“I haven’t brought any of my shit over yet,” he says.
We walk into a large, empty bedroom with a huge window that lets in so much sunlight I wish I had my sunglasses with me.
“No, really?” I tease, wandering around the bare room. I approach the window and peer out. “Oh nice. Your room’s got the fire escape.”
“And even nicer—it leads right up to a roof patio. Only the tenth floor apartments have access to it. There’s a barbecue up there, and lots of patio furniture.”
“Oooh, that’s awesome.”
We head back to the kitchen, where Tucker opens the fridge to survey the contents. “You want something to drink? There’s OJ, milk, and water. And a shit ton of beer, but you don’t get to drink that.”
“I’ll take a water.” As he pulls a pitcher out and pours me a glass, I run a hand over the spotless countertops. “It’s super clean in here.”
“Yup. One of Brody’s redeeming qualities is that he likes things clean. You know, because chicks are turned off by clothes on the floor.”
“He’s not wrong.”
“That dude’s entire decision tree consists of ‘will this get me laid?’”
I grin. “Predictability can be nice.”
“Mind if I have a beer?”
“Knock yourself out. Where is he, anyway? At work?”
“Yup. He works nine-to-five at Morgan Stanley. He’s in financial planning, which, from all I can figure out, is basically selling annuities to old people.”
I sip on my water while Tucker cracks open a beer for himself. On the counter near the microwave are a bunch of colorful brochures stacked on top of inch-thick binders.
“What are these?” I trace my fingers over the top one that says ‘Fitness. Your Time. Her Time. Any Time.’
“More prospectuses. Or is it prospectii? I picked this stuff up the other day during a business research expedition.” He paws through the stack, flicking one toward me. “This is for a women’s waxing and laser treatment business. Hollis said that it’s like being a gyno without having to go through med school. Pussy for days.”
My lips twitch. “He knows that just because he’s waxing a girl’s private parts doesn’t mean he gets to touch them again, right?”
“No, I’m pretty sure he thinks it gives him a free pass to fuck them.”
“Lovely.”
I leaf through a couple of glossy pictures of long hairless legs set next to bold type that declares this particular laser is the next best thing. Hmmm. If Tucker buys a laser hair-removal salon, maybe he’d offer me the services for free. Already, my growing belly is starting to make simple tasks difficult. I have to sit down to shave because I’m afraid of tipping over doing my one-legged, flamingo grooming dance in the shower.
Tucker flips over another brochure. “This one is to sell shovels. Door to door.”
I grimace. “That sounds terrible. There’s money in that?”
“According to the franchise documents, yep, but I have my doubts.”
“What else do you have?”
“Sex toys, laundromat, fitness clubs, a bazillion food options. Fast casual is all the rage.”
“You sound enthused by a whole big zero of them.”
“I know.” He scoops the pamphlets into a pile and tosses them into a recycling bin. “Maybe a franchise isn’t for me.”
I nibble on my bottom lip, hesitating for a moment. “What would you be doing if it weren’t for this?” I circle my hand around my belly.
“Stringing myself up by my tie,” he says. “Mom wanted me to buy the local realtor’s business—”
I bite my lip even harder.
“—but I’d rather be waxing some guy’s ass crack than selling houses in Patterson, so you can get that anxious look off your face.”
His gaze strays to my belly again. Since the ultrasound, he can’t stop staring at it. I’m not much better. I always have my hand over the curve or under it, and now it feels even more special because I know my baby girl is right beneath my palm.
I climb onto the counter stool and gesture for him to come closer. “Wanna touch?”
“Always.” He swings around the counter to squat down in front of me, his hands framing the bump on either side. “Hey gorgeous. Daddy’s here.” He peers up at me, auburn hair tousled, light-brown eyes full of affection. “Has she been kicking at all?”
“Some.” I pull his hand to the side where the baby often tries to kick her way out of my uterus. “Try here.”