Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Ana
Nineteen days later (but who’s counting…)
Be there in fifteen, his text said, popping up just as she put the shrimp rolls in the oven. Dennis had worked an early day with his father, leaving for Newburyport a bit later than expected, but his dinner-time arrival was perfect.
Because it felt so cozy to cook him a dinner.
Like he was coming home to her.
Two weeks of travel with her mother had left her exhausted, exhilarated, happy–and frustrated.
Being conflicted the entire time, wishing she could see Dennis, made her feel like a bad daughter. Ana knew better–feelings were feelings. You couldn’t control them, only your reactions to them.
Tomorrow she crossed the twenty-nine week mark, and today’s doctor appointment had been filled with joy and disappointment.
Joy because Little Bean was growing just fine. A little small, which was to be expected given her uterine problems, but everything looked good. He would survive if she gave birth now. Every day he cooked a little longer inside her safe womb was a day that mattered.
His entrance into the world was going to be fraught with concern, but it was actually happening. Ana was going to be a mother.
The vacation with Marian had involved countless conversations about her hopes and fears, though her mother preferred to focus on the pragmatic.
Including treating her to an entirely new wardrobe, some maternity and some for postpartum wear. As Little Bean grew, of course, so did Ana, and the summer dress she’d worn in Maine made her feel huge.
Everything made her feel huge.
That was reality, because she was huge.
For the next forty-eight hours, her life would be about nothing but Dennis. Having him overnight meant truly getting to know each other, though she felt like this relationship was happening backwards.
She wasn’t nervous about spending time with him. How to fill the hours wasn’t a worry.
There were, however, plenty of parts of her life he knew nothing about.
Like her home.
A simple condo, she was two houses away from the water. Harris had asked a million questions about how a part-time therapist could live there, but she’d lied to him.
Put on the spot, she’d claimed to be a renter. In retrospect, that was a huge red flag. Ana made it a practice not to lie, especially about something so personal.
With Dennis, she’d be transparent, which meant being open about money.
Her building was an old one, just off the historic market square, divided into four condos.
Right out of college, she’d fallen in love with the place, knowing she wanted to stay close to Brie and her family, and to her mom.
Rick had helped her navigate the process of buying, and she’d been lucky.
A recession that hurt sellers had worked to her benefit.
The timing was serendipitous.
Now, it was paid off, a two-bedroom condo with a small den, big enough for her and her son.
And maybe–just maybe–a life partner.
For the last two and a half weeks she’d thought about nothing but the baby and Dennis, thinking through so many contingencies. If this worked, would he expect her to relocate to Luview? Would he be willing to move to Newburyport? Could they have both places?
Was she jumping the gun even thinking so long term?
His absence made her need to run these scenarios through her mind, as her back ached more and her legs needed more stretching, calves begging for massages she could do but that weren’t nearly as good as the ones he’d given.
So many questions.
So much potential.
Transitions were hard to navigate in life. Ana had the end of a relationship, a surprise pregnancy–a medically complicated one, at that–and now, Dennis.
The biggest complication of all, in some ways.
And yet, the easiest.
Bzzz
Startled, she looked at her phone.
Here, his text read.
She pushed the button to unlock the main door, and the sound of his steady footsteps as he came up to the second floor made butterflies launch in her stomach.
Instead of making him knock, she opened the door as he reached the top of the landing.
Carrying what looked like a five-pound bag of red foil hearts.
And wearing a smile that made her want to jump in his arms and kiss him until his smile transferred onto her face.
Instead, she took the bag of chocolate and said, “This baby will come out of me as a six-pound infant-shaped chocolate.”
“Sounds like a great episode of Black Mirror.”
“Come on in,” she said, noting his small backpack. The man traveled light, but then again, it was mid-June. He wore a cotton crewneck sweater, jeans, and black hiking boots, and he looked fine.
“You can put your bag in the–”
Before she could finish the sentence, he cut her off with a kiss, his warmth so alluring. The embrace was a bit trickier than the last time he held her in his arms, though.
Because she was bigger.
But his mouth, oh, that mouth was the same as–no, better than–before. He tasted like coffee and smiles, plans and promises. As she breathed him in, their kiss deepened, until the oven timer interrupted.
“Oh! The shrimp rolls!” Peeling herself out of his arms, she hurried to grab an oven mitt and prevent a burned appetizer. He followed her in.
