“And where did you become board certified in obstetrics, Mr. Emerson?”
“It’s Professor Emerson, and I went to Harvard. Where did you go, an anti–oral sex college?”
“Darling.” Julia placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Dr. Rubio is trying to help us and the baby. We want to be healthy.”
“Cunnilingus is healthy,” he huffed. “I can prove it.”
Dr. Rubio cursed obliquely in Spanish. “If air enters the vagina, it could cause an air embolism, which might harm the baby. I advise all my patients not to engage in that kind of oral sex. I’m not picking on you especially, Professor Emerson. Now, I’ll see you at your next appointment. Don’t forget—no caffeine, no raw milk products, no Brie or Camembert, no alcohol, no shellfish, no sushi, no peanut butter, and certainly, no oral sex.” She glared in Gabriel’s direction.
“One might as well say ‘no pleasure.’ What the hell is left?” he complained, moodily.
Julia giggled nervously. “I’m sure we can find something. Thanks, Dr. Rubio.”
And with that Gabriel drove Julia to the nearest Barnes and Noble, whereupon he bought no less than three pregnancy books, all of which stated that cunnilingus during pregnancy was fine, so long as air didn’t enter the vagina.
Then the Emersons retired to their home, whereupon the Professor commenced proving his point.
“I’m not sure you should come with me to my next doctor’s appointment,” Julia mused as she dressed one morning.
It was January twenty-first, the date of their first wedding anniversary. Rebecca (who was delighted at the prospect of becoming a nanny in addition to her housekeeping duties) had rented out her house in Norwood and moved into one of the guest bedrooms. Julia found her presence comforting, especially since she and Gabriel no longer had mothers to guide them through pregnancy.
“I’m going to all your appointments. Rubio doesn’t scare me.” Gabriel sounded impatient as he buttoned up his dress shirt. “And she doesn’t know everything, either.”
Julia didn’t bother arguing.
She was in her second month of pregnancy and was already feeling the effects. Her breasts had enlarged and were very tender. She was exhausted most of the time, and she’d become sensitive to various scents. She’d had to request that Gabriel no longer wear Aramis because she couldn’t stand the smell. And she’d gotten rid of all her vanilla-scented products and replaced them with grapefruit-scented items because it was one of the few smells she could still tolerate.
To Gabriel’s delight, however, Julia’s hormones were such that she wanted sex several times a day. He was happy to accommodate her.
(For in this respect, as in several others, he was the consummate gentleman.) “Are you all right?” Gabriel observed her face, which had taken on a greenish cast.
She continued buttoning up her jeans. “Look, Gabriel, they still fit.”
He reached over to kiss her forehead. “That’s great, darling. But we should probably start shopping for maternity clothes.”
“I don’t want to spend my anniversary shopping.”
“We don’t have to. But I thought we’d spend some time walking around Copley Place before we check into the Plaza for the weekend.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “That sounds good.”
By the time she reached the kitchen her stomach had begun to roll. She eyed the platter of scrambled eggs on the breakfast table as Gabriel helped himself to a few strips of bacon.
She felt a funny sensation in the back of her throat.
“Why don’t you start with a slice of dry toast? That’s what I used to do every morning.” Rebecca picked up a loaf of bread and motioned toward the toaster.
“I don’t feel good,” Julia announced, closing her eyes.
“I bought more ginger ale. Sit down and I’ll get you one.” Rebecca put the bread aside and moved toward the fridge.
Before Julia could respond, she felt her stomach heave. She covered her mouth and ran for the nearest bathroom.
Gabriel followed, the sounds of her retching echoing down the hall.
“Sweetheart.” He crouched next to her, reaching around to lift her hair out of the way.
She was on her knees, head hanging over the toilet.
She vomited again and again, her stomach emptying.
Gabriel rubbed her back with his other hand. He fetched her a towel to wipe her mouth and a glass of water.
“This must be love,” she murmured, in between sips of water.
“What’s that?” He sat behind her, cradling her in his arms.
“You held my hair, Professor. You must love me.”
He reached a tentative hand to her lower abdomen. “I seem to recall you looking after me once, when I was sick. And that was before you loved me.”
“I always loved you, Gabriel.”
“Thank you.” He kissed her forehead. “We made this little one together. You aren’t going to scare me off with bodily fluids.”
“I’ll remember that when my water breaks.”