Helena
The lukewarm water ran over my belly, the subtle bump that was just a little bit larger than yesterday. It was still small enough that even the people closest to me would never notice, but it was getting bigger every week. Soon enough, I'd need to be careful about what I wore if I wanted to hide it.
I hadn't started showing this early with Ali, but this pregnancy was different in many different ways. It had given me plenty of chances to indulge in a guilty pleasure of mine, looking up old wives' tales to see what each change might've meant. It was completely unscientific, and the theories contradicted themselves with each new symptom.
Heartburn? I was having a girl.
Low heart rate? Now it was a boy.
Craving sweet things? It was a girl again!
My personal favorite was, of course, when I heard that the baby's gender was based on whichever partner was on top during conception. I'd chuckled when I read that, wondering how on earth it might've worked with artificial insemination.
Maybe the kid will come out identifying as a turkey baster, I'd thought, laughing to myself. Eleven years later and Ali had yet to show any unusual interest in poultry. I chuckled like a teen. Not that it would've mattered if she had anyways—I knew from the start that I would love her no matter what.
Just like I'd love this one. I didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl yet, and I wasn't even sure if I wanted to know. Not before giving birth, and I could finally hold him—or her—in my arms at last.
Turning the water off, I grabbed a towel. The air was steamy, but not much more steamy than it was in the rest of the house. Summer had finally hit full force, and I hoped Ali was okay in my father's sweltering garage. Not that she ever minded, too excited to be working on inventions with her grandpa to care.
I was wringing out my hair when the doorbell rang. Dominick wouldn't be here for a few hours yet, so I didn't think twice about wrapping the towel across my chest and trotting down to the foyer. It was probably just a package being delivered, or Mrs. Lauer coming for one of her frequent visits.
I really needed to stop doing that, I thought as I swung open the door and came face-to-face, or well, face-to-chiseled-chest with Dominick. Immediately I turned pink, wondering what he must think of me that I kept answering the door half naked.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice….
"Oh!" I stammered out awkwardly. Or, to be more accurate, I made a bunch of incoherent noises with my mouth and "Oh!" was one of them.
Probably.
"I'm very early, I know. I can come back later," he apologized, looking down on my towel as I clutched it as tightly against my chest as I could.
"It's uh—it's fine. Come on in," I said finally, once I remembered how to use my tongue properly. "I mean, if you want to. Ali isn't home right now."
Dominick looked surprised at my words, though not as surprised as I felt to hear myself saying them. It was innocent enough, but some prudish part of my brain screamed that inviting him in when I was alone—and virtually naked—was surely scandalous behavior.
Nevertheless, I couldn't help but smile when he nodded and stepped inside. He immediately took his leather jacket off, and I didn't blame him. The heat outside was bad enough, but it was even worse indoors. Mrs. Lauer was a good landlady, but the occasional heat wave just wasn't enough to justify the price of installing air conditioning in our temperate climate.
I didn't blame him for taking it off, but the sight of his muscular shoulders rippling beneath a thin grey t-shirt gave me unwelcome shivers. With a free hand, I took his bike helmet and hung it on one of the wall pegs behind him, semi-hidden by the door.
"Thanks," Dominick said, and once again his large body seemed to take up all the space in the small foyer. He looked at me questioningly, his colorful eyes fastidiously locked onto my face and no lower.
Is he behaving because he's a gentleman? Or is he just not interested? Or does he see so many naked women that a girl answering the door in a towel is just a total non-event to him? I wondered, annoyed with myself for caring.
"Ali won't be back for quite some time, I'm afraid. She's visiting her grandpa, a few blocks down. She always goes there in the mornings, but stay. Uh—that is, you can stay. If you want," I said, blushing again at the implied demand in my tone. Deciding it was better for everyone if I kept my mouth shut, I waited for an answer while my racing mind justified my behavior.
I just wanted the chance to size him up a bit more, really. I knew it wouldn't be easy to make small talk with a man like Dominick, even more under the strain of suddenly sharing a child, but I knew that it was good for me to try. His unexpected early visit could only help me, after all.
"Are you sure I wouldn't be intruding?" he asked, his eyes flitting down to the towel for a fraction of a second before bouncing back up to my face.
It was probably just my imagination that made it look like he swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat shifting downward. Even so, it made me hyper-aware of my own state—a small lump in my throat and dryness in my mouth. I wondered if he was trying to read me like I was trying to read him, and whether or not he was doing a better job of it.
