Epiphany (15 page)

“Yes, I’m fine,” I respond exasperated. God forbid I choose to ignore him, I’ll never
hear the end of it. I’m also quite certain that if I didn’t answer, he’d break the
door down.

“Just checking.”
Aren’t you always
just checking
?

While I finish applying my makeup, I contemplate jumping out of the window, then I
realize I’m eight stories up and that probably wouldn’t end well for me or the baby.
With one last swipe of mascara, I’m out the door, only to run smack into Skylar.

“Are you kidding me?” Zero privacy.

“I was just coming back to ask when you’d be done.”

“It’s not been two minutes since you last checked on me. I get your
concern,
I really do, but shit. I just want to be left alone for a minute. Give me some
time with my own thoughts or something.” I immediately regret snapping when his face
drops and some of the sparkle in his eyes disappears. He just loves me and wants
me to be okay. Looking up at the ceiling, I inwardly curse all things hormones.

“Babe, I’m so sorry. I’m just all over the place. Please don’t hate me,” I beg,
grabbing the sides of his face, pulling him to look at me, to see my sincerity.

“I know, it’s just hard.
I’ll try not to smother you anymore.” He leans toward me, kisses the tip of my
nose and nearly drags me into the living room.

Slipping into a pair of flats and tossing a jacket over my shoulder, I’m ready to
head out for the evening. With everything going on with the baby, Maddie and regular
life stuff, we haven’t had a chance for any kind of date. Tonight, though, is a different
scenario. Both of us have our phones turned off and we’re headed out for a night
on the town.

First stop—dinner.

Opting for valet parking, Skylar hands the keys over to the attendant. He makes it
very clear to the young kid who can’t be any older than eighteen that if there are
any scratches on his car, he’s not going to be too happy about it. The kid brushes
him off until he sees the ‘Hooliganz’ sticker on the back window and quickly changes
his story, speaking clearly and using a lot of ‘sirs’ when addressing Skylar. It’s
fucking hilarious.

The maitre d’ takes us to our table, where we’re immediately met with a smiling, well
dressed waiter who’s ready to take our drink order. Unlike many of the restaurants
we’ve frequented in the past, this waiter doesn’t even pull out a fancy little notepad
to take our order. I’m impressed.

“I’ll have a diet cola please,” I say, redirecting my attention to the menu that’s
filled with just about everything. It all sounds so delicious; I’m salivating over
the thought and barely register Skylar not giving his drink request. Peeling my eyes
from the menu, I look over it and see Skylar scowling at me.

“What? If you want to drink, I won’t be upset. Get whatever you want. This is your
night, too.”

“You can’t have diet pop,” he whispers, leaning over the table, like he doesn’t want
to embarrass me.

“Are they out?”

“The baby books say no diet anything. Not good for …” His
eyes scan below my breasts, eyeing my stomach. Not good for the baby?
Since when?

“What the hell are you talking about?” I hiss, apologizing with my eyes to the kind
waiter who’s standing impatiently waiting for us to finish our debate.

“I read one of those books. It says no diet pop. You already had coffee today and
that’s all the caffeine you’re allowed, too.
Maybe just some water?”
Christ. He tries to be proactive and be on top of all this baby nonsense and he
picks to read about the stuff I
can’t
have.

“Never mind on the diet, I’ll take a water
instead,” I mutter, not very happy with this decision. Water is so … bland. The
nice guy that Skylar is, he orders
a water
also, which just pisses me off even more. It shouldn’t, but it does. Just because
I can’t have something doesn’t mean he can’t. This child is making me insane already—I
can’t keep my emotions in check to save my life.

The waiter walks off to get our drinks and I go back to the menu. “The scampi sounds
amazing,” I say, my mouth watering as the words roll off my tongue. Skylar coughs
and my eyes dart to his, ready for an argument. “Let me guess. I can’t have that,
either.” Skylar shakes his head and tries to hide his smirk.

“No shellfish,” he says, pushing the menu higher until I can only see his eyes.

