Chapter 23
N atalie
March
“Do you think we’ll be able to tell the gender today?” I ask hopefully, my stomach a bundle of nerves as I watch the nurse take my vitals. At twenty-six weeks, my little bundle of joy isn’t so little anymore, but he or she has been hiding the most important parts from us at the last two ultrasounds.
“Let’s hope. You said you thought baby had turned into a head-down position?” the nurse asks.
“Yeah. I was really uncomfortable last week, and different parts were being kicked,” I say with a giggle.
“Crossing my fingers for you, girl. Are you hoping for one or the other? And where’s your man?”
“He’s not my man. Just the baby daddy,” I murmur, bitterness seeping through my tone. In the last eight weeks, we’ve had great texts, and then barely any interaction at my two monthly appointments. He’s been stoic and closed-off, only asking if I need anything before leaving each appointment relatively quickly. He usually waits to walk me to my car, but rarely says anything before bidding me a good night and going to his own car. He didn’t sign up for a winter parent-teacher conference, and I only know he’s still alive because Ben mentions him occasionally, and then I get those wonderful texts. I thought we had gained ground after the night of flower building at his house, but our few in-person interactions have me confused. Then again, I’m hormonal and emotional, so it could completely be in my head.
“I’ll check the waiting room once more before I go grab the OB,” the nurse says. “You know the drill to get ready for the ultrasound.”
I had ultrasounds at twenty and twenty-three weeks. Usually women have one around twenty weeks, called a diagnostic ultrasound, where all the organs are measured to determine the likelihood of any abnormalities or possible genetic conditions. Everything checked out fine, but the OB mentioned her concern that I hadn’t gained any weight. Did I find it ridiculously ironic that a physician was telling me to gain weight? Absolutely. Since the baby appeared to be gaining fine, the doctor asked me to come back for another ultrasound today to confirm that trend continues.
Considering I barely make it home before I fall asleep, and a lot of foods still make me think I might puke, I’d say the little alien growing inside me is sucking the life right out of me, and I assume that’s just how life is going to be for the next eighteen years.
“Knock, knock! You decent, because I found something that belongs to you!” Oh, this nurse has jokes.
“Uh, I don’t belong to her,” Alex says hastily, as if that’s needed for clarification.
“She knows,” I snap. “She’s joking. She’s been my nurse every fucking ultrasound, Alex, and we barely speak. The whole office knows where you stand on this whole debacle.”
“Where exactly do you think I stand?” Alex asks quietly, holding a pair of gloves tightly in his hands. I hate that he comes to these appointments from work, and he looks delectable in his cop uniform. The man is too good looking, and it just generally pisses me off. And that’s probably why I word vomit all over him.
“Where do you stand? Well, you’d rather be anywhere than here. You regret ever sleeping with me, and certainly the second time when you did the whole dine-and-dash on me even after I asked you not to. I don’t even think you want this kid, so why the hell are you here? Put me out of my misery and take the fucking out I gave you months ago.”
Eyes wide as he stares at me, I watch the blood drain from his face, but he doesn’t have time to respond before there’s a knock at the door. Doctor Morales steps in, giving us a warm smile as she takes a seat beside the ultrasound machine. I chose to continue with her even after word got out in town about the pregnancy, because I could just see some town cronies stealing the OB file to post my personal details in a gossip article. Plus it’s nice to get out of Eternity every now and again. I love living there, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like I’m constantly being watched and judged. The Santo family are basically Eternity royalty, and I’ve already heard more than one resident chatting about how I ‘trapped’ Alex.
“I’m determined to succeed today, Mom and Dad,” Doctor Morales announces. “We’re getting those images today. I can feel it.”
As the gel is squirted onto my stomach, I cast a quick glance at Alex, and notice his crestfallen expression. Shit. My lack of filter was definitely lack of filtering today. Now I’m going to have to apologize to him, and while I don’t necessarily hate apologizing, it’s agony thinking about apologizing to him. I’m already so inferior to the entire Santo clan, and this just cements that.
“Do you both want to know the gender? Because I can tell you, or I can lock it away in my brain,” Doctor Morales says nonchalantly.
“What?” I ask as Alex says, “Seriously?”
