Her Billionaires_ Boxed Set(122)

“Oh, my God! Josie! The baby. She’s moving!” Laura pressed her hand to her belly and felt it, a little kick or a somersault that made the uterus feel slick and weird inside, as if a pocket of gas spirited itself from one side of her hips to the other.

Fluttering. Nothing. A flimmer, like tiny swimming flippers inside her, moving slowly.

Josie sat down next to her and planted her hands on either side of Laura’s belly, frozen in place and staring at nothing, just anticipating. Then she shrieked, “I felt it!”, eyes wide and amazed. From a proud grin to tears, her face morphed into a mask of emotion, gasping and overcome.

“It’s real.” Her eyes met Laura’s and she flung her arms around Laura’s neck, the two separated by the baby.

“It’s been real for a while,” Laura cracked, her voice filled with emotion.

“Not for me. I’m not living it. This?” she said, touching Laura’s belly, palm flat against it, waiting. “This makes it real.” Grinning like a fool, Josie wouldn’t let up, her hands pressing to catch another movement.

Madge appeared with their coconut shrimp. She stared at their position. “Get a room, you two.” And off she went, speed walking.

Josie shouted, “That’s what got her in this condition in the first place!” and abandoned Laura’s belly. Coconut shrimp vs. feeling baby move? No contest, apparently.

And Laura had to agree. The shrimp was about as mouth orgasmic as you could get, and lately this was as orgasmic as she got. First trimester nausea had depressed her sex drive, but by week seventeen she’d emerged, scathed and emotionally battered by morning sickness, so grateful it retreated that she didn’t dare complain about anything else. Within weeks, though, the second trimester horndog impulse kicked in.

She needed to buy stock in Duracell. The baby’s college fund would go to batteries at this rate. There were moments she weakened and wanted to call Dylan and Mike just to fuck them and then send them home, needing the satiety of having these urges and constant arousal expunged, even for a few brief hours.

None of the pregnancy books warned her that she would be engorged twenty-four/seven, that she would want to be touched and manhandled and fucked and to come and come and come until drained, then bounce right back up and be ready for more, face flushed and tissues eager. Even in her late teens she’d never had a drive like this; if pregnancy turned her into the female equivalent of a sex-crazed eighteen-year-old boy by week nineteen, she was going to have a crater where her clit should be by the thirtieth week.

Or it would secede and go join one of the cat’s bodies, claiming sovereignty and a new pussy. Fucking anything that walked wasn’t what she wanted; most nights she spent an hour after masturbating thinking about Dylan and Mike, wondering how it had all gone so very wrong, and brooding over what she knew she needed to do.

And now? It really was time to tell them. Her fingers sought out the photos of the ultrasound, stuck carefully in the outer pocket of her purse. Josie was right—this was real. Reality meant being the stronger, better woman she had deep within and doing what was best for her daughter.

Her daughter deserved a dad who knew her.

Knowing this time to wait a few minutes before biting into the piping hot shrimp, Laura just sat and took a few deep breaths. The scene outside was a lovely November New England day, sunnier than usual and unseasonably warm. Thanksgiving was two weeks away and Christmas decorations were already in some shop windows. Her lightweight shirt had lasted since August, when she’d bought it. Soon it wouldn’t fit, and the weather would turn to snow, perfect ski weather.

Ah, Mike. She sighed. Half hoping last summer that come winter he’d teach her how to ski, her eyes filled with tears yet again for what was lost. Stupid to think of that when she was holding back the most important news the guys had ever had in their lives. She assumed. Maybe Jill’s death had been more important.

Both seemed pretty significant. What was she doing comparing them, anyhow? Ridiculous. Bottom line, though, was that after this meal she would go home, take a nap, and prepare to call them both tomorrow and face what she’d been putting off for three months.

“Mmmm,” Josie groaned as she munched on her coconut shrimp. Laura plucked one off the plate and took a bite, sinking her teeth in. Instant pleasure. The next ten minutes were a feeding frenzy as Madge brought out their sausage, foccacia, and the grand peanut butter cake.

“You eat more than a high school football team these days,” Josie said, incredulous, as Laura asked Madge for another plate of shrimp.

“I have the sex drive of a high school boy, so that’s not inappropriate.” Munch, munch.