Title: This Thing About Birthdays

Author: Andrea

Rating: R … yes, it FINALLY lives up to its rating.

Summary: It's Abby birthday, and Carter's got all kinds of tricks up his sleeve.

Author's Note: Big assload of thanks to Kelly # 2 and Catherine. So anyway, here's the long awaited chapter 7. Beware of the "cliffhanger." I'll try to get the next chapter up soon. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

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This Thing About Birthdays

Part I

Chapter 7: Bubble Bath for Two

The mood is set. There are lit candles set on various surfaces of the bathroom, creating a soft glow. Hot water cascades into the tub, creating a mountain of bubbles.

Abby's taken off her new clothes, and is wearing one of the plush white robes provided by the hotel as she pins her hair up, waiting for the bath to be ready.

I put one foot in the tub, testing the temperature. It feels just right to me. "Abby, your bath awaits you," I tell her. In an effort to be chivalrous, I reach my hand out to her as I attempt to step in the tub. But before she can take my hand, somewhere between stretching my arm out and lifting my foot off the tile floor of the bathroom, I lose my balance. I feel the foot that is in the tub start to slip, and try desperately to right myself because either I'm going to land right on my head and give myself a concussion. Or I'm going to land on my … not my head, and give myself a far worse condition than swelling in the brain. Luckily, I'm no stranger to falling on my ass, so I manage to throw my weight to the side and land face-first, but unharmed, under that mountain of bubbles. When I lift my head, spluttering bubbles out of my mouth, I look over to find Abby red-faced and teary-eyed because she's trying so hard not to laugh.

"Are ... are … you …okay?" She somehow manages to choke out. As soon as I nod in affirmation, the laughter breaks loose. I sit up in the tub, trying hard to find my dignity. Of course that's kinda hard when there are bubbles in your hair, bubbles up your nose, bubbles in your ears. When Abby finally manages to stop laughing, she comes over to the tub and sits on the edge. She runs her hands through my messy, wet, bubble-covered hair and says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you. It's just it was so …"

"Funny?" I supply.

"Well, yeah. Good thing I'm not marrying you for your grace and poise." She's teasing me. But then her face turns serious. "Are you sure you're okay? You didn't hurt yourself at all?"

"Nope, just my pride."

"But you're so adorable when you fall over your own two feet." She leans over and kisses my forehead before standing up to remove her robe. "But you know John, you really do have to be more careful." Abby somehow manages to step in the tub with plenty of poise and grace and then settle down to sit in front of me, her back to my chest. "After all, I want more children, you know."

"Really?" I ask, pleased at the notion of at least a couple babies in our future.

"Of course you should be careful. If you'd landed the way I thought you were going to land, I wouldn't be getting that birthday gift I've been eagerly anticipating all day after all. So it was a good save. And the look on your face under all those bubbles …" She starts giggling again. Well, at least I made her laugh on her birthday.

"That's not what I meant, Abby." I tell her as I lean forward to kiss her shoulder. "I was talking about that other thing you said. You know, about wanting more kids." I rest my hand on the round swell of our first baby, still nestled safely inside its mother.

"Oh."

"Did you mean that?" This is something we haven't really talked about. Of course, we never really talked about having kids in the first place -- we just found out we were having one. So why on earth would we have discussed how many we might eventually want?

"Well, I at least want the option."

"What does that mean? You do or you don't want more?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it, I guess. I just want to concentrate on this one for now." Her hand joins mine on her swollen tummy. "We'll see how it goes, and then we can decide about having others."

"But it's definitely a possibility?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Good."

"Why? How many do you want?" She sounds little nervous, like maybe I'm going to suggests a baker's dozen or something. Although the thought of a dozen more little Abbys really isn't that scary.

"I don't know. More than one, probably. But I'm fine with waiting to see how things go before we decide. And like you said, for right now, we should just concentrate on the one we have." We both spend a few moments communing with her naked belly and the little person who lives in there, lost in our own thoughts. Finally, I voice mine. "I remember the day you told me you were pregnant. It seems like such a long time ago. And on the other hand, it seems like yesterday."