“Great,” I sigh, moving down to the steaks.
“A porterhouse?”
How ridiculous is this?
A grown woman running her food choices by her fiancé.

“Probably not.
You like your steak cooked medium rare and you shouldn’t have undercooked meat.”

“What exactly
can
I have then?” The only thing keeping this paper in my hand and not flying across
the room is the prices on the menu. Expensive restaurants and crazy people don’t
mix too well.

Skylar peruses my choices, pointing out a few items that are apparently food for pregnant
women—salad, chicken, and pasta.

“Chicken,” I huff, already pissed off about my dinner. No place ever cooks it right;
always dry and tasteless—just like my fucking water.

The waiter returns with our drinks, or lack thereof, and takes our dinner order.
When Skylar’s about to tell him he wants the chicken, I kick him rather hard under
the table, letting him know not to screw with me. Thankfully he gets the hint and
orders the salmon, which I hate anyway, so it’s a win for him.

I’m picking at the bread, careful not to put too much butter on any given piece, in
fear of another lecture. I can handle being without shellfish and undercooked meat
for a few months. If you try to take away my butter, I might cut you on the spot.

“You know the good thing about being pregnant?” Skylar asks.

Rolling my eyes and shoving another bite of bread in my mouth, I answer, “What would
that be? That I can drink all the water I want?”

“No, smartass.
You can have all the
dessert
you want.” Oh, really now? This is a very interesting fact, one that I’d like to
know more about.

“Keep talking.” My spirits automatically lifted. I’m considering canceling our dinner
order and asking for the dessert menu right now.

“This place has the best chocolate mousse in the city. Kinky told me about it the
other night and made sure to emphasize that there’s no limit. I even checked the
baby book—it’s true.” My lips turn upward and I’m not longer angry at life, but ready
to finish my dry-ass chicken so I can have something sweet.

Right on cue, the waiter deposits our plates and returns a moment after that with
the dessert choices. I take a few bites of the chicken, which to my surprise isn’t
dry at all; it’s the most delicious picata I’ve ever eaten. The asparagus is also
steamed to perfection and the mashed potatoes are fantastic. I had planned on consuming
only a small amount, just enough to appease Skylar, but I can’t help myself. I’d
give
this meal five stars all day long.

When everything is cleared away, the waiter is back, waiting for our next order.
Scanning my choices, I make the decision for both of us. “I’ll have the chocolate
mousse and he’ll have the lava cake ala mode.”

“I was thinking I’d have the raspberry cheesecake,” Skylar pipes in, throwing me off.
The waiter stares between us, unsure of what to do.

“The cheesecake as well, please,” I dismiss him. Skylar’s shoulders bounce with laughter,
making me silently giggle.

“I don’t eat chocolate. Why would you order that for me?” he asks between chuckles.

“How the hell am I gonna look ordering all that for me? Pregnant or not, I can’t
let people think I’m some kind of fat ass. I ate every bite of that chicken, half
the bread basket and then two desserts. No, I can’t.”

“You’re something else.”

“So I’ve been told.”

This is exactly what I needed—a casual night out with Skylar. Finally, I’m able to
enjoy this pregnancy without any of the added pressure of talking about it constantly.
It’s a breath of fresh air. I’m smitten a little, too, knowing Skylar’s done so much
research already. I never thought he wouldn’t be a good father, but the way he’s
caring for me as well … it’s the best feeling any soon-to-be-mother could have.

When the food arrives, I waste no time digging in, devouring every bite of mine and
a few of Skylar’s. Everything’s so damn delicious I place a separate order for an
entire cheesecake to take home. I think I’m going to quickly get over this fear of
being judged, especially when things taste this good. I’d be a fool to let it bother
me.

As we’re waiting on the valet attendant to return with the car, a sudden wave of exhaustion
hits me like a ton of bricks. Standing on the side of the road, I’m barely able to
hold my eyes open. I’m probably experiencing a food coma and it feels so good.

Forgoing the rest of our evening, Skylar agrees to take me home so I can rest. We
had planned on going to the casino after dinner. There’s no possible way I could
make it through a night of gambling and the thought of the smoking old ladies who
just got their social security checks is enough to make me gag.

