19. Poppy
19
POPPY
Five thousand pieces of baby clothing later, and I finally feel like I’m ready to put everything away. Okay, maybe not actually five thousand, but it feels pretty close.
I have to cut the tags off everything, wash it, and put it away according to size. It isn’t easy, and by the time I’m finally halfway through the massive pile of stuff, I want to be able to drink again. Even if it’s only to forget the nightmare that comes with washing all those baby clothes.
For about the millionth time, I wonder why no one ever talks about the miserable side of pregnancy.
In fact, I pick up my phone and call Parker on video chat. Because if I’m miserable, I know she absolutely has to be.
“Can we just talk about this for a minute?” As soon as she picks up and I see the pizza she has hanging out of her mouth, I start in and flip the camera around. “All the baby clothes. Like, yes, pregnancy is magical and wonderful and I am beyond blessed to get to have a child. I get it. But why didn’t anyone warn me about the thousands of baby clothes I’d have to wash and put away so none of the chemicals would hurt my baby.”
Parker starts laughing almost immediately, and by the time I’m done with my mini rant, she is practically gasping for air.
“Oh. Oh, it hurts.” She laughs some more. “But it’s so true. So many clothes.”
“And the farting,” I go on. “So much farting, and I can’t even control it. I think I farted a dozen times when I bent over to grab the clothes that dropped off the side of the bed.”
“I love you, Poppy,” Remy interrupts our conversation loudly. “But I don’t want to hear about you farting. Women don’t fart.”
“Zip it, Townsend,” I growl when I see his smiling face appear behind Parker. “Or I’m going to tell your wife about how you take an hour in the bathroom when you’re doing your business.”
Parker chortles, her phone shaking as she tries to keep it still. “I already know. He’s miserable. I’m just glad we have as many bathrooms as we do.” She laughs again. “Are you done washing all the baby stuff for now?”
“Yes,” I say dramatically. “I just have to finish finding places to shove it all.”
Then I set my phone down and start putting away the clothes anywhere I can, while she stares at my ceiling.
“Why are you on the damn video part, if you’re not even looking at each other?” Remy walks away, his footsteps echoing through our connection.
“Because I can do whatever I want to,” Parker practically shouts. “I’m pregnant and because you cursed an almost dead man, now I’m having twins.” She whispers into the phone after that. “Sorry, I gotta make him think I’m upset so he’ll feel bad and rub my back for me later.”
When I finish stacking baby clothes in random places that will have to work until I figure out something better, I pick up my phone and smile. “It’s okay. Apparently, I’m breaking bed rest rules, even though if I didn’t do it, then nothing would get done.”
Parker snorts. “I’m with you on that. I love being pregnant. I love the babies that come as a result, but I also think that we should be allowed to be miserable too.”
“I love that you’re the miserable one with me,” I tell her. “Chloe loves being pregnant, and so does Emma. Kennedy, well, I’m sure she’s just as miserable as we are, but there’s no chance she’s gonna tell Linc that. He’d lose his mind trying to make it better for her.”
Parker nods. “Oh, definitely. Oop. I gotta go. Gotta pee before I wet myself.” She disconnects the call before I can say goodbye, but it doesn’t bother me.
Parker and I talk almost every day, especially since she is ready to pop and can’t go to work at Lucy’s anymore.
We are officially the bed rest crew. We even talk about getting t-shirts. But by the time they would be delivered, neither of us will be pregnant anymore and no one will understand the joke.
Alone, and surprised by the silence all around me, I rub my stomach lovingly. That is the other thing no one ever told me to expect. I can’t keep my hands off my stomach. Ever since the first time I felt him move, either me or Logan have a hand on my stomach at all times. I stand there, looking at the masterpiece that we’ve created for our baby, and smile at the memories I can see taking place.
Logan, putting together the crib and cursing, while I sat on the ground with a smile and a glass of peach tea in my hand.
My dad and Logan’s dad, butting heads while they put together the rocker they insisted I’d need for the baby.
My mom, making a quilt for the baby and laying it on the edge of the crib after Logan finished putting it together.
Sam and Evie, Finn and Emily, and even Bax, deciding that they had to make sure our little one had every single children’s book about aunts and uncles that had ever been written.
And then there was the mural of photos that Logan moved from the living room upstairs into the baby’s room. The wall that we’d adjusted, including all the people from Logan’s unit. The wives and their children, too. Even Danny, the man whose death brought Logan home… he lives on our wall, as well.
Our baby will never know a day without the love and comfort of knowing his entire extended family is watching over him.
The only thing our child will ever miss is his Aunt Lettie. But as I sit there, I promise her that he’ll know her. We’ll honor her, the same way I keep my promise from the night I almost died.
During the minutes I’m invested in my thoughts, focused on the promise and the memories, I don’t hear Logan come home. But I look up when he knocks lightly on the doorframe, and there he is with a smile on his face as he watches me with my feet outstretched and my hands over my stomach.
