“He doesn’t act turned off. I’m sure the opposite is true. It’s not easy hiding an erection when I’m lying in his lap.”
Mary laughed. “That’s true. What is it then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s afraid he’ll hurt me or the baby.”
“He’s a doctor. That can’t be it. He knows better.”
“I don’t know what it is. But I’m not going to push it. The pace is right somehow. It’s like we’re dating for the first time, getting to know each other better than we did before we started getting naked.”
“Getting to know each other after the bun is securely in the oven. Sounds ass-backwards to me.”
“Backwards but right somehow. I think he has something to prove to me and to himself.”
“He does have to prove something to you. Like he’s not going anywhere. Like he’s going to put a ring on your finger and make an honest woman of you.”
Dakota laughed. “Oh, God, not you, too.”
“You know you’re thinking about marriage.”
“I know I’m thinking about next week, next month. I’m thinking about if I’m carrying a boy or a girl.”
“And if Walt is going to make you Mrs. Walt.”
“Marriage isn’t on the table, Mary. I don’t even want to hear about forever unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“Unless he loves me . . . unless his world wouldn’t be the same without me, and not just our child. Getting married to make me an honest woman is not going to happen.”
“It sounds like you’re thinking again. Thinking and not just running.”
“I didn’t like where I was when I left California. Coming here, even dealing with my mom’s dirty looks, has done some good. I even started writing again. You know it’s bad when I’m not writing.”
“If you stop writing because of Walt, your fans are going to hate him.”
“I just needed to find my happy place again, Mary. I think I’ve done that.”
“Good. Get a clean bill of health, stay in your happy place, and get your ass home. I miss my BFF.”
Dakota laughed and had a sudden need to pee. “It is all about you.”
“It certainly is. Love you, Dakota. Don’t get too used to that Southern air again.”
“What?” she said with more accent than when she left California. “You don’t like my Southern drawl?”
“If you put a rocking chair on your porch, I’m buying a male blow-up sex doll and sitting him there.”
There she was laughing again. “I’ve gotta go. You’re making me need to pee.”
“That would be Junior jumping on your bladder, not me. But go. I have a client in twenty minutes. Take care.”
Dakota hung up and all but ran to the bathroom.
Maybe something in the water was slowing him down, or maybe it was in the air. Walt knew it had to be contagious because everywhere he looked people moved a little slower, waved a little easier, and smiled a little longer.
Walt joined Dakota for her OB appointment. He hovered when the nurse took her blood pressure, frowned when he heard she’d lost weight.
When Dr. Fisher came into the room, Dakota introduced him and insisted her doctor tell Walt everything about her condition.
“I’m encouraged to believe you’ll avoid preeclampsia throughout your pregnancy. Your pressure is down significantly since your last visit.”
Dakota smiled, Walt hesitated. “The drop could be temporary.”
“True, Doctor, but Dakota has been monitoring herself and it seems there’s been a steady decline. You should both keep an eye on her pressure, but in my experience, pressure that drops this early is a good sign that everything will even out.”
Dakota captured his hand. “I’m feeling much better.”
Walt offered a grin, but knew he’d worry even if Dakota didn’t.
Dr. Fisher pushed a portable ultrasound machine closer to the table Dakota sat on. “Are you ready to see your baby?” he asked.
Walt’s heart jumped in his chest.
He found his smile and looked into Dakota’s dark eyes.
Dakota leaned back on the table and lifted the gown enough to expose her flat stomach. It was hard to imagine their child growing inside her . . . then Dr. Fisher turned up the volume and placed the wand on her skin, Walt immediately heard the fast heartbeat of their baby.
“Do you hear that, Dakota?”
“A heartbeat?”
“Rapid.” For good measure, Walt pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Dakota’s wrist, felt her heartbeat at somewhere around seventy beats per minute. “The baby’s heart beats much faster than yours.”
“Oh my God.”
She had tears in her eyes. Walt felt his own swelling.
The images on the ultrasound were minimal. Dr. Fisher pointed out a heart, a head . . .
He was going to be a dad.
He couldn’t stop smiling.
When Walt finally tore himself away from her side and made his way back to the hotel, he spent much of the night filling out the paperwork that accompanied his new job. He logged on to his bank site and paid a couple of bills . . . early. Progress, he thought.
Now he sat beside Dakota, dressed in costumes she insisted on, and driving to a Halloween party.
“Tell me again why we’re dressed like this?”
Dakota was smiling. She wore the equivalent of a Catholic schoolgirl uniform. A plaid skirt that stopped above her knees, boots that left only a gap of three inches around her knees peeking through. She had on a white blouse unbuttoned enough to show the creamy white of her breasts, breasts that had grown when she had yet to show any real sign of pregnancy. Thanks to the morning sickness, she’d lost a few pounds, something the doctor wanted to see change if she in fact returned in a month. Even if she didn’t, her reports would fly home with her, figuratively speaking, and her doctor in California would be harping on her to gain weight.