SEVENTEEN
EMMA
A week after a delicious dinner at a fantastic Italian restaurant and indeed the best dessert in the world, I’m in the middle of my shift at the hospital. It’s my second week on the maternity ward, and I’m relieved I got a transfer. We agreed on a schedule that only includes day and eight-hour shifts. No more working twelve hours or nights. That means I work five days a week instead of three or four, but at least for the duration of the pregnancy, I don’t care.
As a little bonus, I see a lot more of Rob as well. I don’t want to call it a huge bonus—it does have its downsides, mostly because I’m still reluctant to tell him about Jack. I have no clue where we stand, and having to explain another complicated situation isn’t on top of my list.
But again, Rob sensed that something was up. So today, I offered to grab us some lunch and meet at our favorite spot on the hospital’s roof terrace at noon.
When I step out of the used hospital air into the fresh spring air of May, I inhale deeply and turn my head toward the unclouded sun. With closed eyes, I enjoy the warmth on my face and release a happy sigh, but the moment is over when a male voice tears me out of my peace.
“Stop blocking the doorway, you whale.”
I turn around with a gasp and punch a laughing Rob in the chest, not playfully this time. “What the fuck?” I gape at him while he still laughs but rubs the spot where I hopefully hurt him.
“Hey, sorry, sorry!” He holds up his free hand. “But you’re always talking about how you’ve already gotten so big, which is bullshit.” He shoots me a challenging stare, as if to dare me to contradict him, but I wave him off.
“Yeah, whatever. Come on. I’m starving.”
He chuckles as he follows me to the chairs, where we sit down to unwrap our sandwiches.
After a moment of silently enjoying our food, Rob turns to me. “Sixteen weeks already, huh?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Are you gonna give me your weekly pregnancy pep talk? Don’t get me wrong,” I add when he narrows his eyes at me, “I prefer yours over my mom’s about my poor life choices any day. So go ahead.” I gesture for him to continue.
He chuckles. “You’re almost halfway through. Have you felt the baby move yet?”
I shrug, and automatically, my hand wanders to my belly. “I don’t think so. I know that they say it feels like a tiny flutter or muscles twitching and all that. So I guess if I’m not sure, that means no.”
“It probably won’t be much longer until you do because the baby’s already the size of an avocado,” Rob explains.
“Stop giving me food analogies. I don’t want to know that my baby is the size of an avocado when I eat one.” Glaring at him, I point to my sandwich.
Rob suppresses a laugh and snorts. “I’m sorry. No more food references, I promise. How are you? ”
I let out a long breath of air. I’m feeling pretty good, but one thing is bugging me. “Good, I guess,” I respond. “It’s just …”
“What?”
“Ugh, this is embarrassing,” I say with a groan, and Rob cackles.
“Embarrassing? Come on, you can tell me.”
I grimace. Even though no one is outside with us at the moment, I lean closer to whisper, “I’m so horny, like, all the time. Is that normal?”
Rob leans back, blinking at me, but a subtle smile appears on his face, and he chuckles. “Yeah, that happens quite a lot. Especially in the second trimester, which you are in.”
Again, I glare at him because I don’t know why he’s still chuckling. “Rob, I’m serious. This is no laughing matter. I’m desperate.”
“Oh, Em. I’m sorry.” At least his face takes on a more severe expression now. “What’s probably even worse, sex during that time is usually amazing due to increased blood flow to your … you know.” He points to my nether regions.
Dammit, that does make it worse. Knowing I’m missing out makes this even more despairing. I sigh, which sounds more like a whimpering sound, and stare at my friend.
“Emma!” Rob laughs. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m not gonna fuck you.”
I rest my chin on my hand and keep staring at him. “That’s too bad. But I figured that you’re not the friends-with-benefits-kind of guy.” I laugh and shove his shoulder when he rolls his eyes at me. “But can we change the subject? This is frustrating. ”
And also, talking about sex brings me back to why I wanted to talk to Rob in the first place. I take a deep breath before I say, “I need to tell you something.”
Rob chuckles, giving me an amused smile. “Finally. I knew something was up. Spill!”
I don’t even pretend to be surprised. “Yeah, well … I met someone.”
Rob just nods and gestures for me to go on.
“His name is Jack,” I say, waiting for him to realize who I’m talking about. They’ve already met, after all.
Rob furrows his brows and taps his chin with his finger. He sits up straight, and his eyes widen. “Is that the engineer guy that got the electric shock?”
“That’s him. We have a mutual friend, so we ran into each other repeatedly. And we sort of became friends.”
“Sort of?”
When he squints at me, I shift in my seat. I’m not sure why talking to my best friend about Jack is so hard. “Yeah. Well, we agreed to be friends and nothing more for now.”
Rob nods. “But you want more?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Yes.”
“Hmm,” is all he says. He takes another bite from his sandwich, taking his time to chew and swallow. “Does he know you’re pregnant?”
“Yes. I told him, and he offered me his support. He introduced me to his sister, Liv, whom I’ve also met a couple of times. She’s pregnant with her second child.”
“That’s nice of him,” he says with sincerity in his voice. “And don’t look at me like that. I mean it.”
He’s right. I am surprised he just said that. “What do I do now? There’s this guy I like who offers me friendship but nothing more, but every time I see him, all I want is to rip our clothes off and have him bend me over the nearest table.”
