Noah grabs lacy leggings and another frilly dress. “You know more than me.”
“I look a lot up online. I have two baby apps on my phone and read books and magazines. You could read them too.”
He makes a face then stops himself. “Okay. I’ll start with the magazines. Less boring than books.”
“Books aren’t boring. I read at least one book a week.” Or I did before I started going to bed at grandmother hours.
“I don’t like reading.”
“That’s sad. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Nothing, I’m missing nothing.”
“When was the last time you read a book?”
“For fun?” His blue eyes widen. “I don’t know.”
I’m reminded of how different we are. But opposites attract, right?
“Want to get lunch?” Noah asks me as he looks through another rack of newborn clothing. He’s considering each teeny outfit he picks up, and it might be melting my heart.
“Yeah. I’ve been craving hot dogs all day.”
We go to the registers, and Noah pays for everything before I even have time to dig into my purse and find my wallet. We get lunch, go back to my place, and Noah joins me for a walk around the block with the dogs. He says he has work to do and regretfully leaves. The goodbye takes ten minutes and involves lots of kissing and touching.
Once he’s gone, I look at the baby stuff we bought. Are we going to have to buy two of everything? One for here and one for his house? Or do you pack up what you need and bring it with?
The logistics of this whole “having a baby and not being a couple” thing make my head hurt. Maybe for the first month or two, she can just stay here since she’ll be so little and I’ll be—dammit, Noah. You got me calling the baby “she.”
I smile and look down at my stomach. Now that I’ve eaten, a small bump is definitely visible. I might not look pregnant to strangers, but anyone who knows me would know something is up. Is it weird I kind of like it?
My mind flashes to something Noah said a few weeks ago, about having sex with a baby belly. I know it’s entirely possible to keep hooking up throughout the whole nine months, buthowcan we keep doing it? Positions seem pretty limited.
I go into the kitchen and grab a bag of chocolate chips, then get my laptop and come back into the living room, shooing the dogs away from my chocolate as I Google “sex positions during pregnancy.” I click on a site that includes photos, expecting them to be clothed couples or even drawings.
I’m not expecting porn.
And yet I don’t click away. I look through the pictures, for research purposes, of course. I go to another site and find videos. The videos are just previews—I’m not paying for anything—and another two-minute clip starts as soon as one ends. I sit back, curious mostly, and watch. It’s totally possible to have sex throughout pregnancy. And enjoy it too, by the sounds of the moaning and groaning. I bite my lip, considering calling Noah over to try some of these out. Practice makes perfect, right? I’m not that big yet. Better to try this out now.
The next video clip that plays showcases breastfeeding fetishes. I wrinkle my nose. “Sick.” I go to click away when the doorbell rings, causing the dogs to rush into the foyer barking.
“Hey, Lauren!” my sister calls, stepping inside. “We were in town and thought we’d stop by and say hi.”
“Hey!” I call back and get up to grab the dogs.
Soft moaning comes from the living room, followed by a woman’s voice saying, “I’m so full for you, baby. Drink up. It’s all for you, baby.”
Oh shit. The computer.
“Uh, is this a bad time?” Katie asks, green eyes going wide the same time as her nose wrinkles in disgust. “You weren’t masturbating or anything, were you? We can leave.”
“No!” I exclaim, horribly embarrassed. “It’s not what you think.”
Katie can’t look at me. “Yeah, explain that please. But first turn whatever the hell you’re watching off.”
My cheeks are burning red as I slam my laptop shut. Now Katie and Jenny are laughing as they wait for me to explain.
“I was doing research.”