Say Forever(49)

Andrés stares at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. My mom is my problem. I'm too ashamed to bring up the baby again, but he should know about his aunt. If anyone can get her off my back, he can.

I sit up and straighten my shoulders. "Tia says I can't paint flowers on my gown. It makes me look soiled," I emphasize the "soiled" part with as much venom as I can muster. "She's forcing me to have four bridesmaids. Marie doesn't even like me. Why would she want to be in our wedding? And now Karri... ."

"Druggie Karri?" he interrupts.

I let out a slow and shaky breath. "Yeah, only I don't think she was on drugs today."

Andrés's shoulders stiffen. "I don't care. She is not going to be in our wedding. I'll talk to Tia tomorrow, mija, okay?"

Relief floods through me as I nod.

Andrés strokes my cheek again as the clouds in his eyes disperse. "So one bridesmaid and flowers on your gown, right?"

"Yes."

Andrés clasps my hands, and his thumb comes to rest on my ring finger. He strokes that diamond and emerald band with tenderness.

"So if I change it back, will you want to marry me?" The veins in his neck strain as he clenches his jaw. His voice drops to a shaky whisper. "Will you want to have our baby?"

The longing reflecting in his gaze is more than I can bear. I throw my arms around him and sob against his chest. "I'm sorry, Andrés. I'm just feeling overwhelmed."

He sits beside me and pulls me into his lap. "Shhh, mija," his says in a heated breath against my ear. "It's going to be okay."

But the more he tries to soothe me, the more the tears fall, and I'm not sure how I can stop up this dam of sorrow. I want to believe him, so very badly, but none of us acknowledge the words I left unspoken. Do I want to marry him? Deep in my heart I know I do, although I was hoping we could wait until this spring or even next year. But we can't. All because I'm pregnant, and though I loathe myself for feeling this way, I can no longer deny the surge of bitterness that has created a chasm in my heart. I do not want this baby.


***


After I cry my heart out for what feels like an eternity, Andrés fixes me a steaming bubble bath. He later dresses me in an oversized T-shirt, and we eat pizza on the sofa in unnerving silence. I can tell Andrés has a lot on his mind, and I'm afraid I may have said too much.

Does he resent me now for admitting I don't want his child?

Instinctively, I lift my T-shirt and settle my hand over my abdomen. The muscles there are still taut from all the sit-ups I do with Andrés almost every morning. I find it hard to believe a child is growing in there. I rub my fingers across the smooth surface, wondering what the baby is doing. Is it digesting the food I ate today? Maybe sleeping? Does it have a heartbeat yet? Can it feel me touching my stomach?

This whole pregnancy thing seems so surreal. Other than a little bit of morning sickness and swollen ankles (which have thankfully returned to normal size), there's not much evidence I'm growing a person. Hard to believe something so small is uprooting our lives in such a big way.

Andrés clears his throat, and I look up to see him staring intently at me. He sets our plates on the coffee table and scoots closer. He settles his hand over my abdomen, too. I'm surprised at how warm it is. Even though I took a hot bath, I'm chilled. I shiver and lean closer to him as he wraps his arm around me, his other hand still cradling my abdomen. I sigh into him, nuzzling his neck. He plants a feather-soft kiss on my forehead, and then another, and another. He kisses my brow, my eyes, the bridge of my nose. I gasp as his hand drifts down my abdomen and dips beneath the elastic of my panties.

I arch my head back, and Andrés kisses my neck as he lowers us onto the sofa. He deftly slides off my panties and cups my pelvis in his hand, dipping his finger into me and circling my clit with moisture. I groan as a wave of pleasure washes over me. I pull him down for a kiss. He tastes like tomatoes and beer, and something more. He tastes like mine. All mine. This man who is kissing me, fingering me, is my fiancé, my future, and I love him with all my heart. Renewed hope surges through me, and I think that as long as Andrés loves me, we will find a way to work it out. We must.

The tempo of Andrés's finger matches the urgency welling inside me. I love him. We must find a way to work it out. I can't live without him. "Please, baby," I cry against his mouth. "Please love me."

"I do love you, mija." He groans as he grinds his finger deeper into me. "Forever."

"Make love to me," I beg. "Please."

I cry out as he pulls his finger out. He jerks off his pants and throws them to the floor before he settles between my legs. He pulls my shirt over my head and I arch, wrapping my ankles around his waist, needing him inside me. Wholly. Fully. Mine.