“Your kiddo is holding onto its ankles right now, see? The between the legs shot is pretty obvious.”
I turn to Alex. “Do you want to know?”
“It’s your decision.”
“No, it’s something we should decide together,” I argue.
“After what you said before Doc walked in? No. This is all you. In fact, would you like me to leave? Since you’ve already made up your mind about me anyway.”
“Maybe I should leave,” Doctor Morales says hastily, but I grab the hand that’s holding the ultrasound wand on my abdomen.
“No. No one is leaving. Doctor Morales, tell us the gender. I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position. And Alex, I’m sorry for what I said. I’m emotional and hormonal, and I took it out on you. I apologize. ”
When he won’t make eye contact with me, I turn toward the doctor. I try to hide the tremble in my voice, but fail. “Boy or girl?”
She gives me a pitying look as her eyes flip between Alex and me. “You’re having a boy. Congratulations. Everything else looks good, Momma. I’ll see you in four weeks.”
A boy.
We’re having a boy.
As the doctor leaves the room, I let out a little laugh. “I’ve got a penis growing inside me, Alex. Alex?”
I turn to where he was, only to find the room empty.
I can’t help the tears that fill my eyes, but I don’t allow myself to cry. This is my fault, and I absolutely earned his reaction.
I have no one to blame but myself.
Two weeks later, after an awful week of school where a vicious stomach bug slowly and systematically ransacked the entire building, I’m not surprised when I wake up vomiting. After a frantic call to the OB, I was assured that as long as I don’t have any contractions, and continue to feel the baby move, I should be fine. Arianna dropped off a care package of Sprite, soda crackers, and every cleaning product under the sun, then texted me from the street to tell me she had been there. She wouldn’t even knock on the door for fear of germs, and after spending a good chunk of the day wrapped around the toilet, I can’t say that I blame her.
Around dinnertime, I’m ready to wave the white flag and convince someone to take me to the emergency room. I can’t keep even the smallest sips of water down, and I’m worried about dehydration. Little man is happily bouncing around, though, so I hold off on calling in the cavalry.
When someone knocks on my door, I don’t answer. They knock harder, and I muscle up all the energy I have to shout, “I’m sick, and I can’t come to the door!”
I watch as the door unlocks, and I’m ready to shout at the landlord for entering when I see that it’s Alex. “How did you — what are — what is go —”
“Excellent conversation, Sunflower. Please tell me you’ve moved from the bathroom floor at least once today,” Alex comments as he sets a bag down on the table before coming to me. Crouching next to me, he takes stock of my setup. “You’ve got your phone plugged in, a Kindle, your pillow and two drinks. Were you planning on sleeping here?”
I nod sullenly. “Why move when I’ll just end up back here in thirty minutes?”
“Did you speak to the OB?”
“Yeah. They said as long as he’s still moving a bunch, I shouldn’t worry.”
“He’s, uh,” Alex clears his throat, “I guess he’s moving a lot?”
“Yeah. He hasn’t stopped all day, so I’m taking that as a good sign.” I suddenly look up at him in horror. “You can’t be here! You’ll get sick!”
“I had it last week when Ben was sick. Kinda hoping there’s an immunity thing going on here.”
“I don’t think that’s how stomach bugs work.”
He shrugs. “Well, I’m the only one who is willing to come within six feet of you, so I’m your best shot at being nursed back to health.”
“Seriously how did you get in here?” I ask, noting Alex’s eyes still haven’t left my stomach.
“Arianna gave me a key,” he murmurs absentmindedly. “Can I?”
“Can you what?”
He gestures at my stomach. “Can I feel? I haven’t felt comfortable asking before, so …”
“You figure I’m more likely to say yes when I’m too sick to argue about it.”
“Kind of, yeah,” Alex chuckles. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed and I promise I’ll have everything set up perfectly for you.”
“I haven’t made it more than an hour without puking,” I complain. “It’s dumb to move from there when I’ll just be right back.”
“Sunflower, it’s not even ten feet from your bed.”
“Nine feet too many.” I groan when he slides both arms under me, lifting me with ease. I hate that he picks me up so easily, as if I’m light as a feather.
