Infinity(19)

In about thirty minutes, my life is going to change forever. Once Colin knows about the baby, he’s going to be even more neurotic than he usually is about me. There are going to be battles at every corner. He’ll probably fight me on running every morning, even though Doctor Starr said it was fine. His anxieties over my safety will go through the roof. Every bite of food that goes in my mouth will be scrutinized. Will he be afraid to make love to me? God, I hope not.

I don’t doubt that he’s going to shower me with attention and care, but it will be about the baby also. I let out a sigh, and place both hands over my pubic bone. Yes. I would give anything for just one more month not being pregnant, but with the future knowledge that we would conceive soon.

I have my first conversation with this kid. “Your daddy is going to drive Mommy crazy. You’ll probably hear some arguing, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t love each other. It just means that sometimes we love each other a little too loudly. Now, be a good baby, and don’t make me sick again. That’s the surest way possible to get Daddy riled up. We’ve got to be a team here,” I say, rubbing my hand over my lower abdomen. “And right now, you’re on my team. We’re calling ourselves Team Collins, but don’t tell Daddy.”

I make a note to talk to Doctor Benson, my therapist, about these out-of-control feelings. I know from all of my therapy that pregnancy is a big trigger for my disease. Submitting oneself to nature is very hard when control is my weapon of choice in the battle against my eating disorder.

Before my thoughts have fully played out, Pancho comes barreling into Colin’s closet, finding me and alerting Colin with a yelp. Oh no! Daddy’s home early. I scramble to pull myself together, and tuck the pictures into my bra that’s still feeling rather constrictive.

Colin comes sauntering into his closet seconds later, raising his eyebrow at finding me sitting on the carpeted floor. Fortunately, he changed shirts, so he doesn’t stink like that horrible cologne. He gives me his best “What the fuck?” look. I usually get this look when Brad and I’ve just come up with the best idea ever. “Any particular reason you’re sitting on the floor of my closet?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow.

“Nope.” I smile, looking up at him as Pancho lies down beside me, placing his head in my lap.

Colin toes off his brown-leather dress shoes first, and places them in the empty spot on his shoe rack. I hold my breath, hoping that he’ll notice my new addition to his closet, but his eyes pass right over them. Next, he slips off his navy slacks, revealing his bare bottom to me.

“Can you ever be troubled to put on underwear?”

He shimmies his behind. “You love it.” His voice is full of mirth.

He tosses the pants and cream linen button-up shirt in the dry-clean basket. I’m not sure why. He couldn’t have worn the new shirt but for a couple of hours. However, now’s not the proper time to question our dry cleaning bill.

Then, he saunters over to his drawer that he keeps his workout shorts in. If the baby shoes were snakes they’d have bitten him by now, but he still doesn’t notice.

Look down!

He slides on a pair of his brand of shorts, and tugs a black sleeveless T-shirt—also his brand—from the hanger.

I hold my breath as he joins me on the floor with a plop, tossing his shirt over his shoulder.

“You’re sure acting strange,” he says as he reaches toward his Nikes.

Time stands still. In mere seconds he’s going to know my secret. He’s going to know that our life is about to change in ways that we can’t even imagine. I hold my breath in anticipation and study his face, craving his reaction as he spots the tiny shoes. A chill drives down my spine, marking this moment.

I know exactly when he spot them. His face shifts from impassive to disbelief in nanoseconds. His head whips around. Eyes, as green as emeralds, blaze at me. His eyebrows meet his hairline as he opens his mouth and closes it, as if he’s a guppy. I watch him swallow and try to speak again.

I’m frozen as he leans forward, picking up the baby shoes, holding them in the palm of his hand. They both fit there perfectly. He marvels at them as if they’re precious jewels. Then he turns back to me with wet eyes. Wonderment fills his voice. “These are baby shoes.”

My face lights up, not needing to confirm the obvious. He turns back and stares at the shoes in his hand. I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down—hard. After a couple of heart beats, he whispers, “They go on a baby.”

I gently tease him as I scoot closer and rub my hand on his thigh, feeling his soft leg-hair tickle the tips of my fingers. His body heat is soothing, and an overwhelming feeling of peace washes over me. “I think they’re too small for me, and there aren’t enough of them for Pancho.” My voice is rich with humor and love.