Chapter Six
As they rode the elevators down to the main entrance, Josie’s mind flipped through three thousand one hundred and twenty-two scenarios, most of them involving being pinned to the side of the elevator wall.
Damn Grey’s Anatomy for putting these ideas in her head. Ever since that show had come on, every hospital had a running joke about doctors and nurses having sex in elevators—and here they were, completely alone, riding down four flights. The half-smirk on his face as they stared straight ahead made her wonder what Alex was thinking right now.
The nearest coffee shop was a good five blocks away, and Alex turned toward it, which told Josie that this was going to be no simple, short stroll around the hospital grounds, but more like a…date.
Date? The word seemed too formal, as if she were ascribing something to this interaction that gave it more meaning than it really had. He walked slowly, and she was grateful; his long legs could have taken strides that made her walk as quickly as an officious little child. He didn’t seem bothered by having to walk slower. That relaxed, casual nature made him comfortable with whatever situation he found himself in. His outfit was pleasant and the way that his pants hung on his hips and cupped his ass was much more appealing to look at than even the flowering dogwoods that lined many of the homes they walked past.
From all appearances, Alex shared none of the melodrama she was experiencing in every cell of her body. Damn him. His face was open, tipped slightly up, as if soaking in the rays. A beautiful May day like this in the Boston area was not unheard of, but it was certainly rare. She was happy to be outside with a light breeze blowing through her hair, strolling with someone who represented a new beginning. Giving herself that one concession of hope allowed her shoulders to lower, her body willed to relax by her mind.
They walked pleasantly without any tension between them, despite the tension within her, for about half a block, when he turned to her and smiled down, asking, “Do you know this area?”
“Only from picking up shifts here. I know we’re headed toward the center of town, where we’ll find restaurants and coffee shops.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I was thinking about going to the little one.”
“Anyplace but Jeddy’s,” she said, and he laughed.
“You’ve been there?” he asked.
“Who hasn’t been there?” she responded quickly.
He shrugged. “That’s true. Heck, even my grandpa’s been there.”
“Really? That doesn’t surprise me. I think that place has been around since before your grandfather’s father.”
“Well, I don’t think he went there, because he was in Armenia. Lived there his whole life.”
“You’re one of the many Watertown Armenians.”
“My name should have given it away,” he answered.
“Anything that ends with -ian, right?” She laughed. “I come from Ohio, so I had to learn when I moved here. Mendham isn’t exactly unusual.”
“No, I’d imagine it’s not. English?”
She nodded. “I guess so, I don’t know. Nobody from my family came from anywhere as far as I’m concerned. We don’t exactly have in-depth genealogists running around in my branch of the family tree.”
He paused and frowned—a look of curiosity, not of upset. “What do you mean?”
“I’m the first one…to get away,” she said. “I was about to say I was the first one to go to college, but that’s not true. My father had a master’s degree. But even he never left central Ohio. My whole family is from there, and is still there. My mom’s back home, and I go back every year, but mostly to visit my niece. Well, she’s not really my niece—we’re cousins—but she’s so much younger that I…”
Why was she talking about this? She could feel her mouth moving, the words coming out. She was functional and cognitively grounded, in that the sentences had proper syntax, the words made sense, and yet they poured out of her mouth like something in a cartoon bubble, that went on, and on, and on.
“Oh, look,” she said, cutting herself off, “there’s the coffee shop.” It was lame, but it got her to stop spewing nonsensical shit out of her mouth.
“What’s your favorite drink?” he asked. “Wait”—he interrupted her before she could even answer—“let me guess.”
She stopped, planted her hands on her hips. “Go ahead.”
“You’re a…latte kind of person.”
She cocked her head, looked down, thinking about that for a moment. He was right. Should she tell him he was right, or should she make him sweat it out?
“C’mon, I’m right, aren’t I?”
She looked up, surprised by the confidence in his voice. He really thought he knew her already. “You’re right. Lattes. Boring. Occasionally, I’ll have a triple if I need the extra caffeine, but…”
“Espresso doesn’t have as much caffeine as you’d think,” they said in unison.
This time she flinched, but in a completely different way. “You know that?” she asked.
“You know that?” he countered.
They both laughed.
“How about me? Guess my drink,” he said, waving at his chest, as they slowly made their way into the threshold of the coffee shop.
“I know you like coffee with milk from our…interaction,” she said slowly, “the other night.”
“Interaction?” He smiled. “Is that the word you use for it? I have plenty of better words.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
The barista looked at them expectantly. Josie could feel eyes on her. It was as if everyone else in the room were from a different planet. As all his attention was on her, completely focused, waiting for something that she knew she was capable of giving, but hadn’t known that until this moment.
