12 comments/ 7822 views/ 1 favorites You Never Know Ch. 03 By: govthooker78 I'm laughing at the comments about S. being an ass - hopefully he manages to redeem himself in the coming chapters. But maybe not. This chapter might be a bit controversial for some of you. I say you're entitled to your opinion, but just deal with it. All characters in this story are over the age of 18. * Five minutes later, I took my seat in the second pew on the right. I had told S. to count to twenty before emerging, and he followed my instructions, appearing just after I had settled myself into my seat. He strode to the altar, a new shirt nipped from the closet poking out from underneath his jacket, and took his place next to his brother, who looked from S. to me with an uninterpretable expression. I crossed and recrossed my legs nervously until I got a glare from an elderly woman across the aisle. "Sorry," I mouthed. I could still feel S.'s come slowly leaking out of me onto the inside of my dress. And then the music began to play. Everyone stood and turned to watch the flower girl, then the bridesmaids, then finally the bride, accompanied by her father, slowly walk up the aisle. I stared at S.'s soon-to-be-wife, hating her and pitying her at the same time. If I was in her position, and found out my fiancé had sex with another woman just moments before he married her...I couldn't even imagine. I loathed the fact that I was the other woman. But at the same time, I thought as I glanced up at S....I sort of enjoyed it, too. My cheeks burned as she walked past and I chose to stare at the back of the person seated in front of me. The priest rambled through his spiel and I bowed my head and shut my eyes until I heard him ask S. if he took this woman to be his lawfully wedded wife. I looked up and our gazes connected for a split second, and then S. said, "I do." Using my better judgment for once, I decided to skip the reception. I received a text from S. on my way home -- "Where are you?" I couldn't reply. Instead I texted my roommate, slowly typing out the letters -- "I just had sex with S." She responded within seconds -- "OMG what about the wedding??" "Still on," I answered. "He is married now. Skipped the reception and on my way home. Can't even deal with this." J. let me know that she would pick me up from the train station and I leaned my head back against the plastic seat, silent tears running down my cheeks. * * * About a month later, during which I received seven text messages from S., all some variation of "Please talk to me," I felt sharp pains in my stomach and nearly collapsed in the shower. I called in sick to work, took a taxi to the hospital, and the ER doctor informed me of what I already suspected -- I was about four weeks pregnant. I had meant to take the morning-after pill the day after the wedding, but amidst all the other turmoil I was feeling I had somehow forgotten. "Fuck," I whispered as the nurse came in to get some paperwork, and she patted my shoulder sympathetically. "Is there anyone I can call for you, sweetie?" I shook my head. J. was out of town, my parents were hundreds of miles away, and I couldn't think of another person to contact. Except S. I dialed the numbers slowly, reconsidering after every push of the button, until the receiver started to ring. At the sound of his deep, soothing voice, I almost broke down. "S.?" I whimpered. "I'm at the hospital. Can you come pick me up?" He immediately agreed and I sat on a bench outside until I saw his car pull alongside me. I stood slowly and leaned into the passenger-side window. "Can we talk before I get in?" I asked. "Because you might not want me anywhere near you after I tell you what I'm about to tell you." He looked confused but nodded, parked his car, and came back to the bench with me. After we sat in silence for several minutes, he turned to me, grabbed my hand, and asked me, point-blank, what was wrong. I swallowed hard. "S...." I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm pregnant." A few seconds of silence passed and I raised my eyes to his face. He looked shell-shocked, and I couldn't blame him. "B-but I thought you were on...birth control..." he said dazedly, and I shook my head. "I meant to get the morning-after pill," I explained, "but other things got in the way and then...it was too late." He dropped my hand roughly and cursed. "That's the kind of thing you make time for," he half-shouted, drawing the attention of a few patients making their way into the ER. "No matter what the hell else is going on. If there's