I walked back out into the room where he sat waiting.
“What is it baby, what happened?”
I had tears rolling down my cheeks so of course he thought there was something wrong.
“Sit down baby.” He looked like he wanted to argue but he sat with his eyes on mine. He looked so worried, how had I ever doubted this man? Okay Nessa don’t get carried away, you doubted because he was being an ass-hat. But that was then this is now.
I pulled the stick from behind my back and held it out to him.
He took it with a worried look on his face until he caught on.
“Are you, are we, you’re. Are you sure?” His voice had gone whisper soft; it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.
I nodded my head yes and he stood and grabbed me up in his arms twirling me around. We were laughing and crying together and I was so happy that I hadn’t waited.
Of course I had no idea until now that my husband was a lunatic, not bat-shit cray-cray like the hagfish, but he had something going on. It started like this. When we left our hometown to come up to his secret place the intent was to walk the trail, do some hiking, maybe fuck like rabbits down by the cute little spring he’d shown me the first time he brought me up here. Mind you it was just a few short hours ago when this had been on the agenda.
Fast-forward to groundbreaking news ‘baby onboard’ and this captain in the American army, a man mind you with a stellar education as well. Just totally lost his shit. Apparently pregnant women lose the ability to walk. ‘You’re not walking the trail babe it’s too steep in some places: you sure you’re supposed to be wearing those jeans, aren’t those too tight? Babe maybe I should run down to the little market (it’s about another hour away) and get you some more fresh fruit and stuff because I don’t think we brought enough.’ This was part of the diatribe that I heard while I was relegated to the big stuffed chair in the corner and told to stay off my feet.
“I’m moving in with the other crazy one when we get back.” That stopped him in his tracks; from what I could tell he was looking around the cabin in search of hazards from which to protect the pregnant lady.
“Who, what?”
“Your twisted chromosome of an incubator, I think I’ll move in with her. At least I know her brand of crazy, yours is freaking me out.” He got a hurt look on his face that lasted all of two seconds.
“Cute, but here’s the deal. You, get to carry him or her, I have no control over what goes on inside there even though he or she is mine. So whatever I have to do from out here to ensure their safety will be done and you will follow orders.”
This fool is having an out of body or some shit. I sat there for literally forty-five minutes while he went down a list of my new dos and don’ts. It was only half way through that I realized he was scared shitless. How did I figure this out? he knelt down in front of me and with the sweetest look on his face, placed his big hand over my tummy and said, ‘I don’t want anything to happen to either of you, you’re my whole world’. Of course I started crying and he started worrying about why I was crying.
Needless to say the weekend did not turn out the way I expected it to; it was better. After he got over his…whatever the hell that was that he’d gone through, I’d got him to calm down just a little. There was no real service up here so I didn’t have the Google monster to help me teach him some of what he needed to know. But when I reminded him that women had been carrying and birthing babies for a few thousand years now no problem, he seemed to snap out of it. A little.
The sex was phenomenal. Of course the crazy man thought he had to take it slow, so that’s how the forty or so encounters we had that weekend started out. But just as he started getting into the groove of things, I’d whisper something about his big cock breeding me in his ear, and his dick would take over. Best freaking sex in the world; I got the tender, sweet, ‘if I touch you too hard you might break’ loving, along with the jack hammering that my coochie craved. Win-win.
Now we’re back home. Nothing looked disturbed this time thank fuck. I guess the crackpot found another outlet for her psychosis. I found out what that was when I hit the replay button on the voicemail. “Oh shit on a stick.” Who the fuck leaves someone over fifty messages in one weekend? I didn’t even know these things could hold that many messages.