18. Tabby

EIGHTEEN

TABBY

I sank into the couch cushions, letting out a long sigh as I rubbed my swollen belly. I was at the end of the second trimester and really starting to show now, getting bigger by the day.

I had a few weeks until finals and then a few weeks until the due date at the end of July.

It had been an exhausting couple of months. I hated to admit Nate was right, but juggling classes, work, and growing a human inside me was exhausting. Pregnancy brain kicked my ass hardcore, and I was ready to be done with school. About ready to be done with Walt’s too.

Although, I was definitely not ready for the baby to come.

I still had so much to do. I signed up for the prenatal classes at the hospital that my OB-GYN recommended, which were every Saturday morning and sort of helpful. It was nice to get a tour of the maternity wing and to set our expectations for when the time came, but some of the postnatal information was downright anxiety-inducing. Nate, of course, attended them with me, all the while grumbling about how he “knew this stuff already.”

I appreciated how much research he’d done, but he wasn’t the one who had to think about putting a pad doused with water and witch hazel in the freezer for his fucked-up vagina.

Women had been giving birth for centuries, and yet we hadn’t been able to come up with any better medical remedies for birth injuries except for ice packs and ibuprofen? Atrocious.

Though, Nate did get very excited about possibly rubbing olive oil on my perineum.

The woman leading the class was great, but her hippie-dippie manifestation and olive oil tricks weren’t going to save me from being torn in two. Because I did the thing I wasn’t supposed to and watched videos.

But I had Nate through all of it. The man bent over backward to take care of me and made sure I didn’t overexert myself. Whether it was cooking my new weird pregnancy-craving foods—onion rings with spicy mayo—at two a.m. or giving me foot rubs after long days, he was always there.

And now he threw himself into nesting. Even on days when he pulled double duty between Walt’s and his new space, he spent all his free time converting the spare room upstairs into a nursery. I told him he didn’t have to go to so much trouble, that the baby would be sleeping in our room at first anyway. But he insisted on getting everything all set up. He had even gone so far as to buy all the things we wouldn’t need until the baby could start moving: outlet covers, gates, cabinet locks, and those little cushions for hard edges.

This baby would want for nothing.

Between Nate’s late-night online shopping habits and his mother, we already had a million boxes and packages lining the office. Shannon—whom I still couldn’t call “Mom,” even though she insisted—had very kindly offered to host a baby shower for me, which I declined. I didn’t have close friends or anyone I wanted to invite, so Genevieve had the idea that we have a girls’ night with her friends, Kennedy and Brooke, who were with Liam and Jude, and they could bring a few small things for the baby. That seemed much more reasonable to me and something I would actually enjoy.

While this pregnancy was unplanned and a complete surprise, it was not unwelcome, and even though I still held a lot of anxiety about carrying to term, I didn’t worry about not having enough support.

I had more than enough in Nate.

My wish had come true.

I had more than I needed.

I could be a glutton.

Greedy.

Hoard him all to myself. Keep all his soft, whispered words to myself. Each time he called me princess. Every evening when he kissed my shoulder and said, “Good night, beautiful.” Every morning when he made me breakfast and then made me come.

He was truly written by a woman.

And he was all mine.

Especially when he trudged down the stairs with paint smeared on his jeans, forearms, and shoulder, his T-shirt nowhere in sight. He smiled at me, still in the same position he’d left me in—sprawled out on the couch with my textbook and laptop open, supposedly studying.

“How we doing down here?” he asked, crouching in front of me to lift my shirt, kissing the curve of my belly. “Frogger.”

I brushed my fingers over his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “We’re good. Though someone has been extra active this morning.”

“Yeah?” Nate kept one hand resting on my bump, idly stroking his thumb back and forth. “Maybe they’re bored. Wanna come out and play?”

“Not yet. We’re not ready.”

He hummed quietly. “Room’s almost finished.”

“Yeah?” I pushed myself up from my reclining position.

“I just came down for a drink. I should be finished up in about an hour or so.”

“Guess that means we’ll have to make a decision on the furniture.”

“Speaking of…” He took a breath. “I got a text from Summer.”

“As in, your dad’s wife?”

He nodded. “They want to buy us something.”

“That’s nice.”

He didn’t reply, and I didn’t ever want to discount his feelings, because everyone had their own shit to work through. Nate had every right to be hurt and angry, but he was always so suspicious. And not to say anyone’s trauma was better or worse than anyone else’s, but it seemed like he didn’t want to accept or believe anything positive about his father.

I’d never met his dad, yet I didn’t think he meant to hurt Nate. In my very uneducated opinion, it appeared as if there was simply a major lack of communication.