Rob bursts out laughing. “Oh, Em, you’re hopeless.”
As our conversation continues, I tell him more about Jack and my feelings for him and how he even cheered me up after the last talk with my mom.
And hopeless is how I feel indeed.
A few days later, I stand in front of my wardrobe, deciding what to wear tonight. It’s Friday, and as I don’t have to work, Jack convinced me to come to O’Reilly’s to watch them play. When I check the time, I groan. Again, I won’t be ready when he comes to pick me up. He’ll be here any minute now.
With another frustrated groan, I grab the maternity pants I bought this week while shopping with Liv. All my regular pants are getting too tight around my belly. Once I pull up the pants and stretch the tank top over my stomach, my doorbell rings. Yeah, great. I’ll have to tell Jack that he has to wait for me again. At least he should be used to it by now.
Without even thinking about putting on the blouse I was going to wear over the tank top, I let Jack in and greet him with a smile. “Hey, Jack. Come in. I’m so sorry. I’m not ready yet.” Without waiting for him, I walk into the kitchen to get him his usual glass of water .
It takes a moment or two to realize that he hasn’t said a single word yet. I turn to look at him, and there he is, standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. Because he looks so freaking handsome in those nicely fitting pants and the tight black T-shirt that just as nicely shows off his toned upper body, I almost miss his weird expression. I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you all right?” I ask as I grab his water, walk over, and hold it out to him.
Still no words leave his mouth when he accepts the glass without breaking eye contact.
“Jack?” I try again.
Finally, he clears his throat and pushes himself off the doorjamb. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Hey, Peach.”
When he calls me that and gives me a sweet smile on top of it, a delicate shiver runs down my spine, and a pleasant tingling starts in the pit of my stomach, gradually spreading through my entire body. Fuck, this guy will be the death of me. The longing to touch him gets worse every time I see him.
I hope my smile doesn’t give away my inner turmoil. “Again, I’m sorry for making you wait.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he takes a sip of the water before walking past me to place the glass on the kitchen table.
The suddenly awkward tension between us makes me frown. “Jack, are you sure you’re okay? You seem weird.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just … that’s a really revealing top you’re wearing. ”
I look down at myself and hold back a gasp. He’s right. Not only is this tank top tight, but it also shows off my cleavage. And I have no idea why my hands suddenly grab my breasts. Am I trying to hide anything? Or am I just plain stupid? Because that move makes Jack groan. A groan that comes from deep within his throat, and a groan that I can feel in every cell of my body.
“Fuck, Emma! Are you trying to kill me?”
Now I can’t help but laugh. Out loud. Really loud. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I turn away from him, and this time, I cover my face with my hands. And once I get a grip on myself, I turn back to him.
Jack still stands there, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with narrow eyes. “Are you done?”
If it weren’t for a hint of a smirk on his face, I’d think he was mad at me. I bite my lips and nod. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I had that effect on you.”
Jack snorts. “How does that surprise you? I’m a guy, and those are some very nice boobs.”
I furrow my brows. “Are they?” I glance at my breasts and cup them with my hands again, squeezing them a little. And I have to try hard to stifle the loud laugh that wants to escape my mouth when Jack groans.
“Oh my goodness!” He grunts and turns around. “I’m outta here.” And he indeed walks toward the door.
I run after him and grab his arm. “Jack, wait! Don’t go. I’m sorry. I will stop now.”
Jack turns to me, and his expression tells me he didn’t actually intend to leave. His subtle smile turns into a smirk .
“For the last time, I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought I could mess with you. Because I thought you were my friend, and that’s what friends do.”
Only now do I realize I’m still holding on to his arm. Jack’s gaze falls to where my hand slowly strokes over his bare forearm, down to his hand that he lifts to entwine our fingers.
“I am your friend,” he says in a barely audible whisper as he looks into my eyes.
Out of nowhere, a whole new tension fills the air between us. Again, I’m feeling things that become harder and harder to bear, and it’s never been more challenging than right now, with him giving me a look of pure desire, a look that should match mine.
The abrupt mood change from playfully teasing to lasciviously staring makes me dizzy. I take in a slow breath before asking, “Can you be more?”
I hate the frown on his forehead when he answers, “I don’t know.”
“That sucks.”
“It does.”
And just when I think that’s it, he’ll let go and step back, he does the opposite. He leans in, closer and closer, until his warm breath hits my lips.
My heart is about to explode in my chest, frantically trying to get some much-needed oxygen to my dysfunctioning brain because I stopped breathing altogether. My eyes close, and my other senses kick in. His spicy scent that fills my nose, and a soft sigh escapes his lips just before he presses them onto mine. His one hand still holds mine, squeezing it harder now, and his other cups my face. I shiver as he brushes his fingertips over my cheek .
And before I know it, he deepens the kiss. As soon as his tongue finds mine, they melt together, just like my body melts into his.
I fist his shirt, pulling him closer. When our bodies touch in every probable place, it feels like we’re wrapped up in our own little bubble. All that matters now is him and me, his lips on mine, kissing me like no man before him.
Just when I think I could go on kissing him like this forever, he pulls back. All the way, breaking any body contact we had. His chest heaves with deep, slow breaths, and his face is twisted with unease and desperation.
And before we can say anything, the doorbell completely bursts that little bubble we were in.