My stomach turns and a small amount of bile comes up my throat. Oh hell. I’ve not
had much morning sickness, but it’s all hitting me now.

Swallowing down whatever’s trying to come up, I manage to keep everything down … for
now. Walking in the front door, the first thing to go is my shoes, followed by my
jacket and bra. The last week, my breasts have been so sore and swollen, keeping
them in the confines of a sexy, lacy bra the entire night was almost too much to handle.

Scratching my boobs, much like my grandfather scratches his belly after Thanksgiving
dinner, I find myself staring in my closet, searching for something. Skylar comes
up behind me, taking over the scratching, I’m sure just to cop a feel, and stares
deep into the space with me.

“What are you looking for?” What the hell
am
I looking for? I know I wanted something.

“I don’t remember,” I sigh, racking my brain, trying to remember what I was doing.

Jammies!

“Need something to wear to bed,” I say, laughing at my forgetfulness.

“I read about this, too. I think they called it ‘Pregnant Brain’. There are a lot
of women that forget things at the drop of a dime. You’re not losing your mind …
yet, anyway,” he kids, walking to the dresser and taking off his watch.

Pulling a clean tank top from the hanger and a pair of cotton shorts from the drawer,
I change quickly and jump into bed. Skylar’s not far behind with the cheesecake,
two forks and TV remote. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes.

He turns on a recorded episode of
Grey’s Anatomy
and takes a bite of the cake. Leaning over, I kiss him softly, the taste of raspberries
invading my mouth. Licking my lips, I turn my attention back to the TV and watch
McDreamy fight with Meredith about something while I scoot closer to my McYummy.

****

There’s only about half an hour left on the ship until we’re back to the dock. Skylar
leads me outside to the deck for a little privacy. Even though there are maybe only
twenty people aboard, including the captain and crew, it’s a little cramped. There
doesn’t appear to be anyone outside so we’ll make this our little getaway for a bit.

Sky eyes a few deck chairs and a throw blanket. He leads me toward them, sitting
down on one of the chairs. I move to sit on the other when Skylar pulls my hand,
forcing my body to him. He motions
for me to sit between his legs and I couldn’t be happier. I gladly lay on him, my
back to his chest, between his muscular thighs. When Skylar pulls the throw blanket
over us, I snuggle even closer. This is what heaven feels like.

I’ve almost drifted off to sleep when I hear Skylar mumbling behind me, placing light
kisses on the top of my head. I don’t know if he wants me to hear what he’s saying
so I just stay still and listen.

“You’re so beautiful. You were made for me.” Kiss. “I don’t know what I would do
without you.” Kiss. “I’ve loved you for longer than you even realize.” Kiss. “Probably
since the day you were born.” Kiss. “God made you just for me.” Kiss. “There’s
never going to be anyone else.” Kiss. “I’m going to live everyday to make you smile.”

When the tears start rolling down my cheeks, I can’t help it. I turn around quickly
and look my sweet man in his eyes. I love him so much, my heart’s about to beat out
of my chest. Every single thing he said to me I feel for him. He’s everything.
He’s
my everything.

Waking up from the most amazing dream—more of a memory—of our first date, I reach
over to Skylar who’s still fast asleep. The TV still going in the background and
the empty cheesecake container tipped over at the foot of the bed, I look over at
the alarm clock. 6 AM.
Still pretty early.

I move to roll over and go back to sleep for a few hours, when I feel something sticky
between my thighs. If I’ve diddled and came in my sleep, I’m never going to live
it down. Scurrying to get out of bed and clean up this mess, I rush into the bathroom
for a wash cloth to clean my legs.

I wait to turn the light on until the door’s closed, hoping to not wake Skylar. Flipping
the switch, the room illuminates and I grab the rag I used earlier in the shower.
Turning on the water and waiting for it to get warm, I dampen the towel and rub the
insides of my legs. It’s not until I go to rinse it and clean more, that I realize
the pink tinted water in the sink basin.