Feels Like Summertime(23)
“Yes, it was the end of it. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Why aren’t you working?”
“I drank myself into a stupor, taking vacation so I could do it up right, and then I went back to work. But I didn’t quit drinking. When I was off duty, I would drink, and then I would drag my ass to work the next day.”
“You got into a fight with Fred at work.”
He nods. “I broke the bastard’s nose.”
“Good.” I feel a certain sense of satisfaction that he did that.
He shakes his head. “Not good. I hit him because he put a picture of the baby on his desk. That’s all he did. He put a picture of his kid on his desk.” He sighs. “So my drinking, my dragging ass, the fight, and the mistakes I was making led to me being put on administrative leave. My superior told me that I needed to get my shit together. Then Pop called and he needed me to come home. And then when I got here, you were here.” He holds his hands out. “And here we are. You and me. Sitting on my bed.”
“Just like old times.” I lay my hands on my belly. “Well, almost.” I laugh.
Jake chuckles. “If it was like old times, I’d be trying to get in your pants.”
I fake a gasp. “You mean you’re not trying to get in my pants?”
He leans over and kisses my forehead. Then he says quietly, “If I was trying to get in your pants, you would definitely know it.”
Butterflies take flight in my belly. “I wish things were different.”
“I don’t,” he says. “I like them just fine the way they are.” He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I’m feeling really fat and really pregnant and really needy, Jake, so I’m going to get out of here before I start to cry, okay?”
“Wait,” he says as I stand up. He grabs my hand. “You owe me some secrets.”
My belly jumps as the baby lands a solid kick. “I would love to tell you some secrets, Jake. I’d love to tell you all of them, but right now, I really have to pee.”
He laughs and spins me around. Then he pops me gently on the bottom. “Go pee. We’ll talk when you’re done.”
I go to the bathroom down the hallway, and Jake is waiting for me when I come out. “I think I’m going to go home, Jake. My back is killing me.”
His brow furrows. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Unless you have a masseuse in your pocket, I doubt it.” I arch my back, trying to relieve some of the strain.
He wiggles his fingers. “I just happen to have magical hands.” He tilts his head to the side like a playful puppy. “You talk. I’ll rub.”
“Really?” No one has taken care of me in a really long time. Just the idea of a massage from Jake has my insides trembling and my heart melting all at once. “You want to give me a back rub?”
“I’d give you just about anything you asked for, Katie,” he says softly. “You should know that by now.”
He holds out his hand for mine, and I lay my palm against his. He gives it a tug, and I walk slowly toward him. His eyes are hot and strong and so full of caring that my eyes well up with gratitude. I need for someone to take care of me even if it’s only for a few minutes.
Take care of me, Jake. Please take care of me. Just for a little bit.
“Where do you want me?” I ask.
22
Jake
The words “I want you on top of me” come unbidden to my mind. Instead, I point to the bed. “On your side, here?” I wait for her reply. She sits down on the edge of the bed and rolls, lifting her feet. She lies flat on her back, her big basketball of a stomach lifting up high and round. I laugh at her. I can’t help it.
“Are you laughing at my belly?” she asks, but she’s smiling too. It’s a tired, needy kind of smile, but still a smile.
“I love your belly,” I admit. I’m fascinated by it. I want to touch it and look at it, and… I kind of wish it was mine.
She lifts a brow at me. “You love my belly.” Her curiosity turns into a glare. “Be serious, Jake. I’m like a beached whale.”
I sit down next to her and reach down to touch her belly, but at the last minute I stop because I should probably ask for permission. I can’t just fondle her belly. “You’re getting an outie,” I tell her as I stick the tip of my finger against her belly button. She laughs and grabs my hand. I hold hers tightly. “Your belly button is like one of those plastic timers that come with a turkey.” I wriggle my hand free and poke her again. “Yours has popped.”
She rests the back of her head in the palm of her hand, her elbow pointed to the side, toward my nightstand. “You really know how to sweet-talk a girl, Jake,” she replies. “I’m all giddy with butterflies and shit, because you’re that smooth. Your milkshake must bring all the girls to your yard.” She lays a hand over her outie.
Sudden stillness falls over me. “I loved it when Laura was pregnant,” I admit. “I watched her belly every day, feeling to see if it was bigger, making her lie there for me so I could talk to her belly, no matter how big or how small. I kind of miss it.”
Katie lifts her other hand to rest behind her head, and now has both elbows pointed out. “You loved your wife.” Her voice is soft and low, almost like I’m a feral animal she’s trying to catch.