I suddenly wanted to run and hide, but of course I couldn't. Ali had too much to lose, and I needed to remain strong for her.
"There's lemonade in the refrigerator, if you'd like a drink. Homemade," I suggested. "Ali and I always have fun making it, so help yourself to as much as you like. I need to go get dressed."
"Do you?" Dominick asked, and the lump in my throat grew to the size of a hockey puck. "Uh. Do you enjoy making it, I mean," he added quickly, running his palms down his hips and jamming them into his pockets. "It's always seemed like a big mess to me."
"Cooking-with-Ali-is-always-fun" I stammered quickly, flustered. Taking a few steps backwards, I reached back with my free hand and made sure the towel was effectively covering my backside. Convinced that it was safe, I turned around and practically bolted up the stairs.
Even under normal conditions, I wasn't very good at flirting. I could never tell when a man was interested in me or just being polite, usually erring on the side of caution and convincing myself I was imagining things. Between my unusual relationship to Dominick and the pregnancy hormones going into cavegirl-overdrive, these were as far from normal conditions as it got.
Even if I wasn't imagining it, he probably flirted with everyone. That was what he probably did, after all.
Probably.
Shaking my head to snap some sense back into myself, I threw the towel onto my bed and grabbed the first dress I could find. It was a light, strapless cotton thing, perfect for throwing on quickly. I didn't want to give Dominick time alone to think, for fear that he'd notice how awkward and desperate and downright lewd I was acting.
Slipping my feet into a pair of platform sandals, I hurried for the door but froze when I passed my mirror.
It was worse than I thought.
I wasn't just blushing a little, I was bright lobster red. It probably looked fine in a towel, but I'd been out of the shower for minutes now and that excuse was done. I needed a moment to regain my composure, clearly.
Opening my makeup drawer, I pulled out an assortment of concealers and powders and liners. With a few deep, mindful breaths, I began to apply a few touches that I hoped would make me more presentable. Once I was convinced that I had done a good job, I headed downstairs to the kitchen.
Dominick had poured two tall glasses of lemonade, the ice in them already half-melted in the summer heat. "Thanks," I said before taking a sip. "Like it?"
"It's great," Dominick answered. "I haven't had homemade lemonade in years."
Pausing to take a drink of his own, Dominick gave me a big smile. "Know what'd make it perfect?"
My traitorous eyes answered his question by drifting downward, gazing over the rest of Dominick's hard body.
Dammit, Helena, I thought, biting my lip to force myself back to attention.
"What?" I asked.
"A nice breeze to go with it. Do you have a patio or something? Someplace we can drink this outside?"
"Uh…in theory?" I answered, unable to keep my pitch from rising at the end of the phrase.
"In theory?" Dominick asked.
"It's kind of a bit…er…have you ever seen Little Shop of Horrors?"
"The movie or the musical?" Dominick laughed.
"Either one, really," deciding that showing was easier than telling. Gesturing for Dominick to follow, I lead him towards the back door. With a dramatic sweep of my arms, I opened the door to show the horror that lay outside.
An old wrought iron table and four matching chairs sat abandoned and dirty as plants threatened to devour the rusty metal. The grass was as heavy as my embarrassment, but there simply wasn't any time to properly take care of the large back yard. Even keeping up with the front was difficult, and people could actually see that one. Every time I caught a glimpse back here, I was thankful that no neighbors overlooked the mess and Mrs. Lauer was understanding of the situation.
"Feed me, Seymour," Dominick said with a laugh. "So, where do you two hang out in the summer?"
"Well, there's the kitchen…and the living room, our bedrooms…" I said sheepishly. "And my father's garage. When we want to go really crazy, there's always the library."
"Even when it's beautiful out? And terribly hot inside?"
"The library has air conditioning!" I pointed out, only half joking and amazed that he hadn't burst into laughter. Even I wanted to laugh.
The sun was shining on Dominick's face as he looked out over the virtual thicket, a crooked smile on his perfect lips. I felt lightheaded, and suddenly I could no longer deny that the man wasn't just handsome. He was freaking gorgeous.
And I was attracted to him.
A lot.
In a way that had nothing to do with pregnancy hormones. Hell, it probably didn't even have anything to do with the fact that I hadn't been with a man since Ali came along, either.
It was just because he was so, so…good.