a fucking earthquake that knocks down your house, you go do it." Tears sprang to my eyes again. "I know," I wailed, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, and I can still get it...get it taken care of, if that's what you want." He just stared at me as I sniffled, then he reached into his pocket and handed me a tissue. I dabbed at my eyes and he waited until I was done blowing my nose before speaking again. "No," he said, suddenly calm. "You're not getting an abortion." It was my turn to be shocked. "You're going to have this baby," he continued, "and I'm going to help you. And when it's time, I will be right there with you. You won't have to do a single thing alone." Fresh tears ran down my cheeks and he pulled another tissue out of his pocket. "You're perfect," I sobbed, barely coherent. "But what about your wife? Don't you want to have a baby with her? And how will she not find out about us, about this?" I asked, gesturing to my stomach. "I'll make sure of it," he assured me. "I work at odd hours. I'm away a lot. She'll never suspect a thing." He pecked me on the cheek and wiped the tears from my face. Deep down, I wanted him to say he was leaving her, but I knew I couldn't ask him to do that, not in good conscience. I still wanted to think I was a good person, although looking over my actions over the past couple of months, I couldn't say anyone else would see it that way. What am I going to tell people when I start to show?, I wondered. "Come on," S. said, helping me up. "I'll drive you home." The car ride back was silent, and I felt like I could sense anger behind his smooth, unemotional expression. But once we were inside my apartment and I mentioned I was going to take a shower, S. asked if he could join me. I stared at him in shock. "I think we could both use some refreshment," he said, stroking the side of my face. "We don't have to do anything. I'll even go after you if you want." I reached up and wrapped my hand around his wrist. "Come with me," I said, leading him into the bathroom. I turned on the faucet and while the water was heating up, I drew S.'s hands to my waist and kissed him softly, then more urgently as steam curled around the room. We undressed each other and he kept one hand on the small of my back as I stepped into the shower, like he was worried I'd slip. The caring gesture, and everything he was going to do for me, almost broke my heart, and I pressed my cheek to his chest and wrapped my arms around him. My back to the showerhead, I allowed the hot water to pour over my head, soaking my hair and drizzling down my spine. I lifted my face to the stream, relishing the feeling, like the water could wash away my sins. S. watched me, then lowered his head to meet my lips, and I felt a flame flare up inside me. My pulse quickened. With S.'s body wrapped around mine, I could feel his cock hardening against my stomach. I looked into those gorgeous green eyes and knew we were going to have sex again. But first, I wanted to do something else, something to show my gratitude. I slowly turned us so that I was facing the front of the shower, the water now pouring down on S., then carefully lowered myself to my knees. S. looked down and stared at me, a wide grin spreading across his face. I held his gaze as I steadied my hands on his hips and tasted the head of his cock. A deep moan escaped his lips and I smiled. If there was one thing I was good at, it was giving head. He had no idea what he was in for. I licked from the base to the tip and back again, cupping his balls in one hand. When his hips started to buck involuntarily, I gave in and slipped him inside my mouth and past my gag reflex, again and again until my nose was pressed into his pubic hair. I inhaled the scent of musky sweat and some kind of bar soap. S. was shuddering and gasping, one hand hanging onto the curtain rod, and I could feel his hardness twitching halfway down my throat. I gradually released him, going inch by inch until only the head was captured between my lips. My tongue grazed the tip and I felt his balls draw themselves up towards his body and his breath quicken. I took a deep breath and dove again, slipping his length back down my throat. S. let out a strangled cry and grabbed at my hair as his cock pulsed, every spasm sending a short spurt of come down into my stomach. I swallowed around him as he swelled, and I felt his hand ease back in the tangle of my wet hair. When he finally relaxed, I backed off until he emerged completely from my mouth with a pop, steadily softening. I