“Dinner’s getting cold,” she said.
“One dinner for my hungry wife, coming up.”
Chapter 2
Hailey
Last night had been fabulous. Dinner was wonderful, dessert was intoxicating, and I fell asleep with Bryan’s voice muttering how much he loved me. Our intimate life had skyrocketed since I’d gotten pregnant. My hormones were in overdrive, and it caused us to mark every city we came into contact with while we had been on my European tour. He would wrap his arms around me and lazily slide in, robbing me of my very breath as he shot electricity throughout my body. I loved it when he held me close and cradled my stomach. It was like he was holding the proof of our love as we continued to brew it between the two of us. He was my muse. My artistic expression. My body’s way of proving to me that I was still alive and kicking despite everything I had gone through.
But I hated myself whenever I looked into a mirror.
I knew I needed to be gentler on myself. After all, I was growing a child. But I felt my body wasn’t mine anymore. I looked at my hair that was steadily growing back, the brown hair I’d known throughout my childhood. I didn’t feel like a brunette. I felt like a wild, spicy redhead. But with all the chemicals in hair dyes, I was advised by my doctor against using them.
And that was before I looked into a mirror.
Whenever I stood in front of a mirror, the only thing I could do was take stock of how my body was changing. My thighs were larger and ricocheting with light stretch marks. My stomach was split in half by a darkened line as my belly button protruded from my body. My arms were bigger than ever, and my feet were spreading so much, I had to buy all new shoes along with all new clothes the bigger I became. My cheeks were rounder and redder, and there were angry purple stretch marks that cascaded down my stomach. None of my clothes fit properly, and I had grown to a point where Bryan could no longer fully wrap his arms around me.
Every time I looked in a mirror, I became a bit more depressed. I had watched the cancer treatment rob me of the curves of my body, and now I was watching this pregnancy grow my curves to points I’d never wanted them to reach. And I loved this baby. This baby was proof that I had survived, that I could live a normal life, that even with all of the turmoil Bryan and I had gone through, we could still create a beautiful life with one another.
But I was seven months pregnant, and I had never felt more unattractive in my life.
No matter how many times Bryan declared I was beautiful and no matter how many times he made love to me, I still felt unattractive. No matter how many times people doted on how well I was carrying my weight and how radiant my face looked, I still felt unattractive. Every time I woke up and stood in front of the mirror, trying to piece myself together, I saw some new thing about me that was changing, a new fat roll that had popped up or a new stretch mark that had burst onto the scene. I was an everchanging sculpture that was being carved by a madman. I was a painting slowly dripping in the rain after not having properly dried. Now, the evidence of my exhaustion was on my face. I could hit a point in my pregnancy where heartburn was waking me up and getting up to go to the bathroom was its own abdominal workout. There were bags tugging at the bottom of my eyes and rings that were beginning to form, darkened rings that cast a shadow over the entirety of my face.
And I couldn't even have caffeine because I was pregnant.
Peeling myself from Bryan's arms, I allowed the sunlight to drench my face. We had just gotten back from my European art tour a couple of weeks ago, and we were still settling in. I busied myself at home with painting the nursery before I decided to go back to work, but each day I woke up became a little harder than the last. If it wasn't the heartburn or the constant need to pee that was keeping me up, it was the fact that our child was pummeling my insides and using my kidney and liver as a punching bag while I try to prop myself up to get it to stop.
Needless to say, I was not one of those women who enjoyed being pregnant.
I slid from the bed and slowly made my way to the bathroom. I knew I was about to start my morning ritual with picking apart every little detail that had changed overnight. I saw it as I turned on the light, rubbing my hand over my aching stomach. My skin was stretching to points I didn't understand were possible, and as my eyes adjusted to the light beaming through the bathroom, I thanked my stars it was Saturday.
I reached for the lotion and began to rub it all along my stomach. It was supposed to help with the stretch marks, but I came to figure out that it was simply false advertising. But still, the skin on my stomach was so dry, it was now beginning to flake.
Another change for a body that was falling apart.