"I don't think I'll ever forget that day. I've never been so nervous in my life."

"Nervous? Why?"

"Why? Well, as if taking that pregnancy test was nerve-wracking enough, I was scared to death to tell you."

I laugh. Scared to tell me? I can't imagine why. "What did you think I was going to do? Run screaming from the room?"

"I had no idea what you would do. That was the problem. It's not like we'd talked about it, much less planned it. I was afraid you'd be mad."

"Mad? How could I be mad about the best thing that ever happened to me?"

"Well, I didn't know that when I told you you'd start grinning and get all teary-eyed. I didn't know that your prevailing emotion would be excitement. I thought you'd be more … shocked. Maybe upset. Definitely confused. God knows I was."

"You were? Really? You hid it well."

"I did? It wasn't on purpose because, believe me, I was definitely in a state of shock. Absolutely. I didn't expect that test to be positive."

"You didn't have any inkling that you might be pregnant before you took the test? I thought you'd just had enough time to get used to the possibility."

"No, oddly enough, I didn't really think I was pregnant. I should have known. But I didn't. I had no idea."

"Then how come you took the test?"

"Didn't I ever tell you this?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure I would have remembered this story."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I took the test pretty much on a whim. I was at the grocery store and I kept having these really intense reactions to the thought of various foods. It either made me feel famished or it made my stomach turn. And I couldn't understand why I would be having two such opposite feelings at the same time. Then I just happened to wander down an aisle full of pregnancy tests and when I saw them, I just started wondering. But I didn't think I was really pregnant. Never mind that I couldn't remember when my last period was, and that should have been a very big clue, I was just sure that it was all my imagination."

I grin and pat the little bulge that certainly is not all in Abby's imagination. She giggles, probably thinking the same thing I am.

"So anyway," Abby continues, "I took the test, basically, to put my mind at ease. I knew that it would be a nagging question in the back of my mind until I knew for sure. But I really though it was just to prove to myself that I wasn't pregnant."

"I can see where you must have been shocked when it was positive."

"Yeah, I was. But you know, it's funny … because I was happy too."

"Why is that funny?"

"Because I thought I wanted the test to be negative. I mean, there were a million reasons not to want to be pregnant. The timing sucked. We were together, but I wasn't exactly sure where we stood. We'd never discussed having children, even theoretically. And motherhood in general has always been something that scared the hell out of me. Not because I don't like kids or was scared of the responsibility, but because between my mother's disease, my own insecurities, not to mention lacking an example of good parenting in my life, I just wasn't sure I'd ever feel ready."

"But then you must have changed your mind. Because by the time you told me, you seemed pretty happy about it."

"Yeah, by the time I told you, I knew I wanted to have the baby. At that point, I was just worried about your reaction. Well, I was worried about other things too, but mostly, right then, I was worried about how you would react. I mean, what if you didn't want it?"

"Never. There's no way I wouldn't want a child that's yours and mine."

"Well, I know that now. But at the time … well, I couldn't begin to guess how you would react because I hadn't even been able to predict my own reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"Well …you know when you take the test, you have to wait a couple minutes for the results. So I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, going crazy … and I kinda peeked too early. The way the test worked was that you'd get one line if it was negative and two if it was positive. And I just couldn't stand the suspense, so I looked. Too soon. And there was just one line. So I thought it was negative. And burst into tears because I was … disappointed. I hadn't anticipated that. I thought I'd be relieved. But I wasn't. It was crazy because I hadn't expected, or wanted, it to be positive. I didn't think that I wanted to be pregnant. But I guess, deep down, I did. Because when I thought I wasn't …

"So I cried for a few minutes and then I got myself together and was just about to throw the test away when I noticed that there was second line. And I was shocked. Not only because I'd just been sure that the results were negative, but because I'd never really thought a positive test was possible in the first place. Well, of course it was possible, but I didn't think it was likely. And if it was positive, I thought that's when I would be crying. But that wasn't the case at all. I laughed. I was happy when I realized I was pregnant. I could have a baby, if I wanted. And somehow, after the disappointment thinking that I wasn't pregnant, I knew it was what I wanted. I wanted to have the baby. I don't know how to explain it. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the timing, not my fears. Somehow, it just felt right. Having your baby. The only thing I was worried about was how you were going to take it."