licked my lips and S. helped me stand up. My knees were aching but it had been worth it. "Oh, my God," he mumbled, smiling crookedly at me. I grinned back. "Weren't expecting that, were you?" I asked coquettishly. He shook his head incredulously. "Where did you learn how to do that?" I shrugged a shoulder, turning off the cooling water and smiling to myself. I twisted back around to find him slowly beginning to harden again already. I raised my eyebrows and felt warmth and wetness gathering between my legs. "Quick recovery!" I exclaimed. S.'s green gaze bored into my eyes. He was breathing heavily. "You do this to me," he sighed, wrapping a hand around the base of his growing cock and closing his eyes. My lips quirked up at the corners. "Let's go to bed," I whispered. We wandered naked to my room. It was cool and shadowy in the afternoon light. I took S.'s big, calloused hands in mine and pulled him with me onto the bed. His warm breath tickled the little hairs at the nape of my neck. I shivered as droplets of water dripped from S.'s damp hair onto my skin. "I'll heat you up," he said, pulling the covers over our bodies. The pillows and sheets were getting wet but I didn't care. S. wrapped his arms around me and rubbed his solid erection between my legs, making my breath catch in my throat. He looked beautiful in the stripes of sunlight peeking through the curtains. "I still don't have a condom, but...I guess we don't really need one," he said, smirking. I shook my head, relieved that he was able to joke about it so soon. "Do you feel okay?" he asked me. "I feel perfect," I murmured. "You are perfect," he mumbled into my ear. S. nibbled gently on my earlobe and I sighed contentedly. He gazed into my eyes as he slid himself deep into my soaking wet center once again. We took it slow, enjoying ourselves, free of concern about time limits or intruders. S. seemed to last forever and I lost count of how many orgasms I had. His touch felt like electricity searing across my skin and gathering, crackling, at my core. After what seemed like hours of pleasure, he finally came in great surges, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut in ecstasy. S. drifted down unhurriedly and remained inside me until he softened enough to slip out against my inner thigh. He swept my damp hair aside and suckled gently at the unblemished white skin of my neck. I just breathed and enjoyed, purely happy in the moment. Playing with his curls, I whispered, "I love you." We fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms. You Never Know Ch. 04 Everyone in this story is over the age of 18. * About ten long weeks later, I was really starting to show and had to wear baggier and baggier clothes to hide it. I supposed everyone just thought I was indulging too much in Ben & Jerry's, but I knew that excuse wouldn't hold for much longer when my stomach was sticking out like a beach ball. J., a couple of other close friends, and S. were the only people who knew exactly what had caused my sudden weight gain. No one at work knew and I hadn't told my parents yet. I was avoiding talking to them like the plague, but I couldn't hide it from them for much longer. I was used to telling them nearly everything. S. came over almost every other day and often spent the night with me. I didn't know how he explained that to his wife, and I didn't ask. We had sex whenever my roommate was out of the apartment. We couldn't get enough of each other. S. always handled me carefully, like I was a doll, and he constantly made sure I was comfortable and healthy. He was at every doctor appointment and went shopping for baby clothes with me. He even researched sex positions during pregnancy, for when I was too big to handle most of the usual ones. One Saturday morning we were cuddling in my bed and I decided I couldn't wait any longer. I had to ask him. "S...." I murmured, glancing at him over my shoulder. "How is it that -- that you can be here with me so often? Doesn't she wonder where you are?" "I told you," he said, his fingers playing over my swelling stomach, "I'm out of the house for work a lot, so it's really nothing new." I sighed, and turned so that I was fully facing him. "S.," I said, looking directly into his eyes. He looked away. "It's not going well," he whispered. "She asked me for a divorce the other night." I gasped. "Oh, sweetie," I said. "I'm so sorry." Deep inside, I felt a spark of triumph, and I loathed myself for it. I buried my face in his shoulder, in case he could see the truth in my eyes, and rubbed his