“Thought we talked about this self-deprecating bullshit, Natalie. You are not fat. Your body is phenomenal.”
“Did I say that out loud?” I wonder, my eyes wide as he gently deposits me on my bed. It’s definitely leaps and bounds more comfortable than the bathroom floor, but I’m not telling Alex that. I might purposely try to barf on him if he starts walking around like he’s God’s gift. My brain and my body don’t agree, and as I roll over, I let out a loud moan as I settle into the soft sheets and plush mattress.
“How long were you sick last week?” I ask as Alex rifles through his bag.
“About two days. Ben was over it within eighteen hours.”
“Was there any overlap?”
“No. I had about twelve hours between when he stopped puking and I started.”
“I guess that was nice of him,” I joke.
Alex chuckles. “My whole family got sick when I was around twelve. Arianna was just a toddler, and she was the only one who didn’t get it. Our poor parents were dealing with us hurling while they were trying not to do it beside us.”
“Oh, God,” I laugh. “Is that what parenthood really is? Just trying to keep kids safe and not puke on them? Sympathetic puking.”
“There’s a bit more to parenthood than that, but it’s basically the gist. I’m not the best when it comes to vomit, but I can usually clean up after kids when they’re sick. Abbie, for as smart as she is, can never gauge when she needs to make a run for it. She’s the reason why the hallway upstairs is hard flooring.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“It’s a good thing you can handle vomit, because I can’t. One of my students threw up all over her desk about a month ago, and I had to leave the room before I could pull the rest of the class out. I was so close to throwing up in a trash can.”
Sitting beside me, perched on the edge of my bed, Alex lays a hand on my stomach. “I can’t handle boogers.”
“What?” I ask incredulously.
He grimaces and then shivers. “Seriously. Ben went through this booger-eating phase in kindergarten, and I literally threw up more than once when I saw him do it. Don’t ask me to hold a tissue to a kid’s nose, and they better not use my sleeve as a wipe. Just the thought of them is making me feel queasy.”
“All kinds? Even when it’s super clear and runny? Or just the big globs that kids never blow correctly?”
“Stop,” he moans, “I can’t. I won’t even pick my own nose because everything in there just freaks me out. Sara used to tease me mercilessly.”
I ignore the twinge of pain that flashes across my body at her name. “As she should. You’re this big military man, and you’re scared of snot. I have to say, Alex, this is disappointing. I had you up on a pedestal, but this definitely brings you down quite a bit.”
He’s about to say something, but the baby kicks hard, and we both see Alex’s hand bounce. “Woah! That was him?”
“Yeah. He’s been doing that all day, and that’s how I know he’s okay.”
The baby kicks again, and the look on Alex’s face is spellbound. “That is so fucking cool.”
“I know. I think I’ll miss it. Having that connection with him like this. No one else will ever know how his heart beats from inside someone but me.”
Alex smiles peacefully. “I told the kids it’s a boy. I guess I should have asked you first, to see if you wanted to be there when I told them.”
“They’re your kids, Alex. I don’t have a say in what you choose to tell them.”
He shrugs. “I just think maybe I should have had you there. You’d have enjoyed their reactions. They’re both stoked. Well, Abbie is freaked about the baby peeing on her, because I told her little boys pee during diaper changes. ”
I gasp in horror. “Every time? Why? Are you sure that isn’t a medical condition? Do all babies do it, or just boys? Should we ask the OB? Oh, we need to start vetting pediatricians. Kate said she really likes the one your brother uses. Wait. You’re already a dad, so you already have a pediatrician. But do you really like him? We could change. I’d like to meet him though. Is that okay? Am I overstepping?”
“Sunflower,” Alex says, throwing his head back in laughter. “Relax. We’ve got time for all of this. Let’s worry about getting you through the night without any more puking.”
I feel my face flush in embarrassment. I’ve been holding onto all of these questions for weeks, afraid to ask Alex anything. Our text conversations have been lovely, but I’ve held back so much, fearing he’d close up again. It’s been nice just getting to know him. Right now, it’s the most unguarded he’s ever been, and my filterless ass decided to take my real vomit and turn it into word vomit. “Sorry. It’s been … odd with you, and I have all these thoughts and questions. But I didn’t want to aggravate you anymore.”