“Macchiato,” she snapped.
He pulled his head back, a bit perplexed. “What?”
“Macchiato. You’re a macchiato guy. Not that Starbucks crap, either.”
The barista flashed a giant grin at her. This was an independent coffee house, built into what had probably once been a barber’s shop. The long, narrow space was shabby chic, with painted chalkboard walls and a handwritten menu colorfully chalked up daily. The biggest investment in this space was in the espresso machine, which looked like something out of the Steampunk Exhibition at the Charles River Museum of Industry.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “How’d you know?”
“You’re that kind of guy,” she said, leaning back against the counter, needing the support to say what she was about to say. “You can sense, and taste, and feel the subtleties of life. You don’t need to cover up anything with a bunch of milk and a ton of sweetener to make something bitter go down. You savor what you seek, and you know something special when you find it.” The end of her sentence came out husky and dark, like a gasp. This felt like sitting in a confessional, with Alex the priest on the other side of the screen. Except, thank you, Jesus, Alex was no priest.
“Macchiato, huh?” he said with a lopsided grin. “You’re right.” He shook his head slowly, looked at the barista. “A latte and a macchiato, please.” The barista just jutted his chin up in acknowledgment and got to work on the giant, shiny espresso machine. “I do like to taste life exactly as it is,” he said, gesturing to Josie to take a table. There weren’t many, most of the spots taken by people using the coffee shop as a pseudo-office, but there were two, and he grabbed the most private.
She sat down, grateful to give her shaking legs a rest. Talking about herself, talking about anyone, in such true terms wasn’t something she was used to. But she’d done it, she’d actually told him something deep about her soul and about how she saw him, and he was still here.
This wasn’t like in the movies, where the scene ends on this dramatic, intense moment and then switches over to three days later, with the main female character engaging in chatty banter with her best friend, confessing what had happened. Josie couldn’t skip to a charming reflection that perfectly encapsulated all of the heroine’s foibles and her journey toward accepting that love conquers all.
Oh, no.
Instead, she found herself fumbling to know what to do with her hands, her hips, her knees and feet, and the millions of brain cells flying fast and furious inside her skull, trying to compose a sense of self by making it up as she went along, second by second in Alex’s presence.
He leaned forward on the tabletop and invaded her space as much as she could handle. Deep breaths helped center her as she willed herself not to pull back. It would have been too easy to lean casually into the chair’s back and pretend that it was her sarcastic facade that made her so casual, so blasé. It was the comfortable and the known, but…at some point in the past two days, the comfortable and the known had become claustrophobic and stifling.
Alex was a breath of fresh air, and the Josie that she was just starting to get a peek of when she was around him needed more oxygen—not more containment.
*
If he could have hit a pause button, as if life were a DVR, he would have, just to freeze in time what Josie was saying to him, so that he could process it instead of react to it. He tried, with marginal success, to keep a straight face as she talked about him, but he felt as if he had cracked his own chest open and revealed the flesh of his beating heart to her in stark relief.
Such a small thing. It was no big revelation, that macchiatos were, in fact, his favorite coffee drink. The fact that she understood why was what made his pulse race, made his back straighten—and other body parts, too. He was hard at the thought that she could know him so well with so little time together.
As much as he would have enjoyed a pause button, just being real would have to be enough. He reached over and clasped her hand in his, the shock of the connection of their skin making his heart simultaneously race just a little more, and calm down on a deeper level.
She didn’t pull away. In fact, she intertwined her fingers in his, a confirmation of what he had suspected was there, making each step toward connection with Josie seem more preordained. When he reached out she responded, so why was he so unsure? He wished again that he could halt time and buy himself some reflective processing. “Dr. Calm, Cool, and Collected,” as one med school colleague had called him, didn’t get flustered like this. The fact that she could trigger this kind of response in him meant something.
She relaxed at his touch, and just as he was about to open his mouth and ask her how she knew what she knew about him, the barista called out, “Alex!”
He jumped, their hands separated, and he motioned to her to wait, he would get the coffee. He came back to the table, careful to set everything down with unshaking hands. It wasn’t that he was worried that he would spill, but rather that time seemed to move in nanoseconds, while his brain raced at the speed of love.
They each took a sip of their coffee, then he asked, openly, with that unshaken sense that whatever he said had to be enough, “This is unnerving you, isn’t it?”
“Me?” She waved her hand dismissively and took another big sip of her coffee, her face bisected by the rim of the white coffee cup, like a demented librarian looking over the edge of a book.
