Shatter (True Believers #4)(38)
Author: Erin McCarthy

I actually believed him. “You know what else I would enjoy?”

“I would enjoy that, too, trust me, but I need a couple more minutes, babe.”

Oops. Too bad that wasn’t what I was talking about. “I was actually going to say I would like some ice cream.”

“What?” He patted my butt. “And here I thought you were as hot for me as I am for you.”

“I am! But I’m hungry. I can’t help it. Today I actually ate half of a bagel and half a cupcake, and didn’t feel sick. Now for some reason, my stomach is growling and I really, really want ice cream.”

“You’re the birthday girl. Ice cream it is.” Jonathon pulled his phone off the nightstand and squinted at it. “It’s only eight. There should be an ice cream place open still. Unless you want a pickle to go with it. Then we can just go to the grocery store.”

“I don’t want a pickle.” I peeled myself off his chest, shivering a little as the cool air hit my br**sts. “Ick.”

“I thought that was de rigueur for pregnant women.”

“I don’t know what de rigueur even means but pickles are like slimy cucumbers. Gross.”

“They are pickled cucumbers.”

“Well, I know that. I just mean . . . never mind. The thought of pickles is icking me out.”

“We definitely don’t want to ick you out.”

Yawning, I found my bra wedged under Jonathon’s hip and I yanked it out. “I think I need new bras.” Stuffing my boobs back in was like forcing cats into a carrier—they just didn’t want to go.

“I would agree. You look like you’re about to sever all your circulation.” Jonathon was on his back pulling his briefs and his jeans up his legs. “Like I said, use the gift card from your mom for that.”

“How exciting. Bra shopping for my birthday. Yay, me. And why are my boobs getting so big anyway? It’s not like I’m lactating yet. It seems unnecessary. And, ew, did I just say lactating? That is a gross word.”

“Lactating is slightly mammalian sounding, I will admit. As to why they are swelling, that I don’t know. But I’m not going to complain.”

“You don’t have to carry them around.” I wiggled into my panties.

“I can if you want me to. I’ll just hold them whenever you’re tired of relying on your bra.”

I laughed. “Weirdo.”

“My secret is out.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and sat up, reaching for his shirt.

The room was dim, like it always was, but I could still see all the lines of his body. His hoodies and plaid shirts hid a lean but muscular body. I liked seeing him naked, butt tight, tattoo sleeve so intricate and black against his light skin. He had slight olive undertones to his skin, but he was fair, and his little beard scruff on his chin grew quickly, a stubbly shock of caramel-colored hair. I didn’t know if he was bullshitting me about the whole sexual-anticipation-causing-his-hair-to-grow thing, but I did know that it was soft and I liked the way it tickled my thighs when he was down there.

When I stood up and went to the bathroom before getting dressed, I felt him watching me, too. A glance back showed his stare was appreciative. I felt sexy again, for him, and I blew him a kiss before retreating into the bathroom.

But in a minute my contentment evaporated when I saw there was blood on the toilet paper. It wasn’t a lot, just some spotting, but it was enough to shock me. Pulling my panties back up I threw open the door and called to him. “Jonathon, I’m spotting. Oh my God.”

My heart was racing, my palms clammy. He looked instantly alarmed but then he stood up and came over to me, his voice reassuring. “Spotting is normal in the first trimester. It’s okay. It’s not heavy, is it? It’s not like a period?”

“No. It was just a pinkish smear.”

“That could be from sex even, from your cervix being bumped.”

I knew he was right. Sometimes I spotted after a pap but it still scared the shit out of me. I let him hug me, burying my head into his shirt he’d put back on. “Are you sure?”

“What, that I might bump your cervix? Well, I don’t mean to brag but . . .”

I smacked his chest. “I’m being serious.”

“I am, too. Look.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started typing one-handed. A few seconds later, he read off his screen. “‘Bleeding during pregnancy is common, especially during the first trimester, and usually it’s no cause for alarm. About 20 percent of women experience some bleeding in the first twelve weeks of pregnancy.’”

My shoulder relaxed slightly. “Where are you reading that?”

“The Mayo Clinic. I think we can trust them.”

I stared up at him, my chin still on his chest. “Everything is okay, right?”

“Absolutely. Now let’s go get some ice cream. Though you probably need to put on some clothes first. It is almost February.” He tilted my chin up with his index finger and gave me a kiss.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. Funny how five weeks ago I had been panicked at the thought of being pregnant, now I was panicked at the thought of not being pregnant. Pulling on my clothes, I tried to put it out of my head. It was nothing. Jonathon was right. It was my birthday and we were getting ice cream.

As we stepped outside, it was lightly snowing and Jonathon stuck out his elbow for me to hook my arm through. The air was still, the night quiet. I blinked as the snow softly dropped onto my eyelashes, and the cold filled my lungs and made me feel clean, alive. I was glad to be having my first trimester during winter. The thought of that sour stomach during the heat of July was horrifying. The crisp air always seemed to help calm my icky stomach.

Jonathon let go of me for a minute to slide across the snowy sidewalk, surfer style. I laughed. “You’re going to fall.”

“Nah.” He did it again, his arms flailing as he momentarily lost his balance.

“So how do you get all those muscles?” I asked him. “Are you a secret gym fan? Are you really pumping iron when you say you’re in the lab?”

“Pumping some Fe, you mean?” He gave me a grin as he stopped and waited for me, reaching for my hand.

“Seriously?” I laughed. “Not that I can say anything because I think I started the stupid chemistry jokes.”

“I think you did. But no, I don’t spend hours in the gym. I work for a moving company on Saturdays and Wednesdays. Hauling boxes and furniture keeps me in decent shape. How about you?” He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “You have some amazing thigh strength.”