"But I was thrilled."

"Yeah." She still has her back to me, allowing her to recline against my chest. Our hands are still interlocked over her belly. But I can hear the smile in her voice. I hesitate to say what I'm thinking, but there's a question that I really want to ask.

"Why do you think that it was different … this time?" I'm reluctant to mention it, knowing that she doesn't really like to be reminded of the abortion. She'd told me about it somewhat reluctantly just a few days after she'd told me about our pregnancy. I'd come home one night to find her sitting in the dark, crying quietly. My heart leapt into my throat because I thought she'd had a miscarriage. I couldn't imagine what else would leave her crying in the dark. But when I went to her and put my arms around her, she'd assured me that yes, our baby was fine, but no, she wasn't exactly okay. And then she'd told me the whole story. We really hadn't mentioned it since … but I can't help but wonder what changed for her between then and now.

"Well, this time … it was your baby. Our baby. Like you said, a child of yours and mine. A part of each of us fused together. I could never just … get rid of something that grew out of our love. Besides, I'm at a different place now than I was then. I'm stronger, healthier. Due, in part to you … and us. And I felt like this baby was a tangible representation of all that's gone right with my life. My little love child. A child that I made with my best friend … the only man I've ever really loved. And that makes all the difference in the world."

"Oh." I don't really have any response beyond that. She's rendered me speechless, yet again.

I lean forward as Abby leans back, both of us twisting around a little, making it possible for our lips to meet in a soft, but passionate kiss. As we've been relaxing here in the tub, strolling down memory lane, there's been quite a bit of stroking and caressing going on. I've paid careful attention to the bump that is the baby, but my hands have also wandered around the softness of the skin elsewhere on Abby's body. Now as we kiss, my hands slide up over her firmly rounded belly to cup her swollen, full breasts. Now that they are no longer sore, Abby's happy to let me play with them as much as I want. And with their new round fullness, I find them almost irresistible.

Actually, I find her entire body pretty irresistible these days. Not that I wasn't pretty much obsessed with her body before, but there's just something about her soft curves that drives me wild. As far as I'm concerned she's never looked sexier. Maybe it has something to do with her enhanced figure, maybe it has something to do with the way she glows and her radiant smile, or maybe it's just knowing that she's carrying my child. But whatever the reason, I just know I'm more than happy to indulge her hormonal surges whenever I can. Well, most of the time. When we'd been in that carriage earlier, Abby was more than a little frisky. She kept trying to move my hands to various parts of her body that somehow I didn't think I should be touching out in public in front of God and everyone else. But here, in the privacy of our hotel bathtub … well, that's a whole other story.

As my hands continue to fondle her breasts, coaxing the nipples to hardness, Abby drops her head back on my shoulder. Her back arches in response to my touch as her head turns to the side, nuzzling against my neck.

"Mmm, that feels nice." She says. Her own hands are lightly sliding up and down my thighs under the bubble filled water.

"You like this, huh?" I ask as I give the flesh beneath my hands a gentle squeeze.

"Uh-huh." The sound escapes her as a breathless moan. "I've been waiting all day to feel your hands on me, touching me."

"And how exactly does the birthday girl want to be touched?" I ask her in a deep, throaty voice.

"Uh … mmm," is the only response I get.

"Maybe like this?" I ask, slipping my fingers down to her ribcage and tickling her lightly. She giggles and squirms against me.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind ," she informs me with a laugh. I love making her laugh in intimate moments like these. Sometimes it has an even bigger effect on me than hearing her contented sighs and moans.

