For some reason, I wasn't entirely happy with chapter 20, so I've added a few more lines here of there to make it flow better. You don't have to reread it unless you want to -- it's just me being obsessive. I'm a usually a fanatic drafter, so after I post something, I keep thinking of stuff I should have included...
Chapter 20. So Much For Separate Beds
The morning after they had sex for the first time, Kate woke to the sensation of Jack nuzzling her neck, whispering her name against her ear.
"Hmm?" she managed, opening her eyes slowly to find him propped on his elbow, leaning over her with a lop-sided grin.
"Time to get up." He reached down and swept the mess of curls from her face, his expression so full of affection that it made her heart soar with happiness. He loved her, he'd said so last night.
Shielding her eyes, she glanced over at the clock. It was almost seven; she had half an hour until she had to be on the subway. "Do we have to?" she complained, wishing she could just forget everything else, and bask in the warmth of his arms a little longer. It was a big day for them; they should be able to enjoy it, without reality forcing its way in.
"You don't, but I do," he said, disentangling himself from her when she tried to drag him back to her side of the bed. "I still have exams, and unless you want me to fail…" He pulled on his jeans, and with a slightly longer kiss than was necessary, slid out from under the covers.
There was no getting around the fact that they both had places to be, so she joined him in the kitchen, and they ate breakfast together before kissing again, and going their separate ways.
"See you tonight," he murmured against her lips as they parted on the sidewalk, and there was no denying that what would once have been an innocuous comment was now loaded with hidden meaning.
"Good luck," she told him as he released her, and she meant it; she didn't know how he thought he would be able to concentrate today when she could barely take an order without zoning.
She was too happy to care whether the coffee was too cold, or the fries were too salty, switching over to autopilot so that she could let her mind wander back to the night before. In spite of the lead up, the sex itself hadn't been that great; clumsy and quick, with neither of them knowing how to prolong it; but the part afterwards, where he'd held her and told her that he loved her, that was perfect.
The second time, that night, was a little better.
Now that they both had a clearer idea of what they were in for, there wasn't as much of a rush to get to the end; they spent more time kissing and touching beforehand, letting their hands rove over the contours of each other's bodies.
It was amazing to Kate, that something that had threatened to ruin her life could also give her pleasure, but Jack was so sweet and attentive throughout, so concerned about making it good for her too, that she felt loved and wanted in a way she'd never experienced before.
She'd meant what she said about separate beds, but somehow, Jack kept finding his way into hers, and she couldn't seem to muster the will to send him back to the couch, especially after they made love. So he stayed, and they went back to sleeping together, not just on the nights they had sex, but on the nights they remained fully clothed as well.
She knew she should remind him of the boundaries she'd set, before it really did turn into a kind of marriage, but she was having too much fun, especially now that he was living there too. In addition to sleeping together, they cooked together, cleaned together, bought groceries together, even showered together on occasion, now that the initial awkwardness of seeing each other naked had faded.
Marc had gone back to L.A. for the summer, so now that it was just them, the only time they left each other's company was during work hours: to help pay his half of the rent, Jack had taken an administrative job at a doctor's surgery not far from the diner. He hated it almost as much as she hated hers, but it was the only way that he could justify not going home to his parents.
By the time Kate reached the tenth week in her pregnancy, it was all but decided: in a little over six months, they would be parents. She still wasn't sure that it was what she wanted, that she wasn't just resisting definitive action for fear of hurting both herself and Jack, but with no more excuses, she had no choice but to give in to his wheedling and make an appointment to see a doctor at the clinic near the diner. It was just after twelve, so he was meeting her there on his lunch break, and finally, they would both see the baby.
Jack was running late, so they let her through first, and she sat on the table in the thin paper gown, staring at a foetal growth chart blue-tacked to the wall. This close to three months, her baby would have a face, complete with eyelids; studying the sketch in front of her, she couldn't help wondering if the eyes behind them had a colour yet, and if they would be blue and leering when they looked at her, like Wayne's. Somehow, she could never picture the baby taking after her.
Jack was out of breath when he came in, kissing her and taking a seat while the doctor took her blood pressure and measured her heart rate, asking her a lot of questions before finally telling her to lie back and lift up her gown. It was all a little hurried and impersonal, but Kate was relieved to escape the pleasantries. She didn't want to talk about names and gender preferences or how her family had reacted to the news; she didn't even particularly want to be there under the harsh fluorescent lights with all those half-formed baby faces peering down at her from the wall.
The whole experience was beginning to make her feel sick, not least of all because the detached way the doctor told her to lift up her gown reminded her of Wayne.
He poked and prodded at her for a few minutes, and she had to resist the urge to push his hands away, because they weren't tender and loving when they touched her, like Jack's, but the hands of someone who didn't care how uncomfortable he was making her feel. She wanted to tell him to stop, to get away, but she knew he wouldn't listen.
Jack seemed to sense her panic, even if he misunderstood the cause, because he crept over to her side as soon as the doctor finished examining her, taking her hand and giving her a reassuring smile. "We're almost there. He's just going to put some of that gel on your stomach, to make the wand move easier," he explained, talking her through the doctor's movements. "It'll be cold, but it won't hurt."
She offered him a small, grateful smile in return, flinching when the gel touched her skin. She wanted to put on a brave face for him, but the room felt really small all of a sudden, the air thick and suffocatingly dry.
She wasn't ready to look, so she squeezed her eyes shut as a picture appeared on the monitor. She could hear him telling her not to be afraid, that it was all okay, but she couldn't bring herself to open them, to see it, because that would make it all so much harder. Her behaviour was confusing him, she knew, she could hear it in his voice, but she kept them firmly shut until the doctor took the wand away, focusing on the warmth of his hand rather than the steady throb she knew must be the baby's heart.