Helena
I woke up to the sound of loud knocking on the front door. Still groggy, I peered through the curtains to see that the sun was already high in the sky. The clock said it was almost noon, confirming my suspicions that Ali had let me sleep in. She seemed less demanding since I entered the second trimester, and I wondered if she almost had some kind of sixth sense about the pregnancy. Whatever the reason, I couldn't have been more grateful for her cooperation. Raising a daughter alone had been difficult, but doing it while juggling a full-time job and a pregnancy took everything I had.
It was a fact that I hadn't quite let sink in, back at the fertility clinic.
There was more knocking, and I hurried downstairs to find a bespectacled Ali engrossed in her computer. I opened the front door, remembering a split second too late Dominick's habit of showing up unexpectedly and my vow to only appear fully dressed. I winced, expecting the worst, but was relieved—and maybe the tiniest bit disappointed—to find it was just Mrs. Lauer.
"Oh thank goodness, I was so worried!" she cried out, looking thoroughly alarmed. "You weren't answering your phone, and your curtains were still closed. I assumed the worst!"
I shook my head, trying not to laugh when I saw what the landlady was carrying. A paper bag in one hand, and my spare key in the other. She'd never used it before, but always teetered on the brink between discretion and intrusion. Today, however, the look on her face told me that her curiosity was unusually voracious today.
"No, nobody was axe-murdered here today," I joked.
"Well, of course not," Mrs. Lauer said in a matter-of-fact deadpan. "Hockey players don't use axes, they have sticks!"
Well, at least she was getting right to the point. It was endearing, in an obnoxious sort of way. Or maybe it was obnoxious in an endearing sort of way, it was always hard to say with Mrs. Lauer.
"It's the first week of vacation, and I went to bed late," I explained, offering as little as I could in the way of explanation. I didn't mention how tired the pregnancy made me, or how once again I'd been plagued with vivid images that kept me from sleeping peacefully.
"He did leave pretty late, didn't he?" Mrs. Later asked with a wink, stepping inside the house.
"Yes, he did. And no, I'm not going to talk about it," I said with a laugh. As pushy as she was acting, we were still friends and I knew she was ultimately harmless.
"Not even a whisper? Not even for a bribe of cookies?" the older lady asked, chirpy and chipper as she shook the paper bag. She opened it up, and the warm smell of homemade baked goods wafted out enticingly.
"Afraid not," I said, walking into the kitchen where I began heating up some water.
"Awww, not even a little? Like, say, about what a handsome young man he is?" she pleaded, taking out two bags of herbal tea and placing them in mugs for us. My face felt warm as I pictured Dominick, admitting to myself that he was a handsome man.
No, he was more than handsome. He was hot.
Smoking. Freaking. Hot.
More than that, though, was his presence. He seemed larger than life, like he took up more than his share of space in the house and my mind.
Also my dreams, I thought, remembering again the endless string of fantasies that had followed me last night from the moment he left to the moment I finally woke up. No matter how mortified I was to remember the way I'd shamelessly hit on him, my mind kept returning to that moment—and the hypothetical consequences—again and again.
And again.
And, well, again.
Mrs. Lauer's gaze was locked onto me as she studied my face, her lips curled up into a smile. "Well, maybe that part doesn't need to be discussed. We both have eyes, you know."
"Right," I said weakly, running my hand through the tangle of my hair in a vain attempt to distract myself. The fact remained that Dominick was Ali's brand new dad, and that was never going to change. Romantic partnerships failed more often than not, and getting involved with Dominick meant putting his relationship with Ali at risk. It was a chance I couldn't take, and so I needed to forget all about how good I felt whenever he was nearby.
The phone rang, and I rushed over to it so quickly that I practically left a puff of cartoon smoke in my wake.
"Hello?" Dominick's low, manly voice resonated through the little speaker, and immediately my skin erupted into shivers and bumps.
"Hey," I replied, my own voice hoarse with sleep and a renewed burst of the arousal I'd felt last night. Suddenly I was very glad for cell phones, because otherwise I probably would've started unconsciously twisting my finger through the cord under the watchful gaze of Mrs. Lauer.
