Chapter 20
Julia
The howl isn’t as bad as I thought it might be. Once everything is out in the open and I have a few minutes of persimmon-peeling to calm down, I kind of stop worrying about it. I can’t change our circumstances, can I?
Meg, who’s the most pregnant person I’ve ever seen, is adorable, and Ian’s mom, Caroline, is trying her best to stay positive, though I can tell by the crease in her brow when she looks at me that she wishes things were a little different.
So do I, Caroline, I think, as we herd the kids away from the dessert table before they knock anything over.
“I hope your pups take after my boys,” she says, including me in her glance.
I share a grin with Meg. “What were they like as kids?”
“Utter sweethearts,” Caroline declares. “The most loving, best behaved pups you could wish for.”
A hand squeezes my shoulder. “That’s right,” Ian says behind me. “I was an angel.”
“Mam only thinks that because she was comparing us to them. Single pups are easy once you’ve battled a litter of five,” Conall chimes in as the two guys join our little group. He slings his arm around Meg’s waist and licks up the side of her neck until she giggles and pushes him off.
“Five?” I squeak, turning to stare at Ian. I didn’t know their litters could be that big.
“It’s not that common.”
“Common enough,” Caroline says wryly.
“Dr. MacDougal says four is average,” Meg chimes in, rubbing her belly through her cute, pale-blue maternity sweater.
With that new nugget of knowledge turning over in the back of my mind, I enjoy the rest of the howl, which is not too different from a human baby shower. There are games and toasts and gifts and music and yes, howling. Meg and Conall get teased and spoiled. It’s fun, if a little overwhelming.
Ian sticks by my side for the rest of the evening, maintaining physical contact the whole time.
Sometimes with his arm around my shoulders, sometimes a hand in the small of my back or a gentle grip on my knee when we’re sitting down.
Once, he strokes the back of my neck, raising goosebumps on my arms. Nothing inappropriate, but my body is hyperaware of him, reacting every time he shifts or murmurs a relative’s name in my ear.
Even on the way home, all I can think about is his proximity. It’s ovulation week, I guess. I’m still in my fertile window, so my body is begging for the nearest source of sperm. If Richard were home, I’d probably be feeling the same way toward him.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway, but it has me so rattled that I point out my house when we get to the end of the cul-de-sac instead of letting him drop me off at Heidi and Nic’s.
He’s grinning at me when he pulls into the driveway. “The flowers,” he says, nodding at the porch.
“Oh. You like them? I got them on Saturday.” I feel myself warm, like Saturday is code for the day we fucked at your kitchen table.
“I guessed this one was your house,” he says. Then, to answer the question that must have been on my face, he clarifies, “It’s the prettiest one. Thanks for trusting me with this, Julia.”
I nod, even though it wasn’t one-hundred-percent intentional. I trust him in my bones, even if that doesn’t make sense after knowing him for a little over two weeks. I guess it is instinctive trust rather than logical. The same instincts that are urging me to invite him inside.
Thankfully, my brain kicks in and overrides my body’s opinions. I cannot invite Ian into the house I share with my husband. “Thanks for the ride,” I force out.
“Thanks for coming to the howl. I think everyone really liked meeting you.”
“Almost everyone,” I joke, thinking of his brother with the dark-auburn fur who grilled me during dinner.
“Don’t mind Ben. It’s not personal. He’s just protective like that.”
“Well, I liked meeting them, too. They’re easy to be around.”
There’s a lull in our conversation, and I realize I should be getting out of the car. I gather my purse.
“Hey,” Ian says softly. “Call me when…” He trails off, but I know what he means. When I get a positive pregnancy test.
“If,” I remind him.
“When,” he shoots back, along with a cheeky, wolfy grin, his eyes dragging up and down my body as I climb out and shut the door.
Eight days later, I’m leaning on the sink in the employee restroom at Dog-Eared Pages, staring at two bright lines on the blue-and-white plastic pregnancy test that Nicole smuggled over to me after I sent her and Heidi an emergency text message that said, “I feel queasy ?.”
“Isn’t it kind of early?” Nic asks, sounding skeptical as she peers over my shoulder. “You guys didn’t bang that long ago.”
“It’s not like I slept with someone earlier in the month who could be the daddy.” Irritation prickles my scalp, sending another wave of nausea through me. Damn it. Pregnancy hormones already. I forgot how hard and fast they hit. It’s like perimenopause times a hundred.
“I just meant for the line to be that dark…do you think it’s multiples?”
“Unngh, I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it,” I moan, hunching forward in case the nausea crawling up my throat gets worse and I need to sacrifice my lunch to the toilet gods.
Nic rubs my back. “You want to go home? I can give you a ride if you’re feeling too gross to drive.”
I force myself to take a deep breath of the citrusy bathroom air freshener and straighten up. “Nah, I’m going to tough it out so I can save my sick time for when I really need it. I should get back out there before Rashleigh notices I’m gone.”
