call her to ask her about random things I’m feeling, or ask her what I liked as a baby in case Baby Bug likes or dislikes the same things.
When she passed away, I thought of all the things she’d miss, and this was one of them. But I didn’t realize then how much it would hurt when those things happened.
But they do. They hurt like a bitch.
“Hey, you okay?”
I turn to see Simon leaning against the door.
“Yeah. Just a little caught up in the moment.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything. I wipe away my loose tears and tie the robe before he walks with me back to the living room. And when I see the takeout boxes covering every inch of the coffee table, I’m crying for a whole new reason.
“I loved you before, but I love you even more now,” I say as I take a seat. I grab the box labeled “mozzarella sticks” and open it to be greeted by six perfectly fried pieces of cheese, and extra marinara sauce.
The man knows me too well.
“ERMYGERD.” I know it’s not a word, but that’s the appropriate response for a foodgasm. My nonsensical word turns into a moan when I feel Simon taking my feet and swinging them so they are now on his lap. “What are you doing?”
“You said you were on your feet all day.”
Between the fried cheese and Simon’s thumbs working into my arches, there’s a very good chance I’m going to have an orgasm in three seconds. “Remember when I said I loved you more like five seconds ago?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s even more now.”
He laughs. “Eat. Let me work my magic.”
And he does. I can’t even finish my mozzarella sticks because I’m basking in the feeling of Simon’s hands working my feet and legs. I know I said I wasn’t in the mood for sex earlier, but that was then, and this is now, and if he keeps this up we’re about to check the couch off as another spot in this house we’ve christened.
“So I was thinking,” he says as he switches feet.
“Should I be scared?”
“Ha. Ha. Keep that up and I’ll stop.”
“Never mind what I said. You were thinking, and I’m sure it was the most profound notion ever.”
“That’s what I thought.” He sends me a wink. “No, I was thinking about baby names.”
“Oh,” I say, not expecting that. “Yeah, I guess we should start talking about it.”
“Exactly. I was thinking, and I’m not saying I nailed it on the first try, but I’m pretty sure I nailed it on the first try.”
Okay, now I am scared. “Care to share with the class?”
My favorite shit-eating grin grows on his face. “Simone.”
Of course he would…
“Really? Simone?”
“Yeah. I think it’s great.”
“I think you’re an idiot.”
“Well, at least I have a name. What suggestion are you offering?”
I return the smug smile. “I think Charlotte sounds lovely.”
“Oh so that’s how it’s going to be.” Simon takes my foot and pulls me closer to him, giving him free access to lean down to kiss me. “For the record I think Charlotte Simone sounds like a lovely name.”
“It does. But people will think we’re the most conceited people in Tennessee if we name our kid after ourselves.”
“Well, they already think that about me.”
“I always knew you’d give me a bad rap.”
Simon steals one more kiss before I lie back down on the couch. Only now I’m snuggling into Simon, our food long forgotten. “I always liked the name Emily.”
Simon furiously shakes his head. “Hard pass. Veto. Absolutely not.”
I tilt my head as I study his reaction. “Let me guess, ex girlfriend?”
“I wouldn’t call it a girlfriend. Let’s just say the name Emily around this town doesn’t have the best reputation.”
“Fair enough.”
“How about Annie?”
“Like the orphan?”
“Exactly. And for Halloween she can go as the iconic character, and I can dress up as Daddy War-Banks. Get it. Instead of War?—”
I put up my hand. “I get it. We’ll put it in the maybe column.”
“Thank you.”
Names seem to elude us as we go back to eating our now-cold dinner. Doesn’t matter to me though, this burger is still amazing. And maybe with some protein in me I’ll be able to think of any name, because right now, my mind is drawing a blank.
“Lainey…”
I look over to Simon, a little confused.
“Lainey?”
“Yeah.” His voice is quiet as we both set our food down. “I think it should be something that means something to both of us.”
“I love that idea.”
“So I was thinking right now, what is something that’s meaningful for who we are? And every time I think of that, I remember the first time we met at Perks.”
I let that sit for a second when it hits me. “Perks on Lane Avenue.”
“Lane Avenue.”
“Lainey.” The happy tears are working their way up. “It’s perfect.”
“Really?”
I take his hands in mine. “Really. Lainey Banks.”
Now it’s his turn to cry. “Lainey Banks.”
I move across the couch as much as my pregnant self can to sit on his lap. It’s the best way for me to kiss him how I desperately want to right now.
“I love you, you know that, right?”
He pushes a piece of hair behind my ear. “Not nearly as much as I love you.”
His hand drifts to my stomach, and right on cue, Baby Bug kicks.
No…Lainey kicks.
“Hey, Lainey, it’s daddy,” he says, putting his face next to my stomach. “Your mommy and I can’t wait to meet you. But please hold off for a few more months, because I haven’t called my paint guy yet and I need to make your nursery the best nursery there’s ever been.”
I laugh, and cry a little, as Simon kisses my stomach. My hands brush through his hair as we just sit and bask in the moment. If this was six months ago, I’d be telling myself that the other shoe is about to drop. I’d be looking up for the rain clouds or for the anvil to come crashing down on my head.
But not anymore. Because right now at this moment, I don’t know how anything could ruin what we have.