“Why did you come with me?” he asked, hoping that the question sounded like the warm inquiry that it was, and not an accusation or a sign of creepy, low self-esteem narcissism.
“Because I always go out for coffee with guys who’ve been traumatized by looking at Dylan’s asshole.”
Ah, he thought. She was that threatened. Good. That meant she felt it, too.
Her face got serious and she set the coffee cup down. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, giving him a look at her cleavage as her shirt fell a bit. His fingers itched to reach out and peel the shirt all the way off, gain access to the flesh that had been so tantalizingly close in the on-call room. Oh, how he wanted to get naked with her again, let her explore all the ways they could read each other’s skin, the way that she was reading him now with observations and words.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said. “How often do we get weather like this in May in New England?” She stood, the question not really a question. She seemed to want to walk and he was up for it.
“Hey, you never know. It could snow tomorrow.”
“It could,” she said, and two people sitting at tables nearby nodded in agreement, ruefully smiling and rolling their eyes.
It wouldn’t snow today, though; she was right, it was a good day for a stroll. He had finished his coffee already, the shot with a little milk foam on top about the size of a kid’s Dixie cup, so he pitched it as they walked outside, and then took her hand in his. The gesture, so fluid, felt right.
She looked up at him, and for the first time since he’d seen her today, gave him a dazzling, open look of joy. This was a face he could fall into every morning, waking up next to it. This was a smile he could spend the last six decades of his life admiring. This was a hand he could hold, warm and soft in his, and this was a woman he could know from every perspective, and still find more to know.
As they walked, the heady scent of trees in full bloom filled the air. Alex smelled crabapple trees, and various dogwoods, and other things he couldn’t name. Pink and white petals dotted the scenery in all directions.
“How did you know how I felt,” she asked, “when I was holding the baby today?”
“I told you”—he shrugged—“I’ve seen it before. It’s completely different when you’re holding one that’s related to you.”
“Yeah, but Jillian’s not related to me.”
“Of course she is. Family isn’t just about blood, so you’re related to her.”
She swallowed hard and then smiled again, a grin that reached her eyes and wrinkled the skin above her apple-cheeks, the only part of her face that had spare flesh. They made her look like a teen, carefree and a little untamed.
He stopped, unable to resist—unwilling to resist, in fact. He slipped his arms around her waist, going in for a kiss that made him feel as if all of the time between their last kiss and this were just wasted hours. This seemed impossible, yet he wasn’t about to let the impossible get in the way of the luscious feeling of their embrace. Alex had spent most of his life making the impossible happen, starting with going to med school despite being the child of an eighteen-year-old single mom. Finding the impossible, though, in the form of woman that had eluded him until now.
As she pressed against him, Alex’s body responding to hers with a predictable urgency that made him wish they had two weeks alone in a bedroom. His eye caught a small walking path that led down to a creek, and he pulled away, stopping the kiss. Josie looked up, confused, the sun shining on her pale skin, showing freckles he hadn’t noticed before around the edges of her eyes. She had the blush of arousal on her cheeks, and it filled him with a great strength. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the small path, wanting privacy, wanting to talk more alone, knowing soon she’d need to go back to the hospital.
Josie hadn’t come here to see him—after all, she’d come to see the baby and Laura, right?
*
Josie wondered if Laura would want to kill her if she didn’t get back to the hospital soon, or if her absence would go unnoticed. Given the overwhelming demands that an infant exerts on its parents, she suspected Laura would be quite fine with her spending time like this with Alex. All the same, she couldn’t leave her friend hanging. Or was that just an excuse to avoid the fact that every second she spent with Alex made her want ten thousand more?
His hands were currently playing that dance of early touches, where he wasn’t quite certain where the boundaries were, yet wanted to cross them anyhow. Alex’s tongue parted her lips and the softness, the eager, all-consuming pleasure of being in his arms poured forth from her, making her wet and ready to finish what they’d started in the on-call room.
The yearning was something she could feel in him, too—and not just his hard erection grinding into her navel. She was on tiptoes and he was curled over her, their bodies touching, legs and arms and palms and mouths searching for every part to connect.
She made the first boundary-crossing move, caressing his ass as their kisses deepened. A groan of lust came out of him, vibrating in her mouth as he nipped her lip.
“You do more of that and I’ll…” he said with a rasp, glancing around.
Stepping back, she took his hand, pulling him toward the base of a bridge. The concrete was pebbled with small stones and covered in a creeping ivy that had reached out over the years to a nearby tree, making a canopy no taller than she was. Perfect. Once ensconced under it, she pulled him to her roughly, yanking his shirt out of his waistband, needing to feel the heat of his skin against her palms.
