Chapter 20 #3
“It’s like the Harris conversation. Let’s not ruin our time together with it. In time, I’ll talk more about it, but–”
“–not now,” they said together, his hold on her tightening.
“I still can’t believe this,” he said, turning to her, hands on her shoulders. “How easy it is with you.”
“And you. We can have conflict but we’re not at odds. We’re just talking it through.”
“So rare,” he murmured as he came in for a kiss.
Just then the seagull squawked, as if telling them to get a room.
A drop, then a second, landed on the back of her hand.
“Oh, no,” she said, looking up, as the seagull took off for the water. A gray cloud appeared, and soon–more drops.
“We’ll have to run for it,” Dennis said. “We’re only a few blocks away.”
“Dennis,” she gasped as they began to walk quickly back to her place. “I can’t even waddle fast. Run? Hah!”
“I’ll carry you.”
“You absolutely will not,” she insisted, waddling as fast as she could, taking him through a florist’s parking lot, then into an alley, all shortcuts she’d found over the years. Neither of them seemed too bothered by the downpour, which was fairly heavy when they reached her front door.
“Ah, well,” Dennis said in the foyer, running his hands through his hair. “You were right.”
“Rain is fickle here, this close to the shore. You just never know.”
“We’ll just have a lovely night in,” he said, giving her hip a love pat as they climbed the stairs.
Every bit of this date was perfect, even the conflict. Spending time with him was so natural. It seemed like he could fit into her life without a hiccup, and she hoped she could fit into his, too.
And then there was the baby.
But first things first. Like dinner.
“How can I help?” he asked as they walked in. Going straight for the dishes on the counter, he immediately started piling them in the empty sink, turning on the water.
“Um, you could put those in the dishwasher. I’ll get the salmon going. The risotto and salad are already done, so dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
“You’re a goddess.”
“Just wildly overprepared.”
Without being asked, Dennis wiped down the counters with a paper towel, then washed his hands.
“I’m going to ask the obvious question,” she said, pulling out a skillet. “Have you lived alone your entire adult life? I know you joined the Army at eighteen, but what about a significant other?”
“Not for more than a few weeks,” he answered simply. “No long-term relationships like that. You?”
“No. I never found someone I wanted to live with. Dated some people for under a year. No one ever really clicked.”
“Same. In my line of work, settling down was never easy. Most of my friends have been divorced at least once, most twice. Or they never married, like me.”
“How did we get to this age and never have a long-term relationship?”
“We were saving ourselves for each other.”
She snorted. “Or we’re impossible to live with and in for a rude awakening.”
“There is nothing you can throw my way that I can’t handle.”
She placed both her hands on her belly and said, “I noticed.”
All he did was shake his head, then ask, “Why don’t I heat up the risotto?”
“It’s in the glass dish in the fridge.”
Ana managed the salmon, the sizzle of the pink flesh when it hit the pan a sign she had timed it just right. Rubbed with fennel seed, rosemary, and orange zest, she hoped he liked it.
As the microwave hummed, Dennis asked, “Music?”
She nodded to a Bose speaker. “You can use my phone or yours to connect. What do you like to listen to?”
“Ever heard of Radio Paradise?”
She nearly dropped her spatula.
“Heard of it? I’ve been a member for years!”
“Me, too,” he said, turning it on using his phone. The soothing sounds of a low jazz number, infused with an African beat, filled the room. Dennis found the wall switch and turned on the dining table chandelier. “There we go. Ambiance.”
“Now I want a nice Chianti.” Unable to stop, she moved her hips to the beat as she cooked the salmon, smiling, heart full. Dennis came up behind her, the heat of his tall, broad body making her smile more. His hands went to her hips and he began swaying with her, nuzzling her neck.
She forgot what a good dancer he was.
“Smells good,” he said.
“It’s wild salmon.”
“I meant you.”
Ding!
The microwave forced Dennis to attend to the risotto, leaving Ana to smile stupidly at the fish. She covered the pan and glanced at the clock, intent on checking on it in three minutes.
Dennis was stirring the rice, judging it.
He put it back in the microwave for two more minutes.
“I really like this,” she announced to Dennis’s back as he worked on the rice. Once he’d pressed the right buttons, he turned around to face her.
“Risotto?”
“Being domestic with you.”
“Me, too.”
For the next ten minutes, they worked side by side, Dennis setting the table and filling water glasses, Ana finishing with the salmon. Soon, they were seated, working their way through a delicious dinner, and Dennis complimented her cooking.
“This is amazing.”
“Thank you. Do you cook?”
“I can. Limited repertoire, but one of my goals for retirement is to learn more dishes.”
“What’s your specialty?”
“Borani banjan.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s an Afghan dish. Someone taught me how to make it.”
“Someone.”
“Someone I can’t talk about.”
“Not a love interest?”
“No.”
“Ah. Gotcha. Interpreter?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s in this borani banjan?”
“Eggplant. Yogurt. Garlic. A bunch of vegetables like onions and chiles.”
“Sounds incredible. Will you make it for me sometime?”
“I absolutely will. And you’ll teach me how to make this risotto?”
“Deal.”
They finished fast, and given there was no buffet, Ana’s stomach would just have to be content with one course. There was always that huge bag of red foil hearts for dessert, though, and she had plenty of ice cream and cookies if Dennis wanted something more.
Or… if she did.
“Come here,” he said, reaching out his hand as he stood. A classic salsa song came on and–were his hips actually moving properly?
“Don’t tell me you can dance salsa!”
“I try.”
“Where on earth did you learn this?” she laughed as he took her masterfully through the salsa moves, keeping it low key given her huge belly.
And her two left feet.
“Shhhh. Government secret.”
“My taxpayer dollars were used wisely.”
The song was over too soon, their bodies moving just so as he bent down for a soulful kiss, one that said it was time.
Time to move on to the bedroom.
And time for her to break it to him as gently as possible.
“Dennis?”
“Mmm?”
“I have a confession.”
“Go for it.”
“The second trimester is called the horny trimester.”
“Oh, I like this confession! Is it? Really?”
“It is. And I went through it all alone.”
“Went? You mean, it’s gone?” Was he pouting?
“Twenty-seven weeks and beyond is the third trimester.”
“So I missed it. Damn.”
“You did. But that’s where the confession comes in.”
“I’m all ears.”
Her hand dropped between his legs, bold and free, knowing he would enjoy this. “I’m pretty sure you’re all something else.”
His groan of pleasure made it clear she’d made the right move. “I’m literally in your hands and at your mercy, Ana. Just tell me what you want.”
“I want sex, but… I have bad news.” She withdrew her hand.
He frowned. “How can the words ‘I want sex’ and ‘bad news’ be in the same sentence?”
“I’m not allowed.”
“Not allowed to have sex?”
“Right.”
“Says who?”
“My doctor. The obstetrician.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “Well. That’s… because of the baby?”
“Exactly. It might trigger early labor, or break my water. I’m close to thirty weeks. Everything changes now.”
His somber nod was one of acceptance. Then his eyebrow arched.
“Can you orgasm?”
“Am I capable? Yes. That horny second trimester burned through loads of batteries.”
“Ah, that’s not what I meant. Let me rephrase, although boy, that was a fascinating window into your libido…”
Her giggles were uncontrollable.
“Has the doctor restricted you from orgasming?”
“No.”
“Then we’re fine!”
“We are?”
“We can be creative. I just want to be close to you. I don’t need to be in you.”