"Then how about this?" I run my hands down her sides, over her hips, and gently massage her thighs. Her skin is even softer and silkier than usual thanks to the foamy bubble bath. As I touch her, I feel her shiver. The water is still quite warm, so something tells me those are shivers of pleasure, rather than from a chill.

Her hands trail up my arms finding a resting place on my biceps while my fingers trace light patterns against the softness of her inner thigh. My right hand skims lightly over the pleasure zone between her legs several times, each time causing her to sigh and wiggle her hips or arch her back trying to establish more contact. Finally she seems unable to stand my teasing any longer, and she reaches down to grip my wrist tightly, effectively holding my hand in place, exactly where she wants it. At first I refuse to extend my fingers and touch her the way she desperately wants me too. But soon enough her whimpers and breathless pleas of "John, please!" make me relent. I slowly explore her sensitive flesh with gentle caresses. Her hands slide from my arms to behind my head where she holds on to my neck tightly, pushing my head down and turning her own head towards mine so that our lips can join in a sensuous kiss. All the while her body is responding to the rhythm of my fingers between her folds.

"Is this what you've been wanting all day?" I ask her, my voice low and seductive.

"Mmm, yes." She lets her hands slip away from me and fall limply into the heap of bubbles. "But … I need more." She looks at me through lust filled eyes, pleading with me. "Please."

I withdraw my fingers, allowing her to turn around and face me. She wraps her legs around my waist, and her arms around my neck, bringing her face to mine for another kiss. After a few moments, I feel one of her hands slip over my shoulder and between our bodies. Down over my chest and stomach until she manages to finally find the goal of her expedition. She grasps me tightly, slowly moving her hand up and down. I put my hands on either side of her waist, and slide her slick body against my own, raising her up off my lap slightly. She keeps a firm hold on me, guiding me inside her body at just the right angle as I slowly lower her back down, allowing her to fully encase my throbbing erection. For a moment she doesn't move, sits in my lap, fully impaled upon me, her legs wrapped tight around my waist. She lays her head against my shoulder, and I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, the bulge of her round belly against my own.

"This is what I've been wanting all day. This is what I've really been waiting for."

"Happy birthday, baby." I whisper as I feel her tight inner muscles massaging me.

It's no longer possible for me to remain still, just enjoying the feeling of being inside her. Now I'm the one who needs more. I begin moving slowly. With my hand on her hips, I help her body to move in harmony with my own rhythmic movements. We seem to get lost in the cascade of bubbles, water sloshing around us and over the side of the tub as our hunger for each other increases and this dance of ours swells in its pace. We can't seem to get enough of each other as we feast on each other's bodies -- licking, sucking, nuzzling, kissing, caressing whatever inch of flesh we can find. I can feel myself getting harder within her and I know I won't last much longer so I increase the speed. Abby matches me thrust for thrust, and I know she is getting close too.

Then I feel her arms wrap around my neck once again and pull my body even close to hers, as if she's literally trying to become a part of me. There's a humming in her throat that's getting louder and more urgent. Her chest is heaving against mine and her nails dig into the flesh of my back. For my part, I'm calling out her name louder and louder as the pressure and pleasure in my body becomes almost too much to bear. And then when I think I can't take another moment wit out release, she suddenly screams and all her movements immediately cease. She's completely still as her orgasm hits except for the pulsing of her inner walls which squeeze me so tightly that I find myself screaming her name as I explode into her. I feel a ripple of pleasure shimmer down her back as she lets out a shaky breath and falls against me.

Once again we are reduced to a motionless state. We remain there, locked in each other's embrace for several long, quiet moments.

"Happy birthday." I whisper, when I finally regain the power of speech.

She laughs. "Well it sure is now." She looks up and catches my eye. "Thank you. That was a pretty good birthday gift."

"Pretty good?" I ask, feigning outrage.