“You’ll what?” she challenged, hand grazing his rock-hard cock, loving the vibrant feel of it through his jeans. A shot of adrenaline ran through her, fired by sheer arousal and a desire to be taken right here in broad daylight, the risk (thrill?) of public discovery making the blood pound in her ears. Her fingers teased the outline of his erection just to see how far he would go.
“I’ll do this,” he growled, making her moan with delight as he pulled her up into his arms and pushed her against the wall, grinding into her and making her so glad she’d chosen to wear a skirt.
Alex seemed to have the same idea. One arm and the weight of his muscled torso held her up as they gasped and bit and laved their way through a kiss that, by all rights, was enough to make her come right now. Then his fingers reached under her skirt and found her panties, pushing aside the soft, cotton fabric to find her wet and soft. His touch made her hips buck against it, her mind in a frenzy at the combination of his arms around her, the scent of him, and what they were doing. Danger turned her on, and he was about to have sex with her in public.
Could he get any better?
Reaching between them, she struggled to unbutton and unzip him, yet persevered, her hand encasing him. Impressive. A bit daunting, even—he was big, and not just hard and throbbing. The man was enormous.
A shock of excitement added to her already oversexed mind and body as Alex peeled her panties right off, shoving them in his back pocket as she watched kayakers paddle past, the leaves that stretched over them barely enough cover. If someone knew to look here, they could see everything.
His mouth bruised hers as his fingertips stroked between her legs with a surgeon’s precision—oh, those hands—and within a tiny number of strokes she was biting his shoulder, clutching his shoulders, pulling at his polo shirt and practically screaming as he kept the languid circles going, making her climax over and over, her sight filled with the green leaves, ears catching the traffic on the road above, the lap of paddles gliding through water, the dusky sound of Alex’s breath against her ear.
“God, I want you,” he murmured. She felt for his back pocket, half mad with the need to have him fill her, and found his wallet. Opening it, she felt by touch for what she needed, blinded by the wall of chest before her and the man’s ceaseless fingers prying her pleasure from her, one stroke at a time.
Aha! Wallet condom. She knew it. He was too responsible not to have one, and as she tucked his wallet back in place and flashed the foil wrapper at him, he chuckled.
“I thought this was an inventive way to mug someone,” he joked.
“Wait until you see what I do when I kidnap you,” she replied, not joking. Pulling away, she heard a low groan of shock, then of appreciation, as she ripped the wrapper open, hands as precise as could be, and rolled the condom on. He shifted her, arms holding her easily as her wetness slid along his upper thigh, their bodies able to do this because of his strength and her dexterity.
She centered her hips over his rod and—without pretense—welcomed him in, his breath hitched and coming out in little grunts, her own matching his as she reveled in the heat of being filled completely by Alex. Dr. Perfect really was perfect—that he enjoyed this, would even consider it, had initiated it ballooned her heart as her body tingled and thrummed, his mouth on her neck and his hips sliding up against her pelvis, knees bent and holding her weight, making love to her slowly.
“Is this okay?” he whispered.
“Are you kidding me? This is amazing,” she said, shuddering as her wet walls clamped down on him, a tightness in her belly emanating throughout her entire torso, pulsing into her ears.
“No, I mean, am I too much? I don’t want to hurt you.” He stopped moving, the stillness both exquisite and aching.
“I’m a big girl.”
He nuzzled her neck, still not moving. Wrapping her legs fully around his hips, she made little thrusts of her own, her position too awkward to get the long, deep strokes he could give her. That meant he was in charge, her orgasm at his command. The sound of bikers riding not thirty feet away, on a path near the water, zinged her with the idea they might be caught.
“No, you’re tiny, and I am—”
Shutting him up, she slammed her mouth against his, lips pulling his apart, tongue ravaging his mouth, until he began to rock against her, the heat between them building.
As quickly as she’d first kissed him, she tore her mouth from his, lips raw and burning. Catching his eyes, which were unfocused and smoldering, she reached up to cup his face in hers, the hint of dark stubble scratching her palms. I wonder what that would be like on my thighs? she wondered, tightening at the thought, making him groan.
Eyes locked, she simply said, “Alex? Shut up and fuck me.”
That was all it took, his mouth twisting into a delighted smirk, his body thrusting so hard into hers she gasped, his tongue licking her collarbone, one masterful hand pulling her shirt and cotton bra down so he could reveal the nipple, the sensation of cold air and then moist mouth on her nipple pebbling it as he drove into her, hard, ramming her as her hands tried to clutch any part of him that she could hold on to for the ride.