back. "What are you going to do?" I asked. He shrugged. "I don't know," S. said helplessly. "You're the first person I've told." Something occurred to me and I started. S. looked at me. "Does she know? About us?" I asked urgently. He inhaled. "I don't think so," he said carefully, "but I can't be absolutely certain. She might. But I don't think she could know everything, unless..." He trailed off and I shook his arm. "Unless what, S.?" "Unless my brother told her," he said reluctantly. "You told him? I thought I knew everyone who knew!" I cried. "I'll call him later," S. said. Then he looked at the expression on my face. "I mean right now!" He rolled off the bed and searched for his phone among the discarded clothing on the floor. I lay back and covered my face with my hands. "Did she tell you why she wanted a divorce?" I asked him, my voice muffled. "No," S. said, and I heard him press a couple of buttons on his phone. "That was all she said. She called me." My eyes widened between my fingers. She didn't even have the guts to tell him in person? I could have told S. about the baby over the phone, but I had worked up the nerve to tell him to his face. I moved my hands to my stomach protectively. "M.?" S. said on the phone. I propped myself up and watched him talking. "Listen, did you tell anyone about...about the pregnancy?" He whispered the last few words, as if someone was listening in. His face relaxed and I exhaled in relief. "Good," he said, reaching over and taking my hand. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I mean anyone, M." I could hear his brother talking on the other line. "I...I don't know. I guess so?" S. pressed his cell to his chest and whispered, "M. wants to know if he could take us out to dinner in the city." I considered. There was always the risk that someone who knew S. would see us -- which was why we rarely left the apartment together -- but it was a really nice offer and I didn't want to turn him down. "As long as it's somewhere...out of the way," I said, and S. squeezed my hand in understanding. "Sure, M.," he said, the phone back to his ear. "6:00? Okay. See you then." He hung up and plopped back down on the bed with me. "That should be fun," he said enthusiastically. "Yeah," I agreed. "That's really sweet of M. So...I guess he's...okay with all of this?" "All of what?" S. asked, chuckling. "You and me? And this?" He leaned over and kissed my stomach. I nodded. "Yeah, he's cool with it. Listen, I'm sorry I told him and didn't tell you that he knew. I'm just really close with my brother and he knew what happened at the wedding and all..." He trailed off. "You have nothing to be sorry for," I assured him. "We're having a baby, S. Both of us have the right to tell the people we love." I frowned a little. "What's wrong?" S. asked. By this point, he was good at picking up the changes in my mood. A little too good. "Nothing," I said, "it's just that...my parents don't know yet. I don't know how to tell them." I knew my mom might be a little more rational and under control about it. My dad would freak out. "I guess I'll tell my mom first and see how that goes." "That sounds like a good idea. Want me to be with you when you tell her? For moral support?" he asked. I smiled. "That would be great. Thank you." I leaned over and kissed him. We both glanced up when we heard J.'s keys jingling outside the door. "Hey!" she greeted us as we emerged into the hallway. "How are you guys? How's the little one?" She came up to me and squatted so she was even with my stomach. "Hi, baby!" She gave my bump a pat. "We're good," I told her. "S.'s brother is taking us out to dinner and I get to worry some more about telling my parents about the baby." J. grimaced. "You haven't told them yet? I'd do it soon...get it over with, like ripping off a Band-aid." I laughed. "Well, that's the plan. I guess we could call her tomorrow?" I said, looking over at S. He nodded. "Oh, you're going to tell her together?" J. asked, looking surprised. "No, not exactly. S. will be there, but I'm not sure my mom will want to talk to the guy who knocked me up," I joked. S. poked me good-humoredly and J. nodded understandingly. She had been great -- very supportive and helpful, especially when S. wasn't around -- throughout the past few months. "Well, I am going to make brunch for everyone -- all four of us," S. announced, kissing me on the cheek on his way past me into the kitchen. I smiled and cradled my belly. It was becoming a habit. I touched my stomach whenever I was worried, or happy, or just