Funny, I knew, coming from me, the girl completely inept at verbalizing any kind of emotion.

“I’m sure it was all Summer’s idea,” Nate said eventually, and I shrugged.

“Maybe. But it’s still really nice of them.”

Again, he stayed quiet. Only bent to kiss my forehead. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished.” Then he stood, drifting his fingertips over my shoulder. “Need anything from the kitchen?”

I shook my head, but he took my water bottle anyway, returning a few minutes later with it full and a cheese stick. I murmured my thanks as he made his way upstairs, his back to me, arm up as he chugged down water, the muscles of his back on display, marks from my fingernails still there. I bit into my bottom lip, remembering yesterday morning, how he’d edged me so hard I completely lost it when he finally let me come.

The bastard deserved those marks.

But he loved them. Joked about getting them tattooed on.

Smiling to myself, I attempted to focus on my schoolwork, but I barely lasted twenty minutes before I set my textbook aside. My mind kept wandering to what Nate had said about his dad and Summer wanting to buy something for the baby.

I picked up my phone and texted Genevieve.

Nate told me your dad and stepmom want to buy something for the baby. Not sure how I feel about it since Nate is so weird. What do you think we should do?

A few minutes later, she replied.

Gen

Of course he’s weird about it, and of course they want to get something. Or at least, Summer does.

That’s what Nate said. That it was probably her idea.

Gen

Oh, it definitely was. Summer is really sweet and keeps my dad from being a complete robot.

Gen

Just because Nate feels weird about it, you shouldn’t. The very least our father can do is buy something. And they have the money to get you something nice, so I think you should let them buy you the biggest item on your list.

Gen

Look at this.

I clicked on the link she sent me for an expensive luxury stroller, all-terrain and fully loaded with features. Definitely not something I would have picked out or could afford, but Gen had a point. Their dad had the means, and if they were offering, there was no reason we shouldn’t accept a gift from them. It would be their grandchild, after all.

I found a much more affordable stroller, one without all the bells and whistles but that could easily fold up with one hand, according to the description, and all the reviews were great. I sent Gen the link for that one instead, and she replied with a thumbs-up and another message.

Gen

FYI, Summer will most likely try to win you over with hugs and other little gifts. You don’t have anything to worry about with her. The tension comes from how awkward our dad is and how very clearly our childhood differed from how our half-siblings’ childhoods are currently. Don’t overthink it. Ask for whatever you want. Summer is more than happy to provide it for you.

Feeling better about the situation, I set my phone aside and worked for another fifteen minutes before I heard Nate’s footsteps plodding back down the stairs.

“Hey,” he said. “You wanna come check it out?”

“Sure.” I let him help pull me up from the couch, given that my stomach muscles were on their way to becoming completely nonexistent since all the pregnancy workouts I followed were about strengthening the pelvic floor. He held my hand to usher me upstairs to the nursery.

I gasped when I saw it, the walls painted a pale green with the cutest little woodland creature decals scattered around. The molding was bright white and apparently still wet since he made sure I didn’t touch it as I slid my fingers along the wall.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “You did an amazing job.”

He smiled, clearly proud of his work. “Yeah, I thought it would make a nice little room for Frogger. And you were right, this color is perfect. Better than the darker one I wanted.” He pulled my back to his front, banding one arm across my shoulders as he gestured to different places around the room. “I figure the crib will go along this wall, and we can put the glider over there. I’m not sure where the changing table should go, though, and I was thinking maybe we should get two since Frog’ll be sleeping in the bassinet. Do we really want to be carrying them down here at three a.m.? So, maybe we should just get two.”

I shook my head in amusement. When in doubt, Nate’s first instinct was to overestimate.

Spinning to face him, I placed my hands over his chest. “I think we’ll be okay with one.”

“Are you sure? ’Cause?—”

“One, Nate.” I pressed my finger to his lips when he tried to argue again. “We’ll be okay with one.”

He sighed, pulling me closer so I would rest my head against his heart, and I’d grown accustomed to the tickle of his chest hair. “Sometimes I lie awake at night imagining you in here, rocking the baby to sleep, singing with that pretty voice of yours.” He cradled my head with one hand, the other sneaking under my T-shirt to slide his fingers up and down my back. “You’re going to be an incredible mom.”

My heart swelled at his words. I never imagined I’d be embarking on motherhood with a man like Nate by my side. Someone who loved and supported me so completely.

“I can’t wait to see it for real,” he said softly. “Our little family.”

I didn’t do a very good job of surreptitiously wiping at my tears—never-ending with these hormones!—and he kissed the top of my head, dragging his knuckles over my cheek.

Family .

Nate was my family now.

And in a few more weeks, we would become three.

I couldn’t wait.