Presently Perfect (Perfect #3) (47 page)

“Noah.”

“I got a Cuban feast.”

“Noah.”

“Sandwiches, fried plantain…”

“Noah.”

“And chocolate cake for dessert.”

“Noah!”

I turned to look at a blank-faced Tweet staring at me.

Shit! She was pissed.

I hauled my ass over to her, wrapping my arms around her waist.

Pressing my lips to the spot right under her ear, I whispered, “Happy anniversary, Tweet.”

She stood like a statue, her arms remaining down by her sides.

I straightened and rubbed my hands over her shoulders. “Don’t be mad, Tweet.”

She looked up at me, her eyes more glazed over than pissed. “What?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t wish you a happy anniversary before rattling off the menu.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, and then opened again. “Noah, I’m pregnant.”

“Come again,” I said, my head turned, bringing my ear closer to her mouth.

“I’m pregnant.”

Blinking several times, my mouth opened, then closed, and then opened. “What?”

“We’re going to have a baby.”

“You need to sit?”

Keeping my hands on her shoulders, I gently guided Tweet to the sofa. As she sunk down, I paced back and forth in front of her.

“Um… how did this… I mean, I know how it… The thing is, we double dipped with the protection,” I rambled.

“I don’t know. When I missed my period I didn’t think much of it at first. Since the chemo I’m not as regular as I used to be. I was feeling queasy in the morning and I’ve been so tired. I thought maybe I had the flu.”

The sound of a sob hit my ears, causing me to stop. I looked over at the sight of a trembling chin and tears streaking her cheeks.

“I didn’t really think I was pregnant when I took the test. I just wanted to rule it out.”

I knelt in front of her, wiping the tears away. “Don’t cry, Tweet. It’s going to be okay.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I know we didn’t expect this to happen.”

I wanted to have a life with Tweet that included everything. Once the shock wore off that everything would be coming in approximately nine months my heart filled with joy, excitement, fear, doubt, and then back to joy.

I leaned forward and kissed the corners of her mouth. “You’re gonna be an awesome mom.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Shocked but not upset.”

“Thank you.”

Tweet laced her fingers behind my neck and rested her forehead against mine. We stayed this way for several minutes, letting the news that we were going to be parents sink in.

“Hey, Tweet, we’re gonna have a babeee.”

Pushing her back against the sofa, I trailed kisses down her body, stopping at her stomach. Her fingers twirled in my hair. I lifted her shirt, brushing my lips over her skin, kissing it softly.

I glanced up into emotional teal eyes. “We have two things to celebrate. It’s a good thing I bought a bigger chocolate cake.”

Suddenly Tweet bolted upright, her hands flying to cover her mouth.

She shot off the sofa and rushed down the hall to the bathroom, yelling, “That cake makes me sick! Get rid of it!”

The day Tweet refused chocolate cake, the earth shifted on its axis, and life was about to be turned upside down.

Being as quiet as possible, I let myself into the condo. The class and lab I had tonight ran over. Tweet was in her sixteenth week of pregnancy and though her initial fatigue had subsided for the most part, she still had days that wore her out. I assumed Tweet was already sleeping when I texted her on my way home, but never got a response.

One great thing about working at the hospital was I got to come in contact with a lot of different people, staff as well as patients. It always confused me when I’d see a guy looking at his pregnant wife or girlfriend like she was the hottest thing in town. Once women hit a certain stage, it looked like they were smuggling watermelons in the hospital under their clothes, as they waddled down the hall. When Tweet began to show physical signs of the pregnancy, I realized then, when it was your girl, carrying your baby, there was nothing hotter. Tweet glowed with a new level of confidence in herself and her body.

I crept over to the desk that was now in the corner of the dining room, and gently laid down my backpack. We had moved everything out of the second bedroom, formally the home office, with plans of turning it into the nursery. We’d been looking at possible themes for the room. I had no idea there was an entire baby product subculture. The first-time Tweet told me we were going to the baby store, I pictured a warehouse full of babies. I figured it was a place where soon-to-be first time parents could go and practice things like changing diapers on real babies.

Since Tweet couldn’t decide whether or not she wanted to know the sex of the baby early, we had a mix of boy, girl, and non-gender-specific theme possibilities for the room. Square patches of painted on blues, pinks, yellows, and even five shades of gray dotted one wall. Progress was slow, but I was sure the baby would still come home with us even if his/her room was subpar.

As I approached my bedroom, flickers of light and the sound of Jason Wade’s voice singing “Everything” came from behind the cracked open door. Poking my head in, I spotted candles covering every flat surface, the sheet and comforter turned down, and Tweet sitting at the foot of the bed. I took a few seconds to soak her in. It was exciting to see the changes her body was undergoing. More curves, more slopes, more everything. Tweet had an effortless beauty. With barely any makeup on, her face glowed. Her hair was pulled to the side in a low ponytail. Wearing a long skirt with a brown, orange, and gold swirled pattern and a plain white shirt, she was out of this world breathtaking.

Her gaze swung to mine when I pushed the door open.

“Hey. I thought you were already sleeping when you didn’t respond to my text.” I smiled, walking toward her.

She stood to meet me. “I was just busy getting your surprise ready.”

Slight panic tinged my voice. “Surprise? It’s not my birthday, an anniversary, or holiday. It isn’t an anniversary or holiday… is it?”

