Page 81 of Full Out Fiend
“I want to put at least two more babies in you. Maybe three.” He licks down my stomach, obviously turned on by the idea.
My insides twist at the very thought.
“Slow down, Nick Cannon. Let’s see how we handle one before we commit to creating our own soccer team. We haven’t even figured out how to take care of this baby once she’s born,” I remind him.
I shimmy up the bed and pull the duvet up to my neck. I really do have to get ready. And suddenly sexy time doesn’t feel quite so sexy.
“I have some ideas about that,” he offers, undeterred by my sudden retreat. He joins me with his back to the headboard and turns to give me one of those megawatt smiles I’m a sucker for.
“Oh do you?” I challenge.
“I do.” His expression falls as he takes my hand. “I know we haven’t really talked about what’ll happen once she’s here, but I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
This is news to me.
“I assume you still want to work?”
There’s no inflection to his tone—no indication as to whether he has an opinion about my career or what I should give up when our daughter is born. Anthony was always adamant he wanted me to be a stay-at-home mom, like his mother. It was a point of contention between us, so we just kept tabling the issue.
“I do,” I confirm, tentatively.
“I figured. What if I switched to a lighter course load and took night classes during the spring semester? Then I could be home to take care of her. Winnie”—he grins—“during the day while you’re at work.”
The way he says her name melts my heart.
“You would do that?”
He furrows his brow as he considers me. “Of course I would. I’m not giving up on med school, but I’m in no rush. We don’t need the money. My grades are solid, and I’ve got more flexibility now while I’m only taking classes and labs. Let’s try it. If the schedule works for us, I’ll take classes in the summer, too, so I can keep up with my cohort.”
This is the most disarming thing about Fielding. Big picture, life-changing decisions are just—easy. I don’t have to overthink things. I don’t have to make my case or steel myself for an argument. I hadn’t brought up the issue of childcare because I honestly figured it was my problem to solve. That he’s come up with a solution and that he views each of our careers so equitably—it’s unexpected. And so deeply appreciated.
“Thank you,” I murmur, leaning into his side as he wraps one arm around me. The ease he brings to every situation washes over me yet again. I can breathe deeper and trust harder than ever before.
“Having you home with her during the day will make everything so much easier. Maybe my mom could watch her one night a week so I could still take evening appointments,” I consider out loud.
“At our house,” he asserts, squeezing my shoulder and giving me a pointed look.
Things are better with my mom. Cordial and sometimes even pleasant. She’s come over twice, and we text on a regular basis. I haven’t had the courage to ask her, but I get the distinct impression that my father isnotprivy to our reconciliation.
It hurts my heart. But it gives me more context for our relationship. There are countless things my mom has done or said over the years that just—hurt. But Fielding’s showdown dinner most definitely struck a nerve, because I can tell that she’s making an effort to be in my life.
“Agreed.”
Fielding pulls me closer and kisses my hair before adding, “I trust your judgment, angel. I want your family to be in her life as long as they respect both my girls.”
His words wrap around me, filling the cracks chiseled out by years of gaslighting. It’s hard to fathom that something as small as him talking about “both his girls” can feel so significant to my heart. I can’t help but marvel at how whole, cared for, and loved I feel in his arms.
Chapter 44
Fielding
10 Weeks Later
ThelastthingIwant to do is drag my ass out of this bed and go to The Oak tonight. It feels like I was just there. But it’s been a few months according to all the nagging I’ve been dealing with the in the group text.
It’s Anwar’s birthday—the big three-oh—and the guys are threatening to show up at my house instead of the bar if I don’t make an appearance.
It’s not that I don’t want to see my friends. But so much has changed. The guys I used to work and live with assume everything is status quo: different day, same shit. That I’m the same as I’ve always been.