"Well, that was just round one, I have to leave some room for improvement, you know." She wriggles her hips as she giggles. I probably wouldn't be adverse to starting on round two now, but I feel a sudden shiver run through Abby that has nothing to do with the way I am massaging her back and butt, and everything to do with how cold the water has gotten.

"Water's cold. Maybe we should get out before we catch pneumonia." She rolls her eyes at me, but then reluctantly slips off me and glides to the other end of the tub where she begins to stand up. I remain where I am and just enjoy the view.

"What?" she demands, watching me watch her.

I shake my head. "Nothing. You're just … so beautiful." And she really is. Especially now. I find myself staring transfixed at the little bulge that appeared so recently. "I mean, you're just … so … beautiful." There's no other way to describe it.

She's laughing at me now. "Carter, don't you know that's what you're supposed to say when you're hoping to get lucky? Not afterwards. I mean, if that's build up for later on, I already told you … it's not necessary. You don't have to convince me of anything. You can take me anytime, anywhere. It's what I want most for my birthday. So you pretty much have a free pass to ride the Abby love train tonight. No random, gratuitous flattery necessary." Now I'm the one who's laughing. She pulls on her robe and ties it, then takes mine off the hook on back of the bathroom door. "You think you can handle getting out of the tub without damaging vital … uh … organs?" Her tone is playful as she holds out her hand to me. "Try not to pull me back in there, okay?"

"Ha ha." I say sarcastically, as I carefully step out of the tub. Abby holds my robe open for me and helps me slip it on. While I'm busy pulling it shut, she gives my butt a good-natured smack. "Hey, you're the one with the birthday, shouldn't I be spanking you?"

"Oh, Dr. Carter, you naughty boy. Maybe we can try that later. I don't have my whip, but …" She grins impishly as she heads out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I pull the plug on the bathtub drain and throw some towels on the floor to sop up the spilled water and then follow along behind Abby like a lovesick puppy dog. Am I mixing my metaphors? Oh well.

"Where's the food?" She asks impatiently, looking around the room like it should have magically appeared while we were otherwise occupied.

"You didn't really think it would be here when we got out of the tub did you? I mean, who would have been available to let room service in? And I don't know about you, but I wouldn't have really wanted them coming in and watching the show in the bathroom, anyway."

"Good point," she laughs. "So when is the food getting here?"

"As soon as I call and tell them to send it up."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She stands looking at me with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for me to do as instructed. I sit on the edge of the bed and call the front desk to arrange for our birthday feast to be brought upstairs. While I'm making the arrangements, I watch Abby begin lugging the bags containing the fruits of her shopping spree over to the bed. Time for show and tell, I guess. I put the phone down and turn to Abby.

"So you want to show me what you bought?"

"Do you really want to see?"

"Yeah, sure." Of course, even if I didn't want to see her purchases, I would have lied. Because Abby's sitting on her knees in the middle of the bed, looking like an excited little kid. She's obviously dying to show me whatever's in that bag. "Am I gonna get a fashion show?"

"Well that might be a bit of a problem with what I have here." I don't understand what she means until I see her pull a small yellow sleeper from the shopping bag.

"It's baby stuff."

"Yeah, I couldn't resist. I know I was supposed to be getting clothes for myself, but the baby stuff was right there next to the maternity clothes and … well, it's all just so cute."

"So tiny." I pick up the little footy pajamas and feel the soft cotton. "It's hard to imagine anyone can be so small."

"Small? You wouldn't think it was so small if something that's big enough to fit into that was going to come out of your body." I look at the little newborn-sized sleeper again and see it in a slightly different light this time.

"Okay, I see what you mean. But still …"

"Yeah, I know … look, look at these little t-shirts." Abby pulls one out of the package. "They look like doll clothes." Indeed, they do. I'm not sure I've ever seen clothes so small.

"What's with the sleeves?" T-shirts with cuffs?

