The Randy Romance Novelist(92)
“No,” I deadpan. “That is horrific. That’s not sexy at all. You don’t talk about balls slapping, things being moist, or vaginas being flappy, or the pungent raw smell of a pounded-out vagina.”
Henry shivered. “I can’t see why not. Pounded-out vagina is always on the top of my list for topics of conversation.”
“You’re gross today and extremely irritating. I suggest you step away from me before I rip this baby out of my uterus and make her slap you.”
“Don’t you turn our baby girl on us. She needs to make her own decisions on how gross her daddy is.”
“Lucky her,” I said sarcastically, knowing I was having a big bitch moment.
I couldn’t help them anymore. When we became engaged, I kept my hormones in check, really trying to make sure I didn’t say or do anything that would make Henry change his mind, but after an onslaught of gross pregnant things that happened to me, he stuck around; therefore, I let the bitch out in this last month of pure hell.
Ever see an ankle swell to the size of a cantaloupe? I have, they are attached to the toothpicks I used to call feet.
Peeing your pants? Yup, controlling your bladder when pregnant is next to impossible.
Ill-fitting clothes. Nothing, no matter how hard you try, fits properly.
Emotional breakdowns over moving to the suburbs with a cat . . . had those.
I don’t even want to talk about constipation, prune juice, and hemorrhoids. I wouldn’t wish such a thing upon my worst enemies.
“Delaney and Derk should be here soon, love. Want me to get the snacks ready?”
“Maybe you should put a shirt on. I didn’t know you were Mike Thurston these days.”
Henry scrunched his nose in confusion. “Who’s that?”
“Ugh,” I wailed, exhausted from his questions. “It’s a book thing.”
“Okay . . .” he drew out, leaving my office for our bedroom.
Life can change so quickly if you’re not paying attention. One minute, I thought Henry was going to break up with me, and the next, I’m engaged, living in a home we bought together on the outskirts of New York City, and taking a chance as a full-time author. I left Friendly Felines once Henry showed me his first paycheck. He said he wanted me to focus on my writing and the baby, so that’s what I did. I took the opportunity to make my dream a reality.
The only thing that didn’t change was the presence of Sir Licks-a-Lot. He made the move along with his collection of my torn-up bras he used as half shells to sit in. He now had a laundry room to crap in, and a larger house to destroy. His favorite thing: pushing glasses of water off the table. Cats! If Henry and Sir Licks-a-Lot didn’t have such a bro-mance, I would have found a different home for the feline, but that wasn’t an option.
Despite my hatred for the cat, we’d found a mutual understanding. He stayed on his side of the house, and I stayed on mine. We shared Henry when he got home, but at night, in bed, that was when I bogarted the man. It was an even trade.
Delaney and Derk got married. It was a beautiful ceremony, put on by their parents. I was able to wear an empire waist dress, thankfully, that didn’t make me look like a whale. Henry, of course, looked sexy as usual in his tailored suit, to the point that I had sex with him in the reception hall bathroom. I had no shame.
Since the proposal, I hadn’t taken a break when it came to being intimate with my man. Every chance I got, I was at him; it was a little much at times, but I blamed the hormones and the cologne he wore: lethal combination.
Henry’s been kicking butt with his new job, and funny enough, he hired Freddy as his assistant, despite his unnecessary bro-cabulary. Freddy was damn good at his job, and now sported his sensitive side. Henry went out to a gay bar with him a few months back, spotted another pumped-up beefcake just like Freddy, and helped him score a date. They weren’t your typical gay couple—if you were into horrible stereotypes—they bonded over weightlifting, protein shakes, and woodworking. They were a fantastic couple I enjoyed having game night with, even though sometimes I could throttle Freddy if he called Henry bro one more time.
“They’re here,” Henry called out from the entryway. From a distance, I could hear Delaney and Derk greet Henry and Sir Licks-a-Lot. “She’s in her office. Follow me.”
“When are you going to decorate this place? It’s called a picture, Henry, try hanging one,” Delaney said with snark.
“We’re taking our time. We want some family pictures to hang. Cool your tits, Delaney. It will happen.”
Henry was right. We hadn’t done much decorating, because I wanted to take my time, really make the home ours. I didn’t plan on moving ever again. This was it for me.
“There’s our famous author!” Delaney shouted, as she came running into the office, holding a bottle of sparkling cider. This kid couldn’t come out quick enough.
“I’m not even close to being famous. I’m just hitting the publish button, that’s all.”
“But it’s a big deal,” Delaney added. “You’ve come so far from writing about briar patches and matching pubic hairs.”
“I still wrote about that in this book,” I laughed.
“But in a joking, na?ve kind of way. It’s perfect, Rosie.”
She was right, I took my entire dating life leading up to Henry and put it on display, including Marta, the redbrick road, kicking men in the balls, and using dating websites that didn’t even come close to working out for me. I put it all on display, even farting on a chin—Henry didn’t like that part. He didn’t want to relive the memory of another man being in “his territory.”