Their twin orgasms slammed out of nearly nowhere, and his cry of “Josie!” mixed with her hiss of his name, the feel of the concrete wall against her bare ass, his body pinning her to the wall with his enormity, pushing into her and riding her up, up, up as if she could crash through the canopy of leaves. Her body seized as he groaned and tightened, the sun shining between new spring foliage, her face tipped up to the sun as she received the full offering of luscious, forbidden sex from Dr. Perfect.
His breath came in little pants, his arms slack as he held up her weight, and then—voices.
“Is someone in there?” said a woman from above. Alex moved slowly inward, closer to the thickening of the ivy, crouching down and sliding out of her with a regretful look.
“Sorry,” he said, turning away to slide off the condom. Josie snatched her panties from the loose jeans that hovered around his upper thighs, the edge of the white cotton poking out from the pocket. Out of the corner of her eye, as she scrambled into her underwear, she saw Alex deftly snap and zip up, then toss the condom in a nearby trash can, wiping his hands on the grass.
Ah, romance.
The flush of what they’d just done made her legs shake as she straightened her clothes and ran her hands quickly through her hair, her flesh still on fire and the waves of desire and crested need still pounding through her. Had that really just happened? Did Alex like outdoor sex, too? Her boyfriends had considered her a freak for even hinting at it, and now the guy she met at Laura’s birth turned out not only to accept it, but apparently enjoy it?
Dr. Perfect, indeed.
Slinging his arm around her shoulders, he looked her up and down. “You ready? Laura and the guys must be wondering what happened to you.”
Nodding, she said, “I’m glad we have a bit of a walk ahead of us. One look at me and Laura could guess.”
His eyes surveyed her. “You look exactly the way I like.” A slow, deep kiss at the edge of the leaf umbrella made her toes curl in, turning her wet again, and making her crave a bed, a good Thai takeout menu, and a limitless supply of Barrington Roasters coffee. And a week alone with him.
“Get a room!” a canoer shouted, laughing.
“Too late,” she and Alex whispered in unison.
“This is getting creepy,” she said as they began the walk uphill, Alex’s arm around her.
“Then quit repeating everything I say.”
“Then quit repeating everything I say,” she joked.
“Wait.” He stopped her, turning her to face him, and began stroking the skin of her neck.
“More?” she said, incredulous.
“No. We need to do a tick check.”
“We what?”
“It’s that time of year, and we were just under a thicket that could have them,” he answered, serious. “Lyme disease is no joke. I’ll do you and you do me.”
“We just did each other.”
“Ha ha.” His hands roamed through the hair behind her ears, along her collarbone, then under her shirt, lifting it up and brushing against her breasts.
“You know I’m a sure thing, Alex. You don’t have to invent tick checks to touch my boobs.”
He laughed. “C’mon. Check your legs.”
He was serious. She ran her hands down her legs with a cursory touch, and then stroked his neckline. Slipping the yellow polo shirt up, she felt for ticks in the thick thatch of hair at his waistband, then reached down under, playfully, stroking the tip of him. “Hmmm, I might need to get a close view here to see if there are any ticks there.”
He groaned and gripped her hand in his, hard. “You’re killing me.”
“I’m very good at tick removal there,” she replied, batting her eyelashes in a gesture of innocence. “With my tongue.”
The laugh that poured out of him was pure joy and lust combined, head thrown back and stomach tightening, nearly rippling with the vibration of his amusement.
“Are we done with the tick check, doctor?” she asked, pulling her hand away from his heat.
“You can resume it another time in my bed.” Whoosh! Her senses exploded.
The walk back to the hospital made Josie feel like the coffee that they’d had had been multiplied by a factor of ten, which was roughly the number of orgasms she’d also just had. Alex held her hand, except this time it wasn’t a tentative, beginning-of-a-relationship gesture, trying to feel out where the physical boundaries lay. It wasn’t just an affectionate gesture, either, one designed to send out a beacon, a signal, to point the other in the right direction. This was the clasp of a lover who knows that he has the easy intimacy of reaching out to touch another at will, and she loved every bit of it.
There was a spring in their steps, a jauntiness, a full-on joy. It wasn’t just that they’d had phenomenal, slightly exhibitionistic sex outdoors, with the air perfumed by a nature eager to burst forth in its own explosion of growth and renewal. It was that something drew them to each other and made their hands undress each other, made their bodies press against each other, made this communion a series of touches, caresses, reaches, and embraces.
Then more.