"Oh, you turn those inside out and they become little mitts for the baby's hands. To keep it from scratching its face. Because, you know, newborns tend to pull their arms and hands up tight against their face." She demonstrates both the magic shirtsleeves for me as well as this popular newborn position. "Makes them feel more secure, I guess," she says of the latter.

"I never would have thought of that. Or to buy the right kind of t-shirts."

"Well, luckily I learned something all those years in OB. Besides, lots of newborn clothing comes with the little cuffs. See?" She proffers a newborn nightgown, white with a pastel print. Sure enough, it sports the same little cuffs. "Isn't it cute?" Abby asks with a wistful note in her voice. Normally not an attribute I would apply to Abby, but lately it seems that wistful, along with happy -- and do I even dare to say "carefree?" -- have become a part of Abby's personality. She's still my Abby full of tempestuous moments and occasionally overwhelmed by her worries, but now those darker moods are balanced by these lighter, sunnier times. Like now. She seems to be practically radiating happiness as she gives up on removing items one-by-one from the bag and instead holds it up and turns it over, dumping the contents on her lap. We spend the next few moments inspecting her purchases -- infant towel sets, receiving blankets, tiny little clothes in yellows and greens and whites.

"There's a lot of stuff here, babe." I tell her as we pack it all back into it's bag. She gives me a look that I'm not sure how to read.

"I know … but we didn't have anything. And I know it's a little bit early to worry about it … but still …"

"You had fun, huh?"

"Yeah." He face lights up as she answers. "Susan and I had a blast. But don't worry, you'll get a chance to go along next time … believe me, there's still plenty of stuff to get."

"Yeah, I guess there's really not that much here when you think about it. And if you had fun on your birthday shopping spree, that's all that really matters."

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way." Uh-oh. She leans over the edge of the bed and comes up with another bag. I watch its contents spill out much they way the other items did.

"Abby …"

"What?" She gives me her best innocent look. Probably one I'll be seeing on our child in a few years when he or she is trying to stay out of trouble.

"It's all pink and blue! Why did you buy all this pink and blue stuff? We're not going to need one half or the other. I mean, I guess if it's a girl we can use the blue stuff, but I don't think we should dress our son in pink. " She just rolls her eyes at me.

"We can always return the color we don't need. Or …"

"Or?"

"Save it for next time?"

Oh, well, I like that idea. Of course, what if next time it turns out to be the same sex as this time? Or what if there never is a next time? "There's no guarantee that we'll get one of each … so we may never need the blue stuff." She gives me a look. "Unless we do need the blue, then we might not ever need the pink. So we're back to having a bunch of stuff in the wrong color."

"Well, I know that. But since someone didn't want to find out the sex when we had the sonogram last week, I didn't know which color to buy."

"What's wrong with yellow? I like yellow."

"Nothing, I like yellow too. But I didn't want everything to be yellow. Especially if it's a girl. If we dress her in yellow, neutral clothes all the time, people will think she's a boy. I want to be able to dress my little girl in little girl clothes. Blue and yellow little girl outfits maybe … or cute little pink things. Like this." She holds up another little sleeper, this one in pink and with decidedly feminine additions like embroidered flowers on the collar.

I give Abby a suspicious look. "You? Want to dress the baby in something like that?"

She looks upset. "You don't like it."

"Well sure I like it. I just thought, you know … you're not exactly a pink kinda person."

"Just because I don't go around wearing pink all the time doesn't mean I wouldn't want to put my little girl in pink. Or at least something 'girly.' Not all the time, you know. I'll put her in overalls too. And just because something is obviously for a girl, it doesn't have to be all lace and frills. It can be feminine without being too cutesy. But at least while the baby is little, I want to dress my baby in pink. You know, as long as it's a girl." That gets a laugh from me, even though I know she's teasing me. "And of course if I knew whether it was a boy or a girl, I would have been able to buy just girl stuff or just boy stuff, but oh, no … we have to wait and be surprised."