“Okay.” Nicole’s brows knit together. “Call us if you need anything. I mean it.”
My chin quivers, and my eyes fill up. “I need a hug before you go, I think.”
“Oh, honey.” Nicole wraps me up in a huge, gentle hug, and the scent of her ginger-lime shampoo fills my nose. I don’t know if it’s the hug or the unintentional aromatherapy, but my nausea eases a little bit.
“Thank you.” My voice is muffled against her shoulder.
She pulls back and fusses with my hair, smoothing it out. “You’re going to be okay once you have a minute to process. This is a really happy day. You have a great baby daddy, remember? He’s going to be so excited when you tell him.”
Right. I have to tell Ian. This is his news even more than it’s mine.
My heart trips and flounders as Nic and I say goodbye.
Once she’s gone, I shoot Ian a quick text message with a pic of the positive test and a note that I can’t talk now because I’m at work.
Then, after trashing the test and stowing my phone in my employee locker, I sneak back onto the floor and pretend like I’ve been unpacking the latest shipment of holiday books the whole time.
Only halfway through October, and people are already shopping for Christmas.
Cookbooks, children’s classics, and special editions are all flying off the shelves, and the publishers have answered the call with an array of glittering gift options.
All the sprayed edges and foiled covers make me feel like a dragon admiring a hoard of treasures.
I thoroughly enjoy unpacking them and setting up the displays.
I’m so entranced by the pretty books that I don’t even notice Ian until he’s standing two feet away from me, a periwinkle bag dangling from one hand that indicates he’s already made a purchase and has probably been in the store for a while.
I immediately blush, just like every time he’s close, my body reacting like he’s already touched me. I fumble for words. “Er! Hi! What are you doing here? I didn’t mean for you to come down. We could have talked later.”
He lifts the bag slightly. “I needed a book about human pregnancy.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he repeats, a twinkle in his eye, his voice dropping to a soft, low register that doesn’t carry outside the small circle of space that we both occupy, “And I wanted to see my mate. It’s a special day for us.”
“Oh,” I breathe, forcing myself not to turn into a puddle. Why does he have to be so adorable? It’s making it so hard not to crush on him.
“How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”
I give a small shake of my head. “I’m fine. Just a little queasy, that’s all.”
His brows draw together. “Should you be working? Do you want to lie down?”
I have to laugh at the level of concern. “I’m okay, really. It’s normal. There are going to be a lot of days like this, so I have to power through. Small price to pay for pups, right?”
“I don’t like that you’re the one paying the whole price,” he grumbles, but I can tell his mind is eased somewhat.
“So…when I got your text, I tried to make an appointment with Helena to confirm the pregnancy, but the clinic said the at-home tests were good enough, and we just need to schedule regular prenatals. They suggest a visit every seven to ten days since it’s an interspecies pregnancy, which can be more unpredictable.
I was wondering if you want to schedule them?
Or if you give me your work hours, I can schedule around them. ”
Clashleigh is circling like a shark in my peripheral vision, so it’s hard for me to concentrate on what he’s saying. “Can we talk about it later? I’ll call you after my shift is over.”
“Oh. Sure. Of course.” His tail droops. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“I’m glad you came,” I insist. It is a special day for us. I don’t know why I keep having this instinct to tamp down positive feelings and make it less than it is.
For some reason, I keep thinking I don’t deserve to be happy about being pregnant.
But just because I married Richard twenty-one years ago doesn’t mean my mate bond with Ian is any less real.
If this was my first baby, I’d be jumping for joy.
Taking the day off work. Letting Ian fuss over me and reading the pregnancy book together.
I meet his eyes. “Thank you for checking up on me. That was very sweet and thoughtful of you.”
His tail gives a tentative wag as we share a smile. “Until later.”
The second he leaves, Ashleigh pounces. “Is that a friend of yours? That’s the second time you’ve been fraternizing with him on the floor. You know it’s against policy to socialize with non-customers while you’re clocked in.”
It’s his fourth visit, actually, but who’s counting.
“He is a customer. He bought a book every time, and you got the sales commissions,” I point out. “But if you want, I can tell him not to come here to get books. I’m sure he can order them online or something.”
She frowns, and I can almost see the gears in her head turning. If she gets the pleasure of putting a report in my file, she also loses a paying customer. Oh, the conundrum. I have to bite back a laugh.
“Hm. Well, if it becomes an issue, I’ll have to write you up.”
“Got it.” I go back to setting up a table of illustrated hardback classics, and thankfully, she leaves me alone for the rest of my shift.
When I clock out and head for the parking lot, I find a bouquet of fall-colored flowers on the hood of my car. And when I get home, there’s a bag of groceries waiting on my porch: mint tea, ginger gummies, sour lollipops, crackers.
I guess Ian read the book.