As they entered the hospital and headed to the elevators, they dropped each other’s hands. Alex was now in professional territory, and Josie was perfectly capable of respecting that. Two elevators opened, and the waiting patrons piled into one, Josie following them until Alex grasped her around the waist and pulled her back, holding one index finger up to his lips. He shook his head, then glanced at the open, empty option. She widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows, and marched into the empty elevator. Alex, hot and heavy behind her.
Again? she wondered as the doors snapped shut, and she felt her body slammed against the elevator wall, knowing that the four flights up might damn well be just enough time for him to take her again. His lips weren’t tender now, probing and claiming with an intensity that somehow managed to match what they’d just done by the river. His hands were everywhere, on her hips, up her leg, on her breast, wrapped behind her, searing the flesh on the back of her neck as his hardness pressed into her belly.
Ding! The elevator stopped with an abrupt jolt, a fitting kinesthetic trigger to make them pull back, to realize that there was, indeed, a society in orbit around them. Others used the machine for far more banal purposes.
Smoothing her hair, she tried to look as nonchalant as possible, nurses and doctors piling in from the first floor. Whatever lipstick she’d put on this morning had been long worn away.
A young woman about her own age, blonde and dour, looked up at Alex and said,“What are you doing here? You don’t work today.”
He gave her an irritated look. “I’m here to visit someone.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked, concern infusing her words.
“It’s fine.”
His clipped responses told Josie that something was off here. This wasn’t the Alex she expected, and whoever this woman was, there was a past.
“Is it a family member?” the woman probed.
“Lisa”—he shook his head slightly—“it’s none of your business.”
His quiet, final sentence made the woman snap to attention and look forward, eyes unfocused, on the hazy stainless-steel wall where the doors bisected the side of the elevator. Her nostrils flared and her shoulders slumped forward. She was angry, and Josie wondered why. Not enough, though, to take the shine off of how she was feeling right now.
Just as Josie suspected, the second that she and Alex walked back into Laura’s room, some sixth sense inside her best friend made her cock an eyebrow and give them a look of appraisal that made Josie blush. It seemed to put a little pink in Alex’s cheeks, as well.
“So, what have you two been up to?” Laura said with a cagey tone. The baby was lying in Laura’s arms, eyes wide, alert, and roaming, searching her mother’s face and taking in the pinpoint of the world that Laura’s features represented to her.
As if she had been doing this for decades, Laura shifted the baby from one arm to the other, and then reached under her hospital gown to unclasp her bra. Josie watched, transfixed, as her best friend held the baby’s mouth, pulling it gently open, then squeezed her own breast, shoving it into little Jillian’s perfect, rose-petal lips. And then the unmistakable sound of sucking and breathing through the nose. It was a steady beat that you could almost dance to. Suck suck, inhale, suck suck, inhale, suck suck, inhale, with little gulps in between. Funny little noises and tones coming from the baby’s throat.
“Sweet relief,” Laura groaned, and Josie shot her a look of confusion. “Do you have any idea what it’s like when your boobs are filled with milk, and they’re rock hard, and all you want to do is go down to the nursery and grab two random babies ’cause yours is sound asleep and won’t latch on, and just get the milk out of there?”
“No, I can’t say that I know what that’s like,” Josie answered.
Alex walked over to the bedside table and picked up the mauve plastic pitcher, pouring a glass of water and handing it to Laura. “Here, drink this. You’ll need it.”
“The last thing I need is more fluid in my body.”
He smiled. “No, actually, that’s the first thing you need. The only way you’ll keep up your production is if you keep hydrating.”
Josie watched the two of them, her head bobbing from one to the other. It was as if they spoke Mandarin Chinese. There was a language of parenting, of procreation, lactation, attachment, that she didn’t speak. Laura was quickly becoming not just fluent in it, but accentless. Soon it would be as if it were her first language. Alex was like an immigrant into that world, living there long enough to understand every single word said to him, but occasionally having moments when a slightly misused idiom tripped him up.
To Josie, what they were saying sounded like gobbledygook, and again it alienated her in a way that pierced her even more than it had a few hours ago, to be on the fringes. Knowing that Alex was closer to Laura, and Mike and Dylan, in some ways, than even she was, took the wind out of her. Pushing aside those thoughts, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Her hand instinctively went to stroke the baby’s head, until she realized it was attached to Laura, and that that was probably a boundary she ought not to cross.
“Where’re Mike and Dylan?” she asked.
“They went out to get some food. I’m really jonesing for some sushi.”
“And you know…all that?” Josie said, spinning her hand around in the general direction of Laura’s crotch.