“No, don’t worry. Can’t a girl do something special for her fella?” Her hands traveled over my stomach, up to my chest.

“Hell yeah, woman.”

Leaning down, I nipped at her lips before my tongue slid in. My fingers slipped under the bottom of her shirt. I felt pressure against my chest as Tweet pushed me back. Our lips disconnected, causing my hands to fall away.

“Not yet big guy. I want to give you the surprise first.”

“I thought you looking all hot was my surprise.”

Tweet narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying that it’s so rare I look hot, that it’s surprising when I do?”

Shit!

The thing about pregnancy hormones was that you never knew when they were going to swing into action. I hadn’t mastered the skill of being able to tell the difference between teasing Tweet and hormonal Tweet.

“No! I just… No!”

A sly sexy smile crawled across her face.

Teasing Tweet. Thank god.

Taking my hands in hers, she led me to the spot on the bed where she’d been sitting.

“Now, you stay here, keep your hands to yourself, and be a good boy.”

I did as I was told. She glided over to the stereo and turned up the volume. Our song surrounded the room. Without turning back to face me, she pulled the tie from her hair. Shaking the waves out, she let them fall down her back. Her hips gently swayed, keeping time with the slow part of the song. Glancing over her shoulder, Tweet threw me a wink accompanied by a sexy smirk. Slipping her thumbs into the waistband, she shimmied out of her skirt.

Fuck me! A private striptease.

A cough flew out of my mouth as I choked on the lump I was attempting to swallow.

Whipping her head around, Tweet said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… Fine,” I stammered through a few more coughs.

She stepped out of the skirt, grabbing it off the floor and balled it up. I tried to get an eyeful of panty, but her shirt was too long, impeding my effort. Tweet spun around, tossing the skirt at me. I let it smack me in the face and then fall in my lap. Drawing in a deep breath, I shifted, needing to readjust my situation.

Tweet’s hands teased the bottom edge of her shirt, slowly pushing button after button through its hole mate. Keeping the shirt securely covering her front, she held my gaze while her slow gyrating hips turned her back around. Little by little my grip tightened around the soft material of her skirt. Glancing down, it looked more like a twisted rope than a piece of clothing. Unclenching my fingers, I let it drop to the floor. I figured it had a better chance of survival down there than in my hands.

Raising my gaze, I was met by Tweet’s back, again. She extended her arms, opening the shirt up. Teasing me, she let it slip off one shoulder, quickly pulling it back on before I caught a glimpse of anything. As the tempo of the music picked up, Tweet lowered the shirt more, finally letting it slide completely off her shoulders, to reveal a pink lace bra. Hovering at the small of her back, the shirt still covered her cute rounder ass.

The music began to build, prompting Tweet’s ass to shake faster.
Inch-by-inch the material was lowered until it finally slipped from her arms, falling to the floor. There were many amazing wonders of the world, but none came close to Tweet’s ass in a pair of pink lace boy shorts.

As the song reached its frenetic end, Tweet’s booty was out of control, bouncing a la Cameron Diaz in
Charlie’s Angels
. Her ass shaking propelled her entire body around to face me. At first, my gaze was mesmerized by the bounce of her tits. Those had also gotten rounder. As she danced toward me, my gaze drifted down. My face scrunched up, a combination of squinting eyes squinting in dim light and confusion. When she was a foot away, my jaw went slack, and my eyes bugged out of their sockets. In big pink letters, written over Tweet’s baby bump were the words…

It’s A Girl!

I startled awake by the sound of my phone going off. My hand slid across the nightstand in search of it, the ringing blaring in my ears. I didn’t bother looking at the screen to see who it was before I answered. The bottom dropped out of my stomach the second Gayle, Dr. Lang’s receptionist, identified herself. I don’t know why that was my immediate reaction. She could have been calling because we were late for Tweet’s six-month appointment that was today. My body twisted toward Tweet’s side of the bed. Empty. I glanced at the clock and then at the dresser, where she always kept her purse. Gone. She went to her appointment without me. Dammit. Gayle told me I needed to get to the doctor’s office as soon as possible.

“There are a couple of suspicious spots on your chest x-ray. The bloodwork indicates that the cancer is back.”

The cancer is back.

The cancer is back.

The fucking cancer is back.

Tweet and I sat side-by-side in front of Dr. Lang’s desk, staring straight ahead. Our only reaction to the news was the squeezing of each other’s hands.

“I recommend the same chemotherapy as before.” He paused. “I’m sorry,” Dr. Lang said.

Tweet had finally relaxed a little about these appointments. This was the first one in more than three years that she wasn’t nervous about.

“Your treatments can be at The Hollings Center like before and…”

“I’m pregnant,” Tweet blurted out.

Looking between the two of us, I could tell by his expression that Dr. Lang already knew.

“Yes, I realize that.” He exhaled a deep breath. “I know the recurrence is unexpected. You’re still early into the pregnancy.”

Tweet and I glanced at each other, not understanding what he was suggesting. When the love of your life gets told she has cancer, it’s almost impossible to comprehend anything that is said to you right after the news.

“She’s in her sixteenth week,” I said dazed and numb.

With his eyes downcast, the doctor said, “It’s a few weeks shy of being considered late term, but you’re both young and still have plenty of time to start a family.”