After another six months of deliciousness—and yes, worry and anxiety, because let’s be real, my not-so-easy-bake-oven could crap out at any moment—it finally happens. I stand in Fox’s bathroom—well, our bathroom. After a few months of official boyfriend-girlfriend status, he had all but insisted I move in. I told him no at least five times before I realized he was right. I was practically living there already, and neither of us was as happy when we spent the nights apart. I even sleep better with him, which seems impossible, but most nights it’s true. So. Weird.
I stare for far too long at the fifth pregnancy test I’ve peed on. The plus sign is somehow extra plus-y, so I think I’m finally willing to believe it. I take a deep breath, surprisingly nervous when I decide I’m ready to tell Fox we’re in business. It’s hard to believe the disaster of the last time could repeat itself, but I guess the “once bitten” syndrome is the real deal.
It takes me a few extra seconds to shake it off. This is what we wanted. This was the plan. As a couple. Unless he loses his fucking mind, he should be excited.
“Fox?” I call, my eyes waiting for his. He’s leaning on the kitchen counter, reading a magazine.
“Yeah, baby?” He doesn’t look up.
“Fox.”
“What is it?” That magazine is about to get set on fire.
“I hate you.”
“What?” The incredulity in his voice makes me smile and the nervousness skips off a cliff. He finally looks up at me, though, and immediately notices what I’m holding. “What? Tell me right now.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I just wanted to say hi.”
Kermit face. Score. “Lolls,” he says in warning.
I tip a smile. “I’m pregnant.”
He exhales and freezes. As in, he legit does not move and I begin to worry I broke something with the news.
“Fox?”
He doesn’t even blink.
“FOX.”
And then he breaks. First his lips part and then his breathtaking smile lights up his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I nearly whisper. I have these damned predictable tears forming in the corners of my eyes, but I don’t care anymore. The way he’s looking at me could warm and dry the oceans.
He drops the magazine and in a blink, surrounds me. His body, his warmth, his scent. When he lifts me off my feet and kisses me, I’m surprised. We planned this, we love each other, and now, here we are. Where we wanted to be. No bullshit. But his genuine joy in the result makes me almost happier than the result itself.
The kiss slows and he relaxes into a tight hold on me. His lips bounce along the edge of my face and jaw, teasing my neck until they plant on my shoulder. Then, bombs away.
“Should we get married?”
I nearly choke on my crackers. Well, I would if I were eating them. In fact, I would love some crackers. “Do you want to get married?” I ask. I’m confused as to why this is the immediate follow-up to being happy we’re pregnant.
“We’re having a baby,” he replies as if that’s an answer.
“Well, there’s a romantic proposal,” I say, nodding because clearly.
He grunts. “Well, I mean, it seems like we should be hitched if we’re having a kid.”
I hear the question in his voice and decide to fuck with him a little. Since I’m hormonal anyway, I let the lovey-girl-aww-squish thoughts help me bubble up some legit tears in my eyes. “I didn’t think—that is, I wasn’t sure if it was your thing, but if you’re into it?”
He’s hiding it, but I can see the terror building in his mind. Fox clearly tries to swallow a boulder. “Y-you’re it for me, Lolls. Of course I am.” He means it, but he also thinks he’s in for it.
I wipe my eyes after pushing some more tears out. “Oh, wow. Well”—I pause to inhale all the energy I’ll need to completely bullshit his face off—“I’ve always secretly wanted a huge wedding.”
His eyes widen ever so slightly, but they’re twitching. “Really?” His voice is calm, which means all his play-along effort is there. Makes sense, since his toe has started tapping and he’s scratching at a mosquito bite enough to make it bleed.
“Oh, yeah. I’m not the girlie-girl type—”
“Which I love about you,” he interjects, and I frown. He rushes to add, “But whatever you want, I’m fine with!”
“Okay, just tell me what you think of my idea,” I say, keeping my voice on an even keel as much as I can while getting excited—mostly because he’s shitting his pants. “The ceremony can be at the cathedral in Santa Rosa—I think the Redwood Country Club is right on the cliff. The view will be so amazing, our guests will piss themselves.”
He can’t hide his “WTF?” expression and I nearly lose it. However, I soldier on as he doesn’t seem to notice my slip.
“That chef from San Francisco that was on the news last week? She does catering, so I thought we could blow it out and hire her. We’d better book now, though. She’s already got a year waiting list. We’ll have to pay for her travel, though, too.”
I distinctly hear a whimper as he backs up and sits down on the couch, head in hands.
“You don’t think so? She does French, Italian, all styles of Asian, standard American. She’s got an amazing knack for customizing menus.”
“No, no, sounds great!” he declares from his “head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye” position. “You know I’ll eat any of it.”
I cough again, because not laughing is not an option. “Sweet!” I say, high-pitched and overexcited. “Okay, so I was thinking we’d arrive at the reception in a carriage, gilded silver, but ya know, depending on budget, of course.”
“Of course.” He’s not even trying now. In fact, he might be this close to hyperventilating.
“But Nora knows a guy with stables so we might have a hookup.”