He exhales harshly. “That’s my fault. It’s been more of a struggle coming to terms with things than I thought it would.”
“You struggle with having another baby?” I whisper.
“No.” He pauses, looking up at the ceiling as he formulates a response. “I struggle with my feelings about you. I’m going to go grab the rest of your things from the bathroom. You should probably try to sleep.”
With my heart in my throat, I close my eyes. Biting the inside of my cheek hard, I resist the urge to pepper him with more questions. Feelings? Good or bad? What does this mean? Does he like me? As in like me , like me? Or is he struggling with an aversion to me that makes him want to file for sole custody? I force myself to take a few calming breaths as I try to rein in my crazy. He’s being super nice, coming to make sure I’m okay, and he’s probably just wanting us to be on the same page for co-parenting. I cannot blurt out that I need all the answers right now.
Daring to sneak a peek at Alex, I see him returning from the bathroom with my necessities. I had high hopes to at least read a book while sick, but my eyes kept crossing and I couldn’t remember how to increase the font size on my Kindle. Now I realize how foolish it was to take it into the bathroom with me, considering I also have the Kindle app on my phone. I’ve been too busy to read, and I’m three releases behind on what one of my favorite authors, J. Saman, just released. This is simply unacceptable, and I thought a good stomach bug was the perfect opportunity to catch up on some light reading. I didn’t take into consideration how hard it is to focus on a Kindle screen when I’m having an out-of-body experience like I’m taking part in that barf scene from The Exorcist .
I must fall asleep for a moment, and when I come to, I find Alex setting a lined trash can next to my bed. “In case of emergency, Sunflower.”
The next time I wake up, Alex is taking my temperature.
After that, I think he’s cleaning. Is he seriously cleaning my apartment? This man is unreal.
I manage to make it to the bathroom twice more to retch, thus helping me keep the little dignity I have left, and finally fall into a deep sleep.
When I wake up the following morning, I notice immediately how much better I feel. Stretching my arms above my head, I feel a boob pop out of the maternity nightgown I’m wearing, and giggle to myself, thinking how good it is that Alex isn’t here to see this. I know he probably snuck out at some point. He couldn’t stay when we had sex, so I doubt he’d stay after caring for me when I’m sick.
“Don’t cover up on my account,” a voice rasps from the floor, and I shriek. My eyes pop open to find Alex stretched out a few feet from my bed, using one of my couch pillows and a throw blanket for comfort. When his gaze meets mine, I’m taken aback by the intensity in them, and it pisses me off.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I snap. Covering my chest with my comforter, I glare at him.
“Like what?” he asks.
“Like you want to swallow me up. ”
“So?”
“I don’t want to play this game anymore, Alex. I’m sick of the mixed signals.”
“I know,” he sighs. Getting on his feet, he scratches at his scalp, and I resist the urge to unabashedly stare. His hair sticks up in every possible direction, but it doesn’t look chaotic. Everything on Alex looks tousled and sexy, no matter what he does. “You talked in your sleep.”
“What? No.”
“You did.”
“What embarrassing thing are you never going to let me live down?” I mumble, covering my face in shame. I talked in my sleep a ton as a child, but I hadn’t done it in quite some time. Rob certainly never mentioned it, so I assumed I’d gotten over it.
“You talked about how you worry you won’t be a good mom, and that you wish you could provide a better life for our son,” Alex says quietly. Grabbing his keys and wallet from the table, he walks to the door. “I think you’re going to be an amazing mom, Natalie.”
Alex turns to open the door, and I call out to him. “Thank you. For everything.”
He tips his chin down at me. “Of course. Oh, one other thing.”
“Hmm?”
“You told me I’m the best sex you ever had, and you wish you could call me up any time you need to get off.”
Fucking hell.
“Sunflower.”
“What?” I moan as I drag the comforter up to completely cover my face.
“You clearly don’t remember that I told you I’ll be waiting for your call.”
I hear the door open and close, but I remain encased in my bedding. Did that really just happen? Not wanting to miss an opportunity, I bellow, “You’re gonna have to earn that call, Mr. Santo!”
“I plan to!” he yells back.