"What's wrong with being surprised?"

"Oh, I don't know, I thought being pregnant in the first place was surprise enough."

"But Abby, don't you think it's fun, not knowing who's in there? Waiting until the baby is born to find out? I would think it would be a good incentive to get you through labor and delivery." I don't think she's buying it.

"Yeah, but it just makes it so much more complicated now. I mean, I had to buy pink and blue … we have to pick out a boy's name and a girl's name."

"No, just a girl's name." I give her a cheeky grin.

"You're still stuck on that whole 'the fourth' thing, huh?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know … it sounds a little … pompous? John Truman Carter IV."

"Well, it's not like we'd call him 'John Truman Carter IV.' 'John Truman Carter IV, go to bed.' Don't be silly, Abby."

"So what would we call him?"

"I don't know, Ab … maybe 'John' since that would be his name?"

"Because that's not confusing."

"Why would it be confusing? You call me Carter."

"Well, sure I call you Carter, but the rest of the world doesn't. And maybe it doesn't matter when Little John is in diapers or Johnny's in grade school, but what happens when he's sixteen and doesn't want to be called 'Little John' anymore? And you start getting each other's mail and phone calls … I'm telling you, it's asking for trouble."

"So no 'fourth,' huh? You're gonna break the family tradition …"

"Well … maybe not."

"You just said you didn't want him to have the same name as I do."

"I know. But, I do like the idea of naming him after his daddy. I just don't want to call him 'John.' Or JT. I do like 'Jack,' though. Maybe we could call him that."

"Like my dad?"

"Sure why not?"

"But then he'd have the same name as his grandfather."

"Well, so what? He'll also have the same name as his father and his great-grandfather. So why not have the same nickname as his grandpa? Unless your dad is planning to move in with us, I don't think it would be much of an issue. I mean, fifteen years from now when some giggling teenage girl calls up and asks for 'Jack,' I doubt I'll be thinking that she wants to talk to my father-in-law."

"Good point. Jack … yeah, I like it. That could work." I lean over and talk to the baby. "Hey, you in there … what do you think? You want to be 'Jack?'"

"Oh so now that we have a boy's name, you think it's a boy."

"No, I still think it's a girl. I guess we better get started on a girl's name, huh?"

"I think you better hold that thought."

"Why? What's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong. I think the food is here."

Sure enough, within a few seconds, there's a knock at the door, and a voice calls out , "Room service."

I get up to answer the door and look back at Abby, a look of confusion plastered to my face, I'm sure. How did she do that? I didn't hear a thing. She leans back against the bed, hands behind her head, and says, "I have my ways." Okay, now she's reading my mind. Kinda scary.

"So what do we have here?" Abby asks, approaching the table, once all the food has been laid out and we are alone again.

"Your birthday feast."

"I like the sound of that."

There are several different platters laid out on the table, all covered with a silver dome. And under each lid, one of Abby's current favorites can be found. Her face lights up seeing all the different dishes. I lift the lid on the first one.

"Hot wings!" She's very excited by this fact. Seems that lately this has become one of her main cravings. Not so bad. Until you watch her dip them in vanilla ice cream. She seems to think that makes perfect sense, that it's somehow like bleu cheese. "And onion rings too. Yum." At least she doesn't dip those in anything.

I lift up the next lid. "Pizza … deluxe with extra cheese?"

"Yep, just the way you like it." This earns me a kiss on the cheek and a hug. She wraps her arms around my waist from behind and puts her chin on my shoulder. Another platter revealed.

"Cheeseburgers!" Her voice is pretty well ecstatic now and she's literally jumping up and down. Just a little bit, as she's still holding on to me, but jumping nonetheless. "Oh God, if there's a milkshake under that next one, I'll love you forever."