I rubbed lotion on my stomach and then ran it up my chest. My breasts were so full of milk, they were beginning to leak. They were drenching the front of my shirts during the night and forcing me out of bed to change my outfit. Laundry had become a bigger task than ever because I could no longer bend over the dryer in order to pull things out. Bryan was now having to help me with things I never needed help with before, like putting on my socks or getting out of bed or picking things up from the damn floor.
It wasn't just how this pregnancy was changing my body. It was how it had rendered me useless.
“Knock, knock.”
It wasn't until Bryan had knocked on the bathroom door that I realized tears had sprung to my eyes. I rubbed the last of the lotion into my bosom and then walked over to the shower to turn it on. I tried to shield myself from him until I could get my tears to go away, but instead of taking the hint that I wanted to be alone, he came in and shut the door.
“Hailey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, sniffling. “Just a bit tired.”
“Did you not sleep well?” he asked.
“I never sleep well anymore.”
I snapped at him more than I should have and sighed. I turned my reddened face to him and allowed him to see the tears dripping down my face. Bryan’s state of shock turned to panic, and he quickly strode over to me and gathered me into his arms.
Well, he gathered up what part of me he could hold.
“What happened?” Bryan asked. “Talk to me.”
“I just want to take a shower,” I said.
“Then we’ll talk in the shower.”
I stepped into the warm stream of water and allowed it to rush down my back. I could hear Bryan's clothes dropping to the floor as he undressed. The warmth of the shower wrapped around my body, relaxing me as Bryan stepped in and closed the shower door. His arms threaded around my stomach, cradling what he could in the palm of his hand as I pressed my back into him.
“Talk to me,” he said. “Please.”
“This pregnancy is just getting hard,” I said.
“How so?” he asked.
“How so? Bryan, look at me. My stretch marks are raging out of control, my feet have spread, my thighs have gotten bigger, my boobs hurt, I can't dye my hair the way I feel it should be dyed, and there are bags under my eyes from the lack of sleep I've been getting because every time I turn around, I either have heartburn or I have to pee. I can't have caffeine to help me wake up, I can't bend into the dryer to finish the laundry, I can't even pick up a damn fork off the floor whenever I drop it, and somehow, I'm supposed to be happy with how my body is being manipulated whenever I look in a mirror.”
“Do you trust me?” Bryan asked.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.
“I asked you a simple question.”
“Of course, I trust you,” I said.
“Which do you trust more about me? My words or my actions?”
I felt his hands run up my body and cup my breast as his lips kissed the side of my neck.
“Your, um, actions. It’s always been what you do over what you say,” I said.
“Then let me show you my rebuttal to your issues.”
His lips nipped at my neck as his hands squeezed my nipples between his fingers. I sighed into the shower as the steam whipped around our bodies. His hand languidly made their way down my body, growing closer and closer to my folds. I reached back for his hair, sliding my fingers through it as he maneuvered me underneath the running water.
“Bryan,” I said breathlessly. “What are you doing?”
He spun me around in his arms, and our lips collided. Electricity zipped through my veins as a fire started in my toes. The water was running over our bodies just like his hands were running down my curves, grasping the cheeks of my ass and lifting me closer to him. He backed me into the shower wall, his lips traveling down to my breasts. He sucked and he nipped, leaving love marks behind as evidence of the love he was about to shower me with.
I was loved by the most wonderful man in the universe, and that was his point.
He dropped to his knees as my hands parted my thighs. I spread myself for him, bracing myself against the shower wall as his lips kissed my folds. His tongue breached my body, finding that beautiful spot he had all but memorized. My hand curled around the longer tendrils of his hair as my fingernails raked against his scalp.
“You are beautiful,” he said as he kissed my body. “And you will always be beautiful to me.”
His tongue brought me to heights I only experienced when I was in his arms. His hands wrapped around my thighs, spreading me farther for him as his tongue drank down my arousal. My hips rolled against his lips, my clit swelling underneath his ministrations. My entire body began locking up as my head spun with ecstasy. I loved this man. This man who knelt in front of me and brought me to swirling heights of lust. His named breathlessly dripped from my lips like a prayer as his tongue pressed deeper into my body.