“Jesus,” he murmurs as I soar toward heaven.
When I finally drift back to earth, the bulge in his pants looks painful.
“Should I, um...are you…”
He kisses my forehead, cheeks, and lips. “I want to take it slow. When I’m inside of you, I don’t want any other man near your mind.”
“Thank you for everything,” I whisper, because I can barely talk. “It was amazing.”
He smirks. “We’re just getting started. I’ve got a lot more to give you.”
We head inside and go our separate ways to bed. He says he’ll wait for the third date for more.
But as I lie in mine alone, I don’t know if I’ll make it that far.
Eleven
“If you move to Santa Fe, can I come with you?” Charlotte asks over the mountain of dry toast heaped on her plate. “I think I’d thrive in a drier climate.”
We met up for brunch for our planned after-date recap, but that’s been put aside because the spider senses I gained last spring in my outing with Finn tell me Charlotte’s in desperate need of some impromptu therapy since she didn’t want kids and now she’s preggo.
“I don’t know if Mr. Charlotte will be okay with you moving away. And your skin looks amazing. You’re practically glowing.”
“It’s because I’m sweating,” she says. “I’m having hot flashes or something. And honestly, I don’t care what he’s okay with anymore. He can visit or write me letters. Serves him right for knocking me up on our honeymoon, like a Victorian couple.”
“Are you all right? Tell me your troubles.”
She leans in with sad brown eyes focused on me and whispers, “I’m going to say something utterly selfish, and we can chalk it up to the raging hormones that are holding my body hostage. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“No judgment?”
“None.”
“I don’t want you to go, Chloe. I want you to turn it down, even though it’s your dream job. I don’t care that it’s more money and what you’ve always wanted. I want you to stay here in Colorado with me. Because I need help to survive this pregnancy and motherhood thing, and I won’t survive without you.” She leans back. “Now you say something selfish, so I don’t feel so bad.”
“I want to be you. But not in a Hand That Rocks the Cradle way. I want a loving husband and the kids and the cute little bump in my belly. I want to take all of you to Santa Fe with me, and uproot you from your happy life here, so I won’t be alone. Santa Fe is only six hours away, but it feels like six hundred. It feels way too far.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes. “Oh God, I’m going to cry.”
“Don’t cry,” I plead, fighting back tears of my own. “If I go, we’ll still see each other regularly. I’ll come up on weekends as often as I can. You can come visit me too.” She wipes her eyes. “Please, don’t cry.”
“It’s unstoppable. I cry over everything now. The other day, I burnt my pizza and bawled for thirty minutes. And I didn’t even want pizza!” I listen as she gets everything off her burgeoning chest. “My worst moment was in the grocery store when the guy in the bakery told me they were out of chocolate croissants and I started blubbering in front of ten people. I don’t enjoy being a crier. Other Mother said to get used to it, that this baby will give me cause to weep an ocean. And I cried over that too.”
“Well, I have no experience in this area, but I’ve heard people say this stuff is all temporary. Maybe you can take a class?”
“For crying?”
I laugh. “No. A parenting class.”
“Maybe.” She sighs. “I don’t really want you to turn down that opportunity. But I do want to go with you.”
“Charlotte,” I say gently, fighting back tears of my own, “it’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t understand. It’s the weirdest thing ever that’s going on within my body. I have super-smelling abilities now. Like a bloodhound. Think I’m exaggerating? Someone is pouring syrup right now, aren’t they?”
I glance over to the diners seated next to us and spy a lady four tables behind us lathering her stack of pancakes in gooey syrup.
“Huh. Yep, they are. That’s pretty cool.” I smile, but she doesn’t.
“It’s not cool at all. I can smell it all the way over here, and if they don’t stop, I might gag. I’ve always loved syrup, but now, it’s revolting.” She picks up a triangle of toast. “You think I want this dry? I don’t. I want it smothered in butter and jam, but the nugget inside me says no.”
“It’ll pass,” I reassure her. “I’m sure you’ll like things you hated before too. My mom always tells a story about how she never liked ranch dressing until she was pregnant with me.”
She shivers. “Yuck. Just the thought of that makes me want to hurl.”
“Okay, listen. Push all those thoughts away and think of all the tiny cuteness swaddled next to your bosom.”
“But what if I don’t like swaddling? Or things touching my bosom? Or…what if I just don’t like the kid? You can’t order the one you want, you just get what you get and maybe I get one that is incompatible with me. Can I just give it to you? I think I’d make a really cool aunt.”
“You’ll make a really cool mom, too,” I insist. “And I hear you tend to like your own.”
Charlotte isn’t convinced, and before I can say anything further, a shadow falls on our table. I glance up to see not our waiter…but Austin.
“What are you doing here?”
“I figured it was your after-date recap, and I wasn’t going to miss that.” He motions for me to scoot over in the booth.
“But you can’t…when you were the date…”
He slides in next to me. “Why not?”
Charlotte thinks it’s a great idea for him to take part, which I suspect is because she really isn’t interested in therapizing herself further and could use the backup.
“It’s healthy to have a discussion where both people can provide feedback,” she coaxes. “And I need the distraction from my problems.”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Come on, Chloe,” Austin says. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
“Please?” Charlotte gives me puppy-dog eyes.
“Oh, all right.” Because I’m a good friend, I try to pretend Austin isn’t here as I open up to Charlotte. “It was an amazing date.”
“How so?” Austin asks. “What was your favorite part? Beginning, middle…or end?”
My eyes widen at the memory of the spectacular orgasm on the porch, and I give his leg a swift nudge with my foot under the table, then swing back to caress it.
“Let her finish,” Charlotte says. “I need all the swoony details.”
I twist my napkin between my fingers. “You know how much I’ve liked Austin. And how deeply I feel about him because of how well he knows me.” She nods. “And our friendship is so amazing. You said living with him would be a bad idea, but—”