“Thank Christ.”
“Oh! And a huge cake. Like, nine tiers, lots of frosting. No flowers and stuff, but maybe waves all over it, you know? Made of frosting. We can be on surfboards on top.”
“Really?” He perks. It takes everything I have not to look at him funny. I barely manage to nod and grin. Fox’s lips tilt into a smile. “That’d be really awesome. I like that.”
“Perfect!” I nearly shout—have to get him back on the “holy shit, my girlfriend is already a bridezilla” fear factor. I throw in some extra flaily arms and continue to pace, bouncing and shimmying randomly. I peek at him and he’s covering his mouth with both hands. I am not deterred. “I’m hoping I can get Daniel—you know, Iris’s husband? I’m thinking he can do a set of ice sculptures, too. Aaaand, her aunt has a friend who owns a flower shop who can do all the flowers. Lilies everywhere! And, oh my God, my dress! It’ll be a huge pouf like Cinderella. But strapless with lots of bling on the bodice. Maybe even some sparkly details on the skirt and the veil. And I want the train to be carried by our maid of honor and best man. It’ll be too long to drag behind me. Do you think nine bridesmaids is too many? I just don’t want to leave out my mom’s third cousin.”
I stop, cracking a smile. I’m trying to indicate this is all bullshit, but Fox is not moving. Maybe catatonic. He looks more scared than the time his uncle Jack left him in the company warehouse for four hours before he remembered where Fox was. Jack was never allowed to babysit again.
“Burning nipple twisters, lover, I’m kidding!” I wave my hands in front of his face. I had my fun—and a lot of it. “I just wanted to take advantage of the ovaries before they sputter out like an ancient lawn mower. I wasn’t asking to get all Disney princess up in this bitch. Not to mention, this is not 1958. Ain’t no shotgun weddin’ here.” I’m sure to add my favorite hillbilly accent to the last bit.
His entire body slumps into the couch, his head flopping over the back. I’d have thought he’d fainted if his eyes weren’t still on me. He exhales and pants for a minute like he was holding his breath the entire time I ranted about my perfect wedding needs. “You really scared me, Lolls.”
“First time for everything, I guess,” I say.
“Not the first time.”
“No?”
“When you first told me you were pregnant,” he begins, dead serious. “I realized we were done and I was in love with you. That’s why I—”
“Hey.” I walk over and lean on his thighs. He peers through his lashes at me. “I know why, babe. If you think that’s bad, wait till the kid comes out. We’re both fucked, you know.”
He grins before leaning forward and kissing me quick. “Truth.”
I stand tall and gesticulate wildly to bring the mood back to fun. “But who’d have thought you’d take all that wedding bullshit seriously? It’s like you don’t even know me.” I side-eye him and wink.
“You sold it! I love you and all, but that performance might have—”
“Taken the cake?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Your puns are the worst.”
I agree. “True. But at least you still love me.”
He smirks, but soon it falls. He gets serious. “So do you not want to marry me?”
My face goes slack, my eyes wide. He seems concerned. I realize for the first time that Fox may have a slight traditional streak running through him. It’s surprising but I’m glad it’s not dominant. I like my Fox left of center.
“I didn’t mean that I wouldn’t want to,” I say, moving to straddle his lap. “If I was going to marry anyone, you’re tops on my list.”
“After Chris Hemsworth,” he deadpans.
“Of course, but he’s already married, so I missed out on that one.”
“So you would?”
“If you asked me for real.”
He hums. “A legit, serious business proposal?”
“A business proposal doesn’t sound very romantic,” I quip.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters, grinning.
“You know you love it.”
His face relaxes with contentment, his eyes dancing. “I love you. Impossibly.”
“Not so impossible. Three separate people have said ‘it’s about time’ to me recently.” My upper lip curls into a snarl. “Fuckers. It’s rude, right?”
Fox just smiles. “So you would marry me?”
I smile and kiss him hard before pulling back just enough to tell him quietly, “Yes, I would. When the timing’s right.”
“You think I’m marriage material, then?”
“Absolutely not. But I’m all in, anyway,” I say with a wink before leaning in to bite his earlobe. He groans. I feel one hand lock onto my knee and the fingertips of the other sink into my rear cheek. “Kidding,” I whisper. “You’re the perfect partner to spend my life with.”
He rolls his hips, pushing a denim-clad semi against my pu-swah. “Are you at the horny preggo stage yet?” he asks and runs his tongue over his lips in rapid swipes.
“You mean the extra-horny-all-the-time stage?” I feel the hand on my knee sliding up my inner thigh.
“YEEEEESSSSSS!”
“No.”
His hands fall away. His visible disappointment is heartbreaking… ly hilarious. “Oh. Okay. Just, ya know, let me know. I’m up for it.”
I grip his shoulders and grind on him like it’s my job. “That doesn’t mean I can’t have a high sex drive.”
Fox’s eyes light up so much the hazel one looks like it’s laced with gold. His hands fly to my hips, flexing hard to keep me moving just like I am. “Right now?”
“Right. The fuck. Now.”