“Make yourself at home,” she said as she pulled out the tray. “I’ll give you the tour in a moment, or just walk around and see for yourself.”
“Old building.”
“It is, built in 1887. Four condos in here. Each floor has one like mine, two bedrooms and a den, and another that’s a smaller one bedroom.”
“This is big.”
“I’m glad I got a bigger place than I needed when I bought it.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“About thirteen years.”
“Since college?”
“Just after undergrad.”
He looked around. Ana kept her place neat and clean, more of a minimalist than most of her friends. It wasn’t that clutter bothered her, more that it wasn’t necessary. She preferred to have her attention drawn to pleasing sights, and that’s how she arranged her home.
“Lots of sun. And you’re really close to downtown and the harbor.”
“That’s why I love this place so much. We can walk down to the water later.”
“I’d like that. What are you making? Smells amazing.”
“Shrimp rolls! From a box. Just to start. Dinner is salmon and risotto, with a salad. I hope you like salmon?”
“I am the least picky eater you’ll ever meet. If you cook it, I’m sure I’ll love it.” He sat down on her red couch, sinking in, patting the seat next to him. “Unless you need help cooking, come sit with me for a minute.”
“A minute?”
“I promise I won’t let you burn anything.”
“I haven’t started the actual cooking yet. Everything’s prepped, though.”
“Even better. Come here,” he said, holding his hand out for hers.
She eyed her own sofa.
“I sit over there now,” she explained, pointing to a wide single chair, upholstered in a taupe shade that worked well with the red sofa.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t get up off the couch easily anymore,” she confessed.
That made him laugh and stand up, reaching down to cradle her face in his hands before kissing her. Breaking the kiss, he said, “I’m here now. I’ll help you up.”
“Okay, then,” she smiled, and they sat.
Maybe it was hormones. Maybe it was the two-and-a-half-week separation. Maybe it was the surreal sense that this relationship was real. Whatever it was, tears filled her eyes.
“I’ve been alone for so long,” she said.
“Me, too.”
“It’s silly, though, because we’re not! Not alone–I have Brie and her family, and my mom and Rick. You have your wonderful extended family. You even live right there at your camp with them! And yet…”
“We’ve both been lonely.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Ana, when I’m with you, all that loneliness fades. There’s a heaviness in me that I carry around but I don’t feel it until it’s gone. Until we met in January, I didn’t know it could lift. You lift it from me.”
“And you lift mine. We don’t trade the heaviness, so where does it go?”
He kissed her again. “Maybe we kiss it away.”
“Sounds like a lot of kissing is ahead of us.”
“Better get started now.”
“I thought we already started.”
“Are you going to argue, or kiss?”
“I suspect we can do both, but I like kissing way more.”
Sitting close, leaning towards each other, she took in the heavenly scent of her just-cooked appetizer, his aftershave, the cotton sweater that draped so nicely against his body. As the kiss went on and on, she felt it.
A lightness.
A release.
An acceptance.
All of this was real, of course. Time, though–the more time she spent in his arms, the more she soaked him in, absorbing his truth–that would create their shared timeline.
Her stomach growled.
Loudly.
“I think you have an agenda,” Dennis said, stroking her cheek.
“My appetite has turned into a second libido.”
His eyes flashed. “I don’t know what that means, but I like it.”
“Let’s eat. Do you want something to drink? I could make you a caipirinha. Or I bought some beer.”
“I’m not going to drink if you can’t. That’s not fair.”
“It’s fine! Doesn’t bother me a bit.”
“Are you trying to liquor me up so you can take advantage of me?”
Ana shot him a look. “I’m a therapist. I don’t even think that way.”
“Bad joke. Sorry.”
“No apologies needed. But I do need a hand.” Holding hers out, she made it clear Dennis was a human tugboat for her.
“Physics and pregnancy are a hilarious combination,” he said, laughing and pulling her to her feet.
“Only hilarious when you’re not the one stuck on your own sofa.”
“I’ll be your Couch 911 guy.”
“You live too far away for that.”
“I need to be closer, then.”
“Two hours, right?”
“Drive wasn’t that bad. Especially this time of year.”
“I’d hate to make that trip in January.”
“I have chains for my tires. No problem.”
She walked into the kitchen and found a spatula, transferring the rolls onto a platter. From the fridge, she pulled out her favorite dipping sauce, a roasted cauliflower hummus she’d made earlier.
“Glasses?” he asked, pointing to the cupboards.
“On the left.”