With a flourish I remove the next lid. "Oh …" She's happy now and apparently going to have to love me forever, because there's not one, not two, but three different flavored milkshakes here. Chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. She loves them all. Although lately she's had quite and affinity for strawberries. Which leads to the next tray. A bowl of strawberries, a bigger bowl of whipped cream. But also bright-red maraschino cherries, sprinkles, chopped nuts, hot fudge …

"Where is it? Where's the ice cream?" She sounds a little bit panicked. Like if they've forgotten the ice cream, it's the end of the world. Certainly she'll never get ice cream again.

"Well, I'm sure it here somewhere." I lift the lid on the last tray. Two large bowls of ice cream. Abby's so excited that I think she might faint.

"Let's eat!" She sits down, and not surprisingly, pulls the ice cream towards her.

"Dessert first, huh?" I ask sitting down next to her, careful not to block her access to any of the food.

"No, ice cream first. Dessert comes … later." Her eyes slip toward the bed and a finger coated in whipped cream slips across my lips. Oh, I get it. I watch her load up the ice cream with various toppings, creating quite the sundae. She takes a moment to study her creations and then pushes one toward me. Maybe somewhat reluctantly, but I could just be imagining that.

"Don't worry, they've got lots of ice cream downstairs if you need more later."

"Mmm, hot fudge sundaes …" Her eyes are closed in ecstasy and for a moment she seems even more rapturous than she was during our little dalliance in the tub. Apparently it's a very close call between me and a pint of rocky road. But then her eyes open and she reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Thank you. This is great. Really great. The best birthday I've ever had. I can't believe you did all this for me. Went to all this trouble … just for my birthday." And it's not even over yet. But I don't tell her that there's more to come.

I just squeeze her hand in return and tell her in all honesty, "You're worth it, Abby. You are so worth it."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Happy birthday."

She smiles at me and then returns to her ice cream. Then we move on to the pizza and wings. The onion rings and cheeseburgers. And of course the shakes. None of the food actually gets finished, but that's not the point. Besides, we can stick it in the fridge and save it for later. Something tells me we won't be venturing out into the world much these next few days.

When Abby's had her fill of the birthday feast, she gets up from her own chair and moves over to mine, settling on my lap, giving me another thank you hug and kiss. But the kiss turns into something more than a simple thank you. Seems like maybe it's time to work off some of the calories we've just consumed. But this time around, we can take it nice and slow.

I reach behind Abby to find the nearly full bowl of strawberries and the whipped cream. Abby pulls her lips from mine and turns to watch my movements as I languidly drag one of the ripe berries through the cream before holding it up to Abby's flushed lips. I slowly rub the cream-covered fruit over her lips, watching as her tongue slips out of her mouth and licks up the sweet confection. She opens her mouth and sucks the firm fruit in, cleaning it, and my fingers of any remaining whipped cream with her deft tongue. She sucks vigorously on the strawberry, slowly turning it to pulp in her warm, wet mouth. Once the fruit has disappeared, she continues working on my fingers. The thought of her giving this treatment to another part of my body is enough to cause a stirring in my robe.

Abby giggles at the feeling and then reaches over for the strawberries and cream. She rests the bowl of whipped cream on her lap and drags a berry through the fluffy whiteness before bringing the sweetened fruit to my face and painting my lips, nose, chin, and cheeks with whipped cream. Of course then she has to use her tongue and lips to clean up the mess she made. Once she's done that, we find ourselves nibbling at the same berry, our lips infinitesimally close, but yet not quite touching. I reach for another strawberry, offering it to Abby, who greedily gobbles it up.

I'm reaching for another one when suddenly Abby's body stiffens in my arms. I hear her suck in a sharp gasping breath. The bowl of whipped cream tumbles to the floor as her hand flies to her swollen belly. At first I think it's one too many strawberries on top of the mountain of food she'd already consumed for dinner. But then I see the look on her face. Her expression is unreadable, and unlike any I've ever seen on her face before. She grabs my hand and squeezes it tight. She's biting her lip and tears well up in her eyes.

"John." Her voice is a strained whisper.

I've never been so scared in my life.