Page 23 of All or Notching

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Page 23 of All or Notching

“Very.”

It’s like the twang of an elastic pulled taught and then let go. With no thought or instruction from my brain, my hips pump like they mean it.

I’m rutting on her like a bull in heat, and she’s smiling, her face flushed with emotion.

As my orgasm rushes forward and spills out into her welcoming depths, I know at that moment that something extraordinary has happened. I’m unsure how I will deal with it because I still have to finish my residency and decide on my specialty. My life plan will keep me away from this woman and our child.

I move my hand over her belly, feeling our unborn child stir inside her.

I’ve never felt this way before and never want to lose it.

I think I’m in love.

CHAPTER 9

Laurel

“How are you feeling?”

“Like an idiot.” I feel like we’ve been here before. I can’t believe Tristan ran out of the room like that, escaping like his ass was on fire and leaving me behind to burn. Why didn’t he tell me his father worked at the hospital? The range of emotions that passed over the older man’s face—confusion, shock, pride, happiness, and disappointment—broke my heart. Never mind that he looked like an older version of Tristan, the pain he showed discovering his own son had lied to him, even a lie by omission, hurt.

“Any more contractions?” Sally plumps the pillows behind my back and then lifts my feet onto the one she placed on the opposite end of my sofa.

“Nothing major. And now that I know they’re just pretend, I won’t be in such a hurry to get to the hospital the next time.”

“They’re not pretend, Laurel. They’re practice. You only have three weeks to go. Your body is getting ready. You need to be prepared, too.

“Well, this body needs a warm bath and a cup of tea.”

“I’ll make you some tea, you relax.” She passes me the TV remote. “Watch some television.”

She heads into the kitchen but calls back. “Have you heard from Tristan?”

I haven’t checked my phone. I don’t want to check my phone if he hasn’t called me. When I panicked, thinking I was going into labor, the first thing that went through my head was where’s Tristan? I need Tristan. When had he become so important?

Now, I don’t know what to think about his reaction. Why did he leave the way he did?

I’m glad his father went after him. But soon after they both left, another doctor told me I could leave. Everything was fine, and I should go home and rest.

The day had started great. I was feeling good, better than I have in weeks. No morning sickness, no fainting, no body aches. It could have been the multiple orgasms Tristan bestowed on me last night.

Since the night he knocked on my door, weeks after we’d been dancing around each other, not knowing what to say or do or how to act, it’s like we’ve been playing a different game. A game of husband and wife about to welcome their first child. He’d drop me off at the office most mornings and then go to work. Sally brought me home on the nights he had clinic hours and stuck around for dinner. On the nights it was just Tristan and me, we’d watch movies while he rubbed my feet, or we’d cook together, making a few meals to squirrel away for those first couple of weeks after the baby arrives.

We talked about the baby but not about any plans. It’s like neither of us wanted to think beyond the actual birth. Our nights were spent spooning in my bed or making love. He took such good care of me. He made me feel special.

This morning began like any of the others. Tristan kissed me goodbye and waited, watching until I stepped through the office building glass doors before pulling back into traffic. I met with a couple of clients and was in the middle of a phone call when I experienced my first cramp. Nothing more than a twinge, so I ignored it. But by early afternoon, they were happening more frequently, and some hurt. I tried to pass them off as nothing because it was too early for the baby to come, but I panicked when they wouldn’t stop.

All it took was a grimace of pain on my face and Sally had me packed up, and in her car on the way to the hospital. When we got there, my dear friend, frantic in her excitement and fright, yelled for Doctor Tessler.

A nurse noticed me holding my huge belly with one hand and leaped for a wheelchair. It didn’t take long before I found myself, once again, in a hospital gown on a hospital bed, with a blood pressure cuff squeezing my arm. All I could think about was the smell and sounds of a hospital. Machines were beeping, people were rushing here and there, and doctors were being paged through the intercom system.

The pains had stopped.

I was more than ready to go home.

Sally threatened to sit on me.

Finally, the nurse showed up, said Doctor Tessler was on his way and took my blood pressure.




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