“Well, all that,” Laura said, quietly mimicking Josie’s gesture, “is the equivalent of putting my vagina in a juicer. Whoever invented crotch ice packs is my new best friend.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Sorry, Josie. You’ve been replaced.”
“Oh, God!” Josie said, “Did you really have to go there? The words ‘vagina’ and ‘juicer’ should never be spoken together!”
Alex just laughed, a sound of understanding that took away Josie’s sense of alienation.
“You’ll be…here,” Laura said, spinning her wrist over her pelvis, “someday. You’ll understand.”
“The only way any of these parts are getting anywhere near a juicer is when I cozy up to the bar and lean into it a little too hard to get my fifth pomegranate margarita.”
Alex slid an easy arm around her shoulders and squeezed her upper arm, a playful, affectionate gesture that made Laura raise her eyebrows even higher. “I’m sure you will,” he said, and then dropped his arm, walking over to the base of Laura’s bed and grabbing the chart.
Laura mouthed Oh my God to Josie, and Josie mouthed back I KNOW, and crossed both sets of fingers.
Leaning over the baby, Laura hissed, barely audibly, “I can’t believe you picked a guy up at my birth!”
Josie just shrugged.
Laura pointed to Josie’s belly and whispered, “You’re having one of these someday,” pointing at Jillian, then at Alex, then her.
Josie glared back. “You take that back,” she whispered.
Biting her lips to keep from giggling, Laura shook her head.
“Then I curse you with twins next time you’re pregnant,” Josie growled as menacingly as a girly whispervoice could manage.
“You bitch,” Laura hissed back. She didn’t argue, though, at the idea that she’d be pregnant again. Her mock outrage turned to amusement.
If Josie were Laura right now, with a baby sucking the life force out of her, drinking her milk, and with a cold pack attached to her pubes, she’d be threatening homicide on anyone who suggested that she might have another one. Maybe Laura was just high on painkillers. That had to be it; it was the only way to explain why she would ever want to go through this obscenely barbaric experience again.
*
What had he just done, and when could they do it again? The taste of her was still in his mouth, her juices still on his hips and thighs, the feel of her pushing against him still in his flesh, and her name still echoing among the leftover groans trapped in his throat. He helped lead her back to the sidewalk and up from the little alcove, marveling that they’d just used to have wild, hot, nearly public sex.
And she liked it.
Women never indulged in this—ever—with him. Once, in college, he and a short-term girlfriend had been so drunk after a football game that they’d had a quickie under the bleachers, ten thousand stomping and roaring fans above them. The complete abandon and the risk of getting caught made the act incredibly explosive for him and setting every sense ablaze.
This? What he and Josie had just done without effort, without talking, without worry or fear or hesitation?
A thousand times better.
How had the perfect woman, sexually aware and aggressive enough for him, willing to have outdoor sex and with a brain that intrigued, have been so close yet so far away for half a year?
Holy shit.
His brain was on fire as they walked into Laura’s room. Alex could tell that Laura was exhausted; he shifted into OB mode, a bit relieved to focus on something less overwhelming. The full rush of hormones, and pushing, and breastfeeding, and the recomposition of atoms and molecules inside her to make room for motherhood, was etched into her face. It was in the way her hands moved, how she cradled the baby’s neck, the subtle shift of her hip as she adjusted to having the baby’s weight outside her body now. Every new mother went through some degree of it, the biological reality of birth setting in.
Alex wondered how the two fathers would make the similar adjustment. It was different, he knew that. No nine and a half months of hormones coursing through their veins, only bystanders to the violence of birth. Still, men had to go through a change as well, beyond being protective of the new life that they had helped to create. He thought he could tell which fathers were going to be good pretty quickly, even though he’d been without a father for most of his life. His grandfather had filled in, and was a fabulous father figure, but that’s all he had been…a figure. The empty part of him that wished he had a dad made his stomach tighten as Dylan and Mike came in on cue, looking like they’d be among the good ones.
Josie had taken the baby—with confidence, this time—to burp her when she pulled away from her mother’s breast. Mike and Dylan both grinned expectantly at the baby, but kept a respectful distance from Josie, who now cradled Jillian in her arms, swinging her gently, keeping the baby content.
“Josie’s not fainting this time,” Dylan stage whispered.
“Where’s my sushi?” Laura barked. “You can talk about anything you want, but not until I’ve had my sushi.”
Mike handed her two containers of California roll. “Sushi.” He sniffed. “That’s not sushi.”
“Yes, it is.”
“That’s California roll. Sashimi…now that’s sushi,” Dylan said.
