Page 98 of Size King

“I’m surprised we haven’t fallen back asleep yet,” I say while looking at the time.

“I’m not.”

“I love you, Jillian.”

“I love you too, Mason.”

Epilogue

Jillian

Nine Months Later. Conceiving a child is something many women experience at some point in their lives, and it’s something that everyone knows and understands. Describing the delivery is both easy to do and yet so difficult.

When I give birth to my child, I am joined by the father of my child, who never leaves my side. He holds my hand, listens to me scream and curse for twenty hours, and he never breaks. He is my man and never falters, no matter what awful things I say to him. Of course, once the baby comes out, nothing else matters.

He looks exactly like his father. He has my eyes and likely will get my height, but everything else is Mason. This boy is going to get all the girls looking at him once he grows up.

I hate being away from him for any amount of time. The moment I am able to see him, I hold onto him and don’t let him go until we get to the house. Even when I put him down in his crib, or put him in his high chair, I always keep in close proximity to him. The only boy I’m more in love with than Mason is our son.

Mason doesn’t tell his dad that I’m pregnant or that I’ve given birth. To my knowledge, they never even spoke during the entire nine months of my pregnancy. I let my family know that I was pregnant once I began my second trimester. I had dinner with them once, shortly before I gave birth. I wasn’t sure how much involvement with my baby I wanted to give my parents.

I go back to see my doctor once I hit six weeks postpartum. I want a checkup to make sure that I am indeed handling things well, and it isn’t all in my head. Most people recommend going back to the doctor well before six weeks, but I feel confident during the early stages that I am doing well. I am more concerned with getting my new child to a doctor before I worry about me.

I arrive for my 10:30 appointment, am examined, cleared, and sent on my way. I ask my questions—that I indeed already know the answer to, thankfully—and am able to get some ideal medications for the baby and myself.

One of the medications I get for myself is birth control. Since I have given birth, Mason and I haven’t had sex. We aren’t going to tempt fate again and have sex with a condom, no matter how tested and great they are, and no matter how horny we get. We take care of each other in many other ways during our abstinence period, but we are craving a good fuck like we are starved. Fortunately, we always supply each other with plenty to feast on in the meantime.

I start on the pill about a week after I give birth. And so, with a month having passed, and a three months’ supply of birth control, I am finally ready and able to have sex again. Plus, I am almost back to my ideal weight, and I am excited to show off my progress to Mason.

As I drive from the doctor’s office back to the house, I think about the weeks ahead and how I am going to hate being away from my man and my son. I start back at K-Plus soon, and I will be returning to my routine during my maternity gigs.

During periods when I have brief shoots in L.A., I stay with Emma at her place rather than drive for three hours each day. I alternate between Mason’s house and Emma’s apartment—I primarily stay with Mason, but I do have a room and bathroom at Emma’s place, too, with many of my belongings scattered around the apartment. I expect to work about three full days a week, so it stands to reason that my old methods are likely to be practiced again regularly.

I get home and am happy to see Mason’s car in the driveway. He had a business meeting earlier and was looking into some buildings in town to potentially buy and renovate into his dream café. Mason had the baby for the day. The meetings weren’t going to last long, and he wanted to take him out to look at buildings with him. He feels like having his son there with him will help keep him honest and making good decisions.

I walk into the house and am hit by a cloud of exquisite aromas. Mason is cooking in the kitchen, still in his business attire, sleeves rolled up and looking sexy.

“Honey, I’m home!” I call out.

“Excellent!” he says with a thumbs-up. “Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes!”

I walk into the kitchen, trying to stay out of his way while he moves around from spot to spot. I look at the kitchen table and se my baby boy in his bouncy seat. He stares up at me with his gorgeous green eyes.

“Hi, handsome!” I say in my baby voice. “Hi, handsome boy!”

He smiles at me with his adorable toothless face, squinting his eyes and cooing. I kiss him all over his cute little head, barely leaving any part of him uncovered.

“I’m just gonna eat you up,” I say. “Yes, I am!”

“Please don’t!” Mason says. “Food’s almost done—eat that instead.”

“I am kidding!”

I pick up my little angel, holding him and squeezing him. I’ve missed him dearly, even though I’ve only been gone for a few hours.

“I missed you, little Mason,” I whisper to my son.

Yes, we named our son after his dad. At first, his dad protested that choice—he said our son would grow up to resent being named after him and not given a new and special name. He also claimed that he didn’t like his name.