Seconds later, I see a little head full of sandy blonde curls bouncing in the air. Erin barrels over to me with such great speed that I think she’s going to tackle me, but she doesn’t. She places her little palms flat on my belly and shouts, “Baby. Baby. Baby.”
I jump and my heart drops to my stomach. “Erin!” I call out.
“Oh, Erin! Not again.” The teacher glances over to me and laughs. “You look as though you’ve seen an UFO!” Attempting to catch myself, I shut my mouth and try to breathe. “No.” She shakes her head attempting to slow her mirth. “The head teacher, Ms. Ana, shared with the kids today that she’s expecting. She allowed them to rub her belly and say hello to the baby. They’ve been obsessed with the notion all day.”
Oh! My belly flutters at Erin’s gentle touch. She’s still speaking to it.
Oh, my god…it!
“Erin, let’s go grab your things.” The teacher grabs Erin by the hand, still amused by my apparent discomfort, and they take off for her things.
I take Erin to get a bite to eat and chat with her a while before dropping her off home. I head straight to the marina to warm dinner for Azmir and me. My mind is churning with its old acquaintance; pessimism. I try to tell myself this isn’t the worst thing in the world, just horribly timed. Azmir has made it clear that he wants kids. He is, after all, significantly older than I am and probably should endeavor to parent at his age. It’s just that I’m not ready. What if he purposely chose a younger woman whose trim and fit and after I deliver the baby, he no longer desires me? Will he replace me?
Being grabbed gingerly from behind startles me. I drop the serving spoon into the Alfredo sauce as I gulp in air. Azmir catches me somewhere in flight and pulls me into his hard body. He presses his warm and soft lips to my neck and nibbles.
“It’s me, Mrs. Jacobs,” he whispers into my neck on a snicker and I fight to relax my body. “I ain’t mean to scare you.” His Brooklyn tongue is working my skin and eardrums.
“Well, you did,” I scold him as my feet find their way to the floor. My legs are shaky, still trying to recover from being frightened. “Dinner will be ready in a minute.”
Azmir doesn’t let up off me now that I’m standing on my own. And now I feel his erection pressing against my lower back, just above my cheeks. His delicious scent is blanketing me.
“What about you?” he growls into my neck. “Are you ready for me yet?”
I know he’s revved up, coiled like a tight wire. It’s been a while; my sexual appetite has been off. I’ve been hiding behind his travel and my enduring symptoms from the bug I came down with in San Francisco. I’ve never denied Azmir. My body has never allowed me to. It’s always betrayed me for Azmir. But since being…pregnant…it’s been under the weather, cooking up a mini Azmir.
Oh, my gosh! Did I say that?
“I had a bad day at work with spitting up mucus. It’s not as bad as it was last week, but all of the coughing has worn me out,” I lie. I haven’t coughed in about a week, but he doesn’t know this as he’s been away. “I took something when I got in.” I wrap my arm around his neck from behind me. “I’m sorry, baby. That bug has put me in a man down situation,” I try to chuckle.
“It’s put me in a man down situation,” he sulks. “I miss you, baby.” Azmir rubs my breasts that have been feeling heavier than usual.
“Azmir, we’re over the stove,” I try to ward him off.
“Jacobs, I’m so ready for you that I’ll let you ride me while I sit on the hot racks.”
“I know, baby,” I murmur weakly. “I’ll be ready for you soon.” I angle my neck to kiss him. “Now, go get washed up so I can feed you.”
I feel him exhale heavily on the back of my neck. Azmir plants another warm kiss there before he walks off, taking his warmth, leaving me feeling suddenly bereft from his tender contact.
~~~~~~~~~~
I’ve been up for at least ten minutes and the first thing I do is marvel at the absence of nausea. I don’t feel sick. This would be the first time in nearly three weeks that I’m not disgustingly ill!
I don’t exactly feel 100% like myself, but thank God I’m not prepared to puke my guts out. Before I get too excited I decide to sit up quietly without disturbing the men in my bed. Poor Azmir: since moving in, I’ve laid claim to his incredibly plush bed, and Azna pretty much rivals my entitlement.
I hear the caws of the seagulls of the marina as I slowly turn to my left and lay eyes on a sleeping Azmir. God, he’s beautiful! His almond crest eyes are closed displaying is long lashes, his narrow nose is inaudible, and his luscious lips are parted and moist. He’s sleeping quietly. His left arm rests beneath his pillow, showcasing the knots in it. He looks innocent and serene. Azmir’s repose state makes me want to protect him, nestle him. He hardly resembles the formidable corporate thug that he exudes when he’s roused and in action.