11. Chapter Eleven ~ Chris
Chapter Eleven ~ Chris
I feel guilty that she’s so nervous. And that she’s obviously been that nervous for so long now.
The look on her face now is relief and perhaps some confusion as I hand over the box.
“What is it?”
“It’s a gift. Open it.”
She still seems uncertain even as she opens the box, staring down at the present inside. “It’s … wow … it’s beautiful.”
I’m not entirely certain, judging by the look on her face, but she stares down at it for a long time before she finally looks back at me. “I got you that because of your announcement. So don’t think for a moment that I’m not pleased.”
“Good. That’s … that’s good.” There’s definite relief there now.
“We need to make plans going forward. I’m assuming you’ve only just found out, which means that you’re not very far along. But I’ll set you up with Kate Ross. From what I’ve found she’s the best OB/GYN in the state and she’s located nearby.”
“You’ve already chosen an OB/GYN?” She seems startled by that news as well, though I’m not sure why. I’m always well-informed on the different tasks that I undertake. And this is no exception.
“Did you already have someone?” I ask. I want her to see the best. But if she already has someone that she feels comfortable with, I may have to work with her on this one.
“No. I … no, I don’t have anyone. I just … I’m surprised is all. That you’re already so on top of things. I had none of this planned before I told you.”
“I had this planned long before you told me,” I reply flippantly. “I did my research into the best person for the job. I’ll call her and set up the initial appointment. You’ll do the rest, of course, but I’ll ensure everything goes smoothly.”
“You mean to make sure she drops everything and agrees to take me on as a patient,” she replies with a small smile.
“Just in case there is any confusion,” is my response, though I smile as well. Yes, I certainly want to make sure that Dr. Ross agrees to take Emma. And with my backing, there shouldn’t be any problem with that.
The next day I notice that Emma is wearing the necklace I got her and something akin to pride flashes through me. It’s not that I’m unfamiliar with the feeling. But I’m certainly not used to the way that it presents itself this time, the feeling of warmth that washes through me as I think about her pleasure at the gift.
And thinking about her being pregnant certainly makes me a lot happier than I expected it to. I had thought that her getting pregnant would just be the end goal. But now, every time I look at her I think about what it’s going to be like to have a baby with her.
But now that she’s pregnant I’m also not sure what this means for our relationship. We never spelled out what would happen at this point. With the contract, the end goal was a pregnancy. And we’ve achieved that.
Does that mean everything else is done? The sex? Is it even safe for her, being pregnant? It must still be safe, right? Don’t pregnant women still have sex with their partners?
But then, does Emma want to have sex now? It’s not really required with the contract since she’s already pregnant, and the last thing I want is for her to be unhappy with our arrangement.
At the same time, I certainly don’t want her any less now than I ever did before. Which means going to bed alone with a raging hard-on far more often than I would like. Thinking about her and all the times I had her in my bed. The way she would cry out. The way her fingers felt against my bare skin. The way her body felt under my hands, my mouth.
I groan as I can feel my body responding yet again. But I won’t push her on this one. No, I need to just back off a little and decide what happens next. Which also means coming to terms with the fact that there’s a woman living in my home that I can’t have. Or rather, one that I want but I can’t have.
“Are you hungry?”
“Hmm?” I look up, startled at the sudden words and realize Emma is sitting in the chair not far from me, staring at me with a strange expression on her face.
“Are you hungry? I was going to order something in.”
“Whatever you’re getting is fine,” I reply, though I’m only half listening to what she says. A fact she seems to recognize because her eyes narrow slightly as she stares at me.
“All right; is there something wrong?”
“No,” I manage to get out, though there’s something about that searching look in her eye that says she’s not buying it. “I have to make a few phone calls. Let me know when the food gets here.”
With that I hurry out of the room and to my home office. But all I do is sink into the chair behind my desk and think harder about what’s happening here.
Am I really going to live with Emma from now on without taking her to my bed? What about after the baby is here? Is this the end of our sexual relationship? I really should have thought all this through before I drafted the contract, because now I’m wondering if this is a loophole that I never foresaw.
Emma seemed to enjoy our sexual relationship too though; certainly she kept coming back and the way she responded to me every time we were together …
As the days go by, however, it doesn’t ease my desire for her. Instead, it seems to make that desire even worse. Perhaps because it’s not actually getting any level of fulfillment.
We’ve fallen into a routine, however. We watch TV at night and I try desperately not to think about that body under whatever casual clothes she’s wearing. Because when I allow my mind to picture her naked, sprawled out on my bed, it only makes me crazy wanting her. And then I have to suffer through the rest of the evening and the night thinking about having her.
For her part, however, she seems to be doing just fine. Sitting there in the living room each night like nothing at all. Making it through her days at work just fine. Acting like everything is normal. And perhaps for her it is. Other than the being pregnant part, obviously.
“I went to my first appointment today,” she says one evening, staring at the book in her hands rather than at me.
“And?”
“Everything is fine. She says it’s too early to do much of anything other than a general checkup on me but she verified the pregnancy and she said that I seem to be in good health overall.”
“Good. That’s good.” I’m glad things are off to a good start. And hearing that the doctor has confirmed Emma is pregnant makes me feel even more relief.
“I don’t go back for a couple months. Then she’ll check things out again and we’ll be able to tell more about the baby.”
“You’ll let me know, right?”
“Of course, I’ll keep you posted on everything,” she agrees, still only shooting me a quick glance before she looks down again.
“Are you unhappy about the baby?” I ask and her gaze shoots up to me at that, eyes wide.
“No, of course not.”
“You seem … unhappy.”
“Oh. I’m not unhappy. I just … I’m trying to figure out how to tell a few people is all.”
“Who?”
“My mother and my sister.” She frowns at that and I wonder just what’s going on in her relationship with her family. Why doesn’t she want to tell them she’s pregnant? Or is it me that she doesn’t want to tell them about? Then again, our relationship is definitely complicated. I’m still working out how exactly I’m going to tell my family about all of this.
“Don’t you have anyone that you’ve talked to about being pregnant?”
“I haven’t been pregnant that long,” she replies. It certainly feels like it’s been a long time to me. But maybe that’s just because I’m wishing desperately that I could take her back to my bed and have my way with her.
“Still. You need someone, don’t you?”
“For now, I think it’s better this way.”
She wanted to keep everything between us a secret from the start so why should I be surprised that she wants to keep the baby a secret for now as well? Still, I wish she had someone that she could talk to. Someone that wasn’t me. She needs that.
“Are you close to your family?”
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation there. Just a quick and firm answer and I wonder about it. Wonder how she could be so close to people and not tell them at least something about what’s going on here. Especially knowing where it’s going to go.
She knew she was going to get pregnant and have my baby. So why didn’t she start things out by telling them she was in a relationship with me?
But then, what do I know about the relationship she has with her family? And really, I don’t know that she hasn’t told them about me. I’m fairly certain she goes to see them frequently. She’s gone in the mornings a lot and I tend to see her mostly in the evenings or late at night, after the club closes and we both need a little wind-down time before bed.
“Will they be around a lot once the baby is here?”
“I’m sure they’ll want to be,” she replies, but her tone is guarded. Like she’s trying to hide something. What is it about her family that she’s being so secretive about?
“You don’t want them to be?”
“That’s not it.” But she doesn’t volunteer any additional information and the way she’s sitting, with her shoulders hunched up, says that she’s not interested in talking about it anymore.
“Do you like Dr. Ross?” I ask instead and she gives a nod.
“She’s good. And she answers all my questions.”
“Good. That’s what you need.”