“Actually,” Mike interjected, “neither is.”
It sounded like an old argument.
“I can finally eat sashimi again, can’t I?” Laura answered, just remembering. “Hmmmm…” She bit her lower lip and stared with great longing at Mike’s raw salmon.
“You wanna trade?” he offered, reluctantly.
She gave him a closed-mouth smile. “No, go ahead, it’s fine, but next time, get me some.”
The three parents dug into their meal with gusto.
Josie seemed to have forgotten that anyone else was in the room, so intent was she on studying and absorbing the baby’s features. She was a natural. Alex found his mind wandering to a future, and caught a glimpse of the woman he could love holding their child. He’d always thought of it…fatherhood…one day, but now he had a face to attach to the imagined reality.
“You want one?” Dylan asked.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Alex looked up to find Dylan holding out a tray of California roll. “No. Thanks. I’m…I’m good.” As if on cue, his stomach rumbled.
Dylan cocked his head and said, “Hey man, we’ve got plenty.”
“You’re hungry?” Josie said, snapping out of her own little world. “You want to get dinner?”
I want to get that tick check you promised, he thought. “Dinner would be great, but first, give me a chance to hold her.”
“Oh, come on, I just got her,” Josie protested.
“And you’ll get to hold her…for”—he paused and looked around the room—“forever. Or at least until she she’s too wiggly and won’t let anyone hold her anymore. Then you’ll get to play with her—running around the playground, digging for worms, or doing whatever it is that kids do when they reach the point where they don’t want to be held. This is my shot, though. Let me have a turn?”
“I’m twenty-nine and I’d like to still be held,” Laura piped up.
“Ooooooooh,” said Mike, coming over and giving her a big hug. Dylan piled on, too, keeping his hands extended out so that his fish-covered fingers didn’t touch her.
“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, but tears filled her eyes. “I wish my mom could be here,” she said quietly. She swallowed hard, and the tears spilled over, running down her bright red cheeks.
“Your mom would have loved her,” Josie said, handing the baby off to Alex, and then walking over to the bed to touch Laura’s leg in assurance.
Alex hadn’t meant to hit so many nerves, but apparently he’d said the wrong thing. “So, I think we should be going.” The soft heft of the baby wrapped in the flannel blanket made a part of him go soft and paternal, time slowing down as he acknowledged the wonder of this little girl’s new life. She smelled like freshness and perfection, and as he traced her cheek with one finger he found the sweetness almost too much. Almost. If he let himself, he could sit down with new babies and rock them to sleep all day. Sadly, that wasn’t his job.
Besides, he had some unfinished business with Josie.“Let’s give the Daddies a turn with their daughter,” Alex suggested.
Plus, he wanted to get Josie out of here. To do what, he wasn’t sure. He’d love to do more of what they had just done down by the river, but he thought he should hold off. Having this start out so hot, so fast, risked burning it out just as quickly.
As he watched her chat with Laura, and lean in for a hug, then a kiss on the cheek, he saw a warmth to her that she only showed to people she was close to. Even Dylan got a hug from her. When she stood on extreme tiptoes to give Giant Mike an embrace as well, Alex smiled involuntarily.
“Hold on,” Mike said, peering at the top of her head. Fishing in her hair, Mike untangled a leaf and held it up to look.
“You’re sprouting these days?” the man asked her, and Alex suppressed a laugh.
“No comment,” she said, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
“Alex?”
“I defer to Josie.”
“Just repeat that phrase a thousand times for the rest of your life and you’ll do fine with her,” Dylan added.
Josie laughed and moved toward the doorway. Alex took her cue, handing the baby off to Laura. He reached over and rubbed Jillian’s soft little head, and then looked Laura in the eyes. “Congratulations, again. You did it.”
She smiled and closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “Thank you. I did, didn’t I? My midwife called me a birth warrior.”
He did a slow inhale and smiled, his cheeks hurting from so much grinning. “I think that’s pretty apt.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
Laura’s eyes darted over to Josie, who was speaking animatedly with Dylan about knocking it off with his giraffe.
“Oh,” Alex said. He looked away, a bit flustered. “That.”
“Yeah”—Laura pointed her finger covertly at Josie—“that. Take care of that,” she said, winking.
He nodded and turned away, not sure what to say. As he walked to the doorway, Josie reached out, tentatively, for his hand. The public gesture, two feet away from Dylan, made him swell with hope. It made other things swell as well, and now that tight feeling plagued him. Already? Yes, he was ready again, already, and as they walked out the door and said their final goodbyes, he wondered what would happen next in the elevator.