He crossed to her and took her in his arms. “Something must be wrong, Lis. Please tell me what.” He wasn’t sure he was ever going to become accustomed to her unpredictable mood swings.
Laying her head against him, she sniffed noisily, then muttered something inaudible.
“Hmm?” he asked, stroking her hair.
“I can’t tie my shoe,” she said more loudly.
He had to use every muscle in his face to hold back the grin that threatened to burst forth as he took stock of the situation. His beautiful talented wife could no longer reach her arms around her expanding belly to get to her feet.
“Then I guess it’s my job to do it for you, huh?” he asked once he was sure he had his smile under control.
She pulled back from him. “I guess,” she said, holding her foot out dejectedly.
She teetered a little when Marcus bent to his task. “Maybe you better sit down.” He nudged her backward to the bed.
Kneeling, he tied the shoe and then slid the other shoe onto her other foot, tying that one, as well. Just as he was finishing, he felt her foot quiver, spasms that were repeated throughout her body, even shaking the bed.
Damn. If she was sobbing that hard she really had it bad.
“It’s okay, Lis,” he said, running his hand gently along her calf. He glanced up at her, wishing he could do more to help her—and couldn’t believe what he saw. She wasn’t crying. She was laughing so hard her whole body shook.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” she said, through her mirth. “It’s just…seeing you down there…” She broke into another peel of laughter.
Feeling alive and in love, and very relieved to see his wife had regained her sense of humor, Marcus took her into his arms, sharing her laughter and her love.
Their walk was postponed until later in the afternoon.
THE SHOWER WAS RUNNING. Marcus could hear it when he came in from work one Thursday during the last week in February. Dropping his briefcase in the office, he climbed the stairs, a grin on his face, one he could definitely share with his wife. It must not have been one of Lisa’s more energetic days if she was only just getting around to showering at four o’clock in the afternoon. It amused him how much a lady of leisure she was becoming as each day seemed to add another pound for her slight frame to carry around. He loved having Lisa pregnant.
There were still times when his laughter stuck in his throat, when he thought about what might have been if Lisa’s pregnancy had been as real for him as it was for her. But he’d learned to ignore those moments. Most of them.
He could see her through the steamy glass door of the shower enclosure. Her head was back, her hands running through her hair as the water ran across her face and down over her shoulders. Marcus’s gaze followed the route the water was taking, stopping at Lisa’s ripe breasts. Her nipples pebbled as the water caressed them and then streamed over her rounded belly.
His own body hardened with desire and with sheer male pride as he watched her. His woman. The baby she was carrying wasn’t his, but the woman was. He was the only man who would ever know this particular sight of her, naked and wet and swollen with child. Marcus had never been more grateful for anything in his life.
Stripping off his clothes, he joined her in the shower, greeting her with a wet heated kiss.
“Nice greeting,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m glad you’re home.”
He licked a drop of water off from her chin. “Had a rough afternoon?”
“I seem to have slept most of it away,” she said, grinning at him.
Marcus took the bar of soap from its dish and began a leisurely exploration of Lisa’s curves, caressing her shoulders and then her breasts.
“Mmm. This was worth getting up for.” Lisa’s eyes were closed, her lips smiling and moist. Marcus bent to kiss them as his soapy hands moved down to caress the stretched skin of her belly.
He touched her so tenderly, his big hands almost reverent in their attention, that Lisa thought she’d die of love for him. The water grew cold and Marcus turned it off, never missing a beat as he continued to kiss her. Wrapping her in a big fluffy bath towel, he lifted her and carried her to their bed.
But later that night, when the loving was done, she couldn’t help wishing that the wealth of tenderness Marcus was showing her included the child she carried….
BETH STOPPED to see Lisa the next day on her way home from work.
“How ya doing, Mama?” she asked, giving Lisa a hug.
“I don’t know,” Lisa said, returning the hug.
Beth’s stomach sank. “You’re not feeling well?” she asked, searching Lisa’s face for any sign of pain, pallor, anything she might have missed when Lisa had opened the door. Lisa looked great, every bit the healthy mother-to-be in her maternity blouse and slacks.