Jude has worked hard all week to wrap up another project he’s been working on. So, when I get home early, I decide to make one of his favorites for dinner. I scan through the pantry, taking note of the ingredients I’ll need to make a lasagna. I’m missing a few items and will need to run out to grab them. Once I think I have everything listed, I hop in my car and head to the fresh market that’s about a mile from the house.

Finding what I need is easy since I mostly need the basics of tomatoes, cheese, and fresh pasta. We have a large supply of eggs on hand thanks to my odd cravings as of late and the spice racks are completely filled at home. One thing I can say about my alpha, he definitely doesn’t let me go without. If I even hint at wanting something, it shows up on one of the shelves at home before I know it. I’m having to learn to watch what I say because even if I tease about wanting something extravagant, he takes me seriously. And as much as I believe I could eat five gallons of ice cream in one sitting sometimes, we definitely don’t need that much sitting in the freezer for me to attempt the feat.

I don’t need to gain more weight than I already have. I can’t even tie my shoes anymore.

I continue to ask the doctor at every visit if I’m having twins, be she continues to assure me I’m not. Even though I have a feeling one kid is playing peek-a-boo behind the other during the ultrasounds I’ve had. At least if I were having two, I could excuse away all the weight I’ve gained.

Jude tells me every day that I’m just as sexy as ever, but he has to be lying as well. My fat stomach is only accentuated by my leaking chest that is beginning to fill with milk. Add all that to my swollen cankles, and I feel like Shamu.

At the refrigerated section of the store, I pretend to gaze upon the different brands of cheeses when I’m actually just absorbing the cool air. I now run at like two hundred degrees and can never cool down. When a line starts to form behind me, I grab a package of shredded mozzarella hanging from one of the hooks and then glance around for a container of ricotta. Of course, the package I need is on a top shelf so I have to stretch on my tiptoes to reach for it. Just as my fingers close on the plastic tub, my body locks up in a sharp and quick pain.

A small gasp escapes my throat as I try to assess what hurts. My frown catches the attention of a woman nearby and she stops to check on me. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” I reply as the pain subsides. “I’m not sure what happened.”

Her eyes soften as she looks at my stomach. “How far along are you?”

“Almost eight months.”

“Oh.” Her embarrassed look is one I’m not unfamiliar with at this point. She obviously thought I was further along.

“It’s okay. I’ve gained a ton of weight.” I smile, letting her know I’m not offended by her comment.

“I’ve been there.” She shrugs. “What can you do, right?”

I laugh with her. “Not eat?” I say sarcastically.

“Yeah, but that’s the best part of being pregnant. You get the excuse.”

“True.” I’m finally feeling well enough to attempt another grab at the ricotta, pleased to reach it without incident.

“Well, just be sure to take care of yourself and that little one. Trust me…this is the easy part.” She gives me a wink and says goodbye, turning back to her buggy and strolling away.

Placing my newly acquired purchase in my own buggy, I head for another aisle to grab the remaining items I need. I swing by the bakery, picking up a fresh loaf of bread to top with a delicious garlic-butter sauce. Somehow, I’ve only managed to spend thirty minutes in the store and am able to get home quickly enough to get the oven pre-heating and several bowls out to begin mixing ingredients.

By the time my sauce is heated on the stove, the oven has beeped, letting me know that it’s at the right temperature, and I have my cheese filling ready to spread. I layer the ingredients into a glass pan and fill it to the top. Since I don’t want to deal with the mess of having the cheese bubble over, I decide to be cautious, placing a huge sheet of foil on the bottom rack of the oven to catch any spillage.

After setting the oven’s timer for sixty minutes, I start peeling some apples to make an apple pie for dessert. The pre-rolled pie crust was too tempting to resist since we already had apples and sugar at home. It was a good choice because I wouldn’t feel right serving Jude’s favorite dinner without his favorite dessert.

Making quick work of the apples, I set them aside along with some pre-measured sugar and spices. The lasagna still has forty minutes to go and Jude should be home within the hour. Looking down at myself, I can feel my body screaming for a shower. There’s enough time before Jude gets home, so I decide to give in to what my body wants.

The warm cascade of water flowing down my back is well received as I wash the day away. I’m excited for the romantic dinner I have planned for my mate… My mate. I never thought I would be saying those words about anyone until I was older. But he’s exactly what I’ve wanted. I caress my hand over my baby bump, or more like baby mountain, and talk sweetly to my growing baby.

“You’ve made Daddy a very happy man. You know that?” I rub the body wash I’ve piled into my hands over my belly and wait for a kick in response, but nothing comes. Of course, the baby is sleeping while I’m up. Later tonight, when I’m trying to rest, that’ll be time to play bouncy house against my bladder and lungs.

I rinse off and hop out of the shower. As much as I’d love to dress up for Jude, I simply can’t find the energy to put on a nice shirt and pants. I settle for a pair of shorts and a one of Jude’s T-shirts, which is about the only thing I can fit into lately.

Looking at myself in the bedroom mirror, I shrug at the frumpy look I’m sporting. I guess tonight will be a true test of whether or not Jude loves the inner me. Because the outer me looks like a crack whore on a dirty street corner. I comb my hair with my fingers and then head back to the kitchen with ten minutes still left on the timer.

I blend the spices for the pie and get everything into the crust, ready for me to place it in the oven once the lasagna is finished. I’m just about to start making the butter sauce for my garlic bread when the timer goes off. Opening the oven door, the delicious aroma of seasoned tomatoes and cheese come wafting out. I inhale deeply, feeling a jump in my stomach.

“Oh…so, now that you know there’s food, you want to wake up. I see how it is.” I laugh gently as I place the hot lasagna pan on the stovetop to cool while I pop the pie pan into the oven and turn up the temperature. Returning to the butter I’ve laid out on the counter, I put it into a small saucepan and set the burner to low, letting it melt slowly as I add in some garlic seasoning.

With the lasagna cooling and my sauce on low, I grab a couple plates from the cabinet and set them on the dining room table. Wishing I had some candles for the table, I check the closet for a set. Coming up empty, I mentally scold myself for not thinking of grabbing some from the market. Although, considering what I’m wearing, tonight wasn’t meant to be romantic anyway.

Back in the kitchen, I grab the loaf of bread and slice it down the center then pour the buttery concoction across both sides. Once they’ve absorbed the golden liquid, I place the two halves back together and wrap the bread in foil before tucking it beside the pie in the oven.

I almost have everything ready. The new aroma of baking apples mixes with the fresh scent of Italian seasonings. The two together should be completely disgusting, but another kick in my belly tells me the baby agrees that it smells delicious. As I step over toward the counter to grab utensils for our place settings, a sharp pain races up my body.

“Umph!” I place one hand on my stomach and reach out to grab the countertop. Just as my hand is about to hit the surface, another pain shoots up my spine and across my abdomen, sending me into a panicked twist. My body turns and my back slams against the counter edge. Both hands fly to my stomach instinctively as something warm winds its way down my leg. A trail of scarlet sends my senses into overdrive.

Panicked, I try to move over to the table where I left my phone next to one of the cookbooks I was using. Another sharp pain pulls against my will, sending me crashing to the floor. I don’t know what’s happening, but the world is spinning around me as I try desperately to claw for the table. It’s just inches away from my fingertips but it might as well be a mile.

My hand stretches as far as it can only to come up short and fall to the ground in defeat. The final pain I remember shoot out from my spine to every extremity as I double over and feel a new flood of warmth spill from my legs onto the kitchen floor.

Then the world goes black.