“Hi.” He sits down next to me, putting one hand on my stomach like I knew he would. “Looks like you were busy today.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. I got everything put away for the baby. And then I started thinking of all the happy memories he’s gonna have here, growing up, with all of us around him.”
Logan sighs, kissing me gently on the cheek. “You got stuck on the ground, didn’t you, and couldn’t figure out how to get up.”
I shake my head. “Not even close. I didn’t even realize I sat down. But now that you mention it, I could use a little bit of help getting up.”
Logan helps me up and leans forward so that our foreheads are touching. My belly is too big for him to get much closer than that.
“I wanna go to the cemetery again,” I tell him when we are out of the nursery and walking back downstairs.
Well, I’m shuffling as I try not to fall over. Logan is walking.
“Why?” He doesn’t sound accusatory or negative in the slightest, just curious.
I’m huffing and puffing by the time I make it to the bottom of the stairs and decide the best thing I can do is bend over and rest my arms on the wall so I can get the baby out of my lungs.
“Because,” I say while wheezing. “I want to. Is that so hard to believe?”
“No.” He shakes his head, smiling. “Okay. Do you want to put some clothes on first, or do you just wanna go like that?”
I look down, confused by what he is asking, and realize I’m only wearing a sports bra and a pair of leggings.
“Hey,” I say while shrugging. “I was uncomfortable, and the only thing that fits me are your shirts. I’ve made it this far. I don’t want to buy anything if I don’t have to.”
Logan walks back up the stairs without saying another word and is back in less than thirty seconds with one of the shirts he wears to work out in. Loose and comfy, it feels like he’s washed it a thousand times. Plus, it helps that it barely hugs my stomach and lets me breathe.
“Let’s go, toots.” He swats my ass and leads the way. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we get home and get you naked and underneath me.”
For a second, I pause in the doorway, weighing my options.
“Maybe it can wait.”
“Nope.” Logan pulls me by the hand. “We’re going to the cemetery. Then we’re gonna stop over at Remy and Parker’s house because he asked me to keep an eye on her while he’s working tonight. Then we’re gonna come home and I’m gonna get you naked.”
“That settles it.” I strip his shirt back off again, and it is most definitely not a pretty sight. “I can’t take the bra off by myself, though. And you gotta pull off my pants.”
Logan’s eyes flash, and then he is pulling his shirt over his head. Before he takes a step toward me, he is slipping out of his boots and pants, too. In fact, by the time he does make it to me, I’m too busy staring at his cock to notice that he has me in his arms until he is laying me down on the couch. My pants are gone in the next instant, practically ripped down my legs.
“Gotta make this quick,” Logan whispers against my lips before moving down my body. “Hook your legs over my shoulders, P.”
I do exactly what he says and arch off the couch when he immediately slides two fingers into my core. His thumb presses against my clit, until he licks from there to his fingers.
“You’re wet, Poppy. Are you ready for me?”
Yes.
But I’m not about to tell him that. Not when he is pushing me toward the best orgasm of my life. Each flick of his tongue and movement of his fingers propels me further, until I can’t control the way I tighten around his hand.
My fingers lock in his hair, pushing his face into my body, and I scream as my vision clouds over.
Logan doesn’t bother wasting time after that. He grabs my thigh tightly and stands up, his hard length pressed against my body.
“You’re gonna have to turn around, Poppy.”
He takes my hand and, like the gentleman he is, helps me get on my knees so that my stomach rests against the cushions. Then he proceeds to take me. Hard.
Like a growing storm, he is uncontrollable as he thrusts into my body. Our skin slaps against each other, and I feel his balls swing against my body with every single move.
“Harder,” I gasp against the back of the couch. “I need it harder.”
A fierce growl leaves Logan’s mouth and he twists, pressing deeper into my body than I think possible. But he doesn’t push harder.
If anything, he starts to move slower, gentler, and more passionately than he did just a few moments before.
“Touch yourself,” he orders briskly. “Touch yourself and make us both finish together, Poppy.”
Unable to deny him anything, I grab the back of the couch with one hand to balance myself and move the other between my legs.
Logan stops moving completely. His body, pressed against mine and buried inside me, makes what happens next even more erotic.
While I have my hand on my clit, Logan runs one hand down my spine, stopping on my ass, and then moves until his thumb sweeps over the only place on my body I haven’t given him.
Then without warning, he thrusts inside me again, pressing that finger in while he drags the second orgasm from my body.
“Nowww,” I cry out, and he lets go.
“I love you, Poppy,” Logan whispers against the back of my neck while he pulls out. “And when you’re ready to marry me, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I’m not expecting the sharp crack of his hand against my ass, but it feels almost good enough to make me not want to leave the house.
When I look over my shoulder with bared teeth, he just smiles.
“I’ll get you cleaned up, and then we gotta go.”