Sweet Little Thing(18)

“I heard from someone that pregnant women can have a small glass of wine once in a while.”

“Who is this someone? That’s hogwash!” I blurted out.

Through disbelief and laughter Mia said, “What?”

“That is simply not true. There is no magic number for what is safe—it’s best to avoid alcohol all together.”

“What have you been up to, Will?” She eyed me speculatively.

“I’ve just been reading, that’s all.”

She got up slowly from the bed, still staring into my eyes. “You have that neurotic look about you right now.”

“I think we should start going for thirty-minute walks twice a day.”

“Are you worried about me getting fat?”

“God, no.” I shook my head. “Natural birth is like a sporting event, Mia. Think of me as your trainer.”

“Did you read that whole book?” She pointed to the nightstand.

“I read enough for now. I know exactly what I need to do. In addition to the breast tenderness and nausea, have you been experiencing frequent urination and sensitivity to smells?”

“Um…yes?”

“I need a definitive answer.” I was impressed by my ability to not crack a smile.

Mia continued eyeing me. I think she was waiting for me to break into laughter, but I didn’t. “Yes. The answer is yes, Dr. Neurotic, why do you ask?”

I tilted my head to the side and squinted, examining her from head to toe. “I believe you are most definitely pregnant. Our next step is to call your OB/GYN and schedule an appointment to confirm it with a blood test and transvaginal ultrasound.”

That’s when Mia lost it. She plopped back down on the bed, holding her stomach and laughing hysterically.

“Oh my God, Will, you are killing me with this act.” She could barely speak. “How do you know all that stuff?”

“This is no act. I’m a quick study. Martha inspired me to get involved, and that’s what I’m doing.” I smiled finally.

“I don’t want you going overboard,” she said as she walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth for the tenth time that day.

I always felt like Mia grounded me. If I spent too much time alone with my thoughts, I would let them get the best of me.

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

She looked into the mirror with a mouthful of toothpaste and nodded. She rinsed her mouth and turned to face me. “What time is it?”

“One o’clock.”

Wrapping her arms around my waist, she nuzzled her face into my bare chest. Her sneaky fingers found their way to my belt buckle. She pulled it open and then ran her hand down the front of my jeans and took a hold of me.

I took a step back and eyed her with my arms crossed in front of me. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“We can’t do it. You’re in a delicate state.”

“Your body disagrees with you.” She smirked and squeezed me tighter. “Plus, you cannot treat me like I’m breakable for nine months. I’ll go crazy.”

I pulled her hand away. “The answer is no, for now.”

“You won’t last long,” she said, challenging me.

“Watch me,” I said, but I knew she was right.

I turned, went into our closet, and grabbed my white T-shirt that said “Diva” on the front of it in black block letters. I pulled it over my head as I spoke to Mia. “I’m going down to the studio for a bit. Everyone has left for the day, so I wanted to work on a few things.”

“I’m gonna see if I can get into the doctor this afternoon since our parents will be here tomorrow. Do you want to come to the appointment if I can get in today?”

“Absolutely.” I turned and hugged her and then pulled back and looked her in the eye. “I’m really excited and happy, and I can’t wait to marry you and tell everyone about the baby.”

“Me too.”

I headed down to the empty studio and worked a little bit on Chad’s songs at the sound board, and then I went into the sound room with an old Fender Stratocaster that Martha’s husband had loaned me. It had this chime-y but rich sound to it when I played the neck. I plugged in, closed my eyes, and began to play the beginning of Led Zeppelin’s “Ramble On.” I tried to layer in both guitar parts as best I could by adding extra reverb, but the baseline was definitely missing. I kept my eyes closed and tried to imagine the baseline and pattering percussion in the beginning of the song, and then I actually heard it. I opened my eyes and saw Mia standing in the sound room, just feet away from me, tapping the beat on the back of a leather office chair. She was bobbing her head and smiling, encouraging me to continue. I wasn’t singing the lyrics, but as soon as the song started to build, Mia began twirling around. She was wearing a white sundress with long, billowing sleeves and knee-high brown boots. My little angel would have easily fit in dancing on the stage with the real band back in the seventies.

Mia could hear the music the same way I could. She had an imagination for it, and even though I was only playing the one-dimensional guitar part, I knew she could hear the full richness of the song. I watched her dance around, a picture of beauty, my soon-to-be wife, the mother of my unborn children. She closed her eyes as I built higher and higher and as soon as I hit the chorus, we both sang it at the top of our lungs.