But of course, that was the problem all along, wasn't it? He was good at this. At seducing women, racking up new notches on his bedpost. Just because I was falling for it didn't mean that it was suddenly a good idea to want him.
Or to touch him.
To kiss those lips.
To taste him.
To feel him as he…
Dammit, Helena, I thought again, my bottom lip turning ever more ragged as the day wore on.
"We're both kind of homebodies, you see," I explained, pushing away the thoughts of his virile arms and shoulders.
Virile. The word echoed in my mind, a natural pause in the conversation giving me just enough time to dwell and obsess. Why would I think of him as virile? Not manly, or strong, or any other synonym relating to masculinity. No, my mind had gone straight to the one that also meant capable of reproduction.
Well, why not? After all, he clearly was virile. He'd gotten me pregnant twice in just two attempts.
His anonymously donated semen got you pregnant twice, you mean, I corrected myself, the humid air making it hard to breathe.
"Hello?" Dominick said, his voice concerned. "Are you okay?"
"Of course," I said, forcing my own voice to be chipper and bright. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You were just staring off into space, not responding to me."
"I did?" I asked. "Sorry. I guess I just…didn't hear you," I offered lamely.
"Are you sure you're okay? It also looked like your face was turning—"
"—Just the heat," I insisted quickly. "I'm not used to it. Like I said, we're kind of homebodies. Not really big on the great outdoors and all that."
"You call your yard 'the great outdoors?'" Dominick asked, still sounding concerned.
"Well, that's pretty telling, isn't it?" I laughed, trying to usher him back inside. "Thank you for being worried, but I'm fine. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I just kind of zoned out for a second. It won't happen again."
Dominick nodded, but didn't come in with me. Instead he peered out over the yard one more time, hand on his hip as he surveyed the overgrowth. "When exactly did you say Ali was coming back, again?"
"A couple of hours," I frowned. Was he already so eager to leave?
"That should be plenty of time. Where do you keep your lawn mower?" he asked.
I blinked a few times, surprised by the non sequitur. "Lawn mower?" I asked lamely. "Where does it look like I keep it?" I said, pointing again to the overgrown mess. "I don't have one, but my landlady lets me borrow hers when I need to take care of the front."
"That works, too," Dominick said enthusiastically. "What do you say we surprise Ali with a nice, well-groomed back yard to play in when she gets back?"
I laughed at the funny joke, realizing too late that he was serious.
"She's gone for two hours, not two weeks," I said, crossing my arms defensively.
"Well, we can get started. But I think you'll be surprised by how much I can do in just a couple hours," Dominick said, gracefully ignoring how badly I'd embarrassed myself. "And it'll be good for us. Vitamin D and all that. I'm holed up in a rink or a gym way too often for my liking. Where does your landlady live?"
"Across the street," I answered reluctantly, even though Dominick's glorious tan made me highly suspicious of his claim. "Her name is Mrs. Lauer."
Dominick nodded, quickly setting out to go find her. I waited in the kitchen, sipping on the lemonade and trying my best to avoid peeking out the window and staring at Dominick's tight backside. Five minutes later, he was back, triumphantly pushing Mrs. Lauer's large mower.
"I'm surprised she gave you the time of day," I said after running out to open the back gate. "She's a good friend, but awfully suspicious of strangers."
Suspicious was putting it mildly. Everyone needs a hobby, and Mrs. Lauer's was amateur web-sleuthing. She spent a great deal of time and energy going over cold case police reports, posting her theories to a forum full of likeminded individuals. It was sweet, but it also gave her a tendency to think axe-murderer every time she saw a lumberjack.
I wondered what she thought of Dominick, a giant and muscled stranger asking for her lawn mower out of the blue. It couldn't possibly have gone well.
Except, obviously, it had.
"Not quite a stranger," Dominick said. "She just wanted an autograph."
"My landlady is a fan of hockey?" I asked. "My prim-and-proper, retired landlady? The one who bakes oatmeal cookies every week?"
"Apparently. Takes all kinds," Dominick said as he checked over the mower. A moment later he started it, the noisy machine whirring to life. I took a step back as he tested it on a small patch of overgrowth, the blades cutting through it with ease. "Anything you want to salvage? Or objects I need to look out for?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Great. Chill that lemonade, would you? We'll be needing it soon," he said over the noise, pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the table. His eyes twinkled in the sunlight and I stood transfixed, unable to look away.
I answered his request with a nod, but inside my head I could only form one word.
Virile.