"Just calling to check on you," he said.
"Ali's doing great," I answered, assuming he misspoke.
"I'm really glad to hear that, but it's not what I asked," he clarified. "How are you?"
"I'm, uh…fine," I said, swallowing hard. Fine, except for the fact you kept me up all night doing progressively depraved things with me. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, you kind of took a pounding yesterday," he said, and I wondered how he long he'd been able to read my mind.
"Oh!" I said a moment later, as my brain finally caught up to my libido. "You mean the sunburn."
"And the sting, yeah."
"They're both doing much better, thanks for asking. Sorry. I'm a bit slow this morning, still pretty tired. Remind me not to eat so much pizza before bed again, please. Crazy dreams," I joked.
"Yeah," Dominick agreed, his voice gruff in a way that was easy to pretend might be possessive. "Me too."
"Well, that settles it, then," I said. "No more pizza ever again."
Ali whipped around in her seat to look at me, her face frankly horrified. Her mouth opened wide, her silent scream of MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!! plain.
I shook my head and turned around, once again face to face with Mrs. Lauer. She was winking and nodding furiously, dropping suggestive hints the size of atomic bombs.
Oh boy, I thought, turning yet again and walking towards the back door. Looking out the window, I smiled at the incredible transformation Dominick had initiated. It was a nice, wholesome scene, one that helped me forget—
And that spot is where he almost kissed you and you tried to drag him off to your bedroom, my mind intruded. Biting my lip, I turned one last time and rested my back against the door. Mrs. Lauer was still staring at me, but it would have to do.
"So…think you might be able to come—" I began, interrupted by yelling voices on the other end of the line.
"Just a minute!" Dominick called back to them loudly. "Sorry," he said to me. "Today's a crazy busy day. Workouts and practice and a million other things I'd really rather forget about."
"You mean you don't like your job?" I whispered.
"No, I love it. There's just other stuff I'd rather be doing today."
Before I could embarrass myself by asking what other stuff was, there was more yelling. Dominick quickly continued, his voice now hurried.
"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to the splash fountain at Boston Common, tomorrow afternoon. They have kids, ice cream, live music. I thought Ali would really be into the whole thing."
I nodded along, sure he was right. Ali would probably love it.
So would I, which was a problem.
Still, I couldn't decently prevent Ali from spending time with her father just because I liked the man too much. Keenly aware of how little time Dominick had left on this call, I blurted out my answer before I could change my mind.
"Sure, why not?" I said quickly.
"Great!" he said enthusiastically. "I'll meet you by the fountain at two o'clock, so Ali has time to visit her grandpa first. Sound good?"
"Sounds perfect," I said. We finalized the details, planning to hit the wading pond first before going out to eat afterwards. With a quick exchange of parting pleasantries, Dominick hung up the phone just before his teammates tried physically dragging him to the rink.
I put the phone away, beaming brightly to myself. Tomorrow sounded like it would be a great day, and I couldn't wait to tell Ali. Between the trip to the fountain and the small pool we bought yesterday, I'd need to spend some time today buying a bathing suit.
I wonder if he likes one- or two- piece suits, I mused to myself, as I walking back to the kitchen with an electric spring in my step.
This was a fantastic idea.
"Hot date tomorrow?" Mrs. Lauer asked.
"What? No, don't be silly," I said, pouring the now-heated water into our mugs and dunking the tea bags. "Just a little get-together with a friend. Nothing unusual."
"Mmhmm," Mrs. Lauer said.
"What?" I repeated.
The woman shook her head, politely clearing her throat and avoiding looking at me.
"My mistake. Probably just the summer heat, then," she quipped with a half-smile. I looked up at myself on the nearby mirror, and suddenly the electricity I'd felt earlier made more sense. My cheeks were so red they looked like two ripe tomatoes. A small cry of surprise escaped my lips and Mrs. Lauer giggled, which only made me blush harder. I looked down at my hands. My fingers were sweaty and shaking a little, and the truth dawned on me. All this was something I hadn't felt in a long time.
Raw sexual heat.
A fantastic idea? Scratch that.
This was an absolutely terrible idea.