Chapter Four

Jen

 

We made our way to Dylan’s truck. He’d replaced the crappy car by summer with a vintage 4x4. He opened my door, I climbed in with help from the running board, and he made sure all parts were out of the way before shutting it and going around to the driver’s side.

He revved the engine to encourage it, then flipped the heater on.

Like any night with the band, we ended up at his apartment. Not much had changed from a year ago except there was a throw blanket on the sofa and I had a drawer in his custom closet.

My car was in guest parking.

Living two hours apart…

“Hungry? Thirsty?” he asked.

“No. I just want to go to bed.”

My feet hurt from the concert.

My brain ached from the whirlwind of tonight.

He’d showered at the venue before joining us in the limo, so we went through our nightly routine of teeth-brushing and cleaning faces. Well, I removed my makeup and lotioned. He was in bed in his boxer-briefs before I was done. Which included peeing again.

How did a tiny speck of life already affect my bladder so much?

When I lay down, he didn’t immediately wrap around me like usual. I rolled to face him and kissed his lips. “Goodnight.”

He caressed my cheek. “Goodnight, Jen.”

I switched to my left side that had become more comfortable in pregnancy. He didn’t spoon. Did I want him to?

I reached for his arm and settled it where it belonged.

He sighed into my hair, relief and contentment.

The first major fight is scary. Part of you wonders if your relationship will survive it even when you know your bond is stronger than that moment of anger.

My ex sulked. He had a flash-in-the-pan temper even before the drinking, then would have petulant hours to a full day before he’d moved on from whatever it was. In our good years, I just accepted it as his nature. I was quick to move on from disagreements, wanting peace, and he was different.

But now my hormones were maybe making me a little touchy and I didn’t yet know Dylan’s fighting style. He hadn’t raised his voice much. Didn’t go dirty. Maybe had a long fuse and then an explosion. It was something we should probably talk about before walking down the aisle—whether that was in weeks or years from now.

“Honey?”

“Hm?”

“Never mind. It can wait.”

“Wha’?”

“Go back to sleep.”

His breathing deepened, never fully awake in the first place.

I wished I was as lucky.

My mind wouldn’t shut up about all the decisions about the future to make.