thinking about S. and I. J. watched me knowingly and grabbed my arm, gently pulling me into her room. "I want the dirt," she said in a hushed voice as soon as we were out of S.'s earshot. "What dirt?" "What's going on with S. and Her?" she asked urgently. J. always referred to S.'s wife as "Her." You could hear the capital H in the way she said it. I listened to make sure S. wasn't coming back. All I heard was clattering pots and pans, so I quietly closed her door until just a crack was left. "She asked him for a divorce the other night," I told her. J. almost shrieked but I managed to clap a hand over her mouth just in time and it came out as a muffled squeal. "Shh! He just told me a little while ago." I carefully removed my hand and J. sank back onto her bed. "Wow," she said. "Wow." "I know!" "You know what this means, right?" she asked me. I shook my head. "You can get married! As soon as the divorce is final!" she said excitedly. I raised my eyebrows. "Well, I don't know about that...I mean, I've definitely thought about it, but isn't jumping out of one marriage and right into another a bad idea?" "Not when the people getting married are perfect for each other!" J. exclaimed. I bit my lip and considered. "Besides, the divorce will probably take some time to finalize. It's not like you'd be getting hitched tomorrow." "Maybe," I said finally. J. beamed. "I'll start planning!" She pulled a giant stack of bridal magazines from underneath her bed. "Where did you get those?" I asked incredulously. J. shrugged. "All over. I started picking them up every now and then after you told me you were pregnant. I knew this would happen; I knew it was right for you guys," she chirped happily. I couldn't help but smile too. "Maybe," I repeated softly to myself. The scent of pancakes wafted in through the cracked door. My stomach had been sensitive lately but the baby seemed to like pancakes, and S. happened to be extremely good at making them. I inhaled contentedly. Everything was going just right. You Never Know Ch. 05 I'm going to continue with this story, despite the fact that everyone seems to hate it. You win some, you lose some. All characters are over the age of 18. Several hours later, S. and I took a cab to meet his brother at a small, out-of-the-way bistro downtown. I started fretting about how expensive the place looked, but S. calmed me down right away, assuring me that M. could afford it. "He's a lawyer, babe," he said, helping me out of the car. "He could buy everything on the menu if he wanted to." I remembered that M. had been wearing a really expensive suit at the wedding – Gucci or Prada, probably. He was a couple of years older than S., and I wondered how one brother could be so easygoing and free-spirited, while the other was more straitlaced and corporate. "You did both grow up in the same house, didn't you?" I asked S., and he laughed. "I think so!" He took me by the arm and led me inside. We spotted M. right away – he was seated at the best table in the house, centered where everyone could see him and far away from the kitchen and the windows. He stood as we approached. I suddenly felt nervous. He looked so formal in another high-end suit – I felt like I should curtsy, which would be extremely difficult with my ever-expanding stomach. I had attempted to hide it underneath an empire-waist dress, but that was getting harder to do every day. A waiter appeared out of nowhere and pulled my chair out for me. "Your menu, Madame," he said in a lilting accent, handing it to me. I raised my eyebrows at S. and replied, "Merci beaucoup, Monsieur, comment-allez vous ce soir?" The waiter grinned and started talking to me in rapid French. I blushed. "Je suis desolée, Monsieur, je parle seulement un peu de français." He looked a little disappointed. He probably had to deal with Americans who couldn't understand a word he said, even in English, every day. I smiled apologetically and he whisked himself off to the kitchen. "I didn't know you spoke any French!" S. exclaimed when he had disappeared. I giggled. "Oui, bien sûr, mon ami, j'adore le langue," I said, a little haltingly. My college French was a little rusty. "What did you say?" S. asked. "She said she secretly hates you and can't wait to get out of here," M. told him, smiling over his glass of wine. I laughed and S. shot him a mock-angry glare. "I said, 'Yes, of course, my friend, I love the language,'" I informed S. He nodded, looking fascinated. "Hey, how do you say 'I love you'?" he asked me. "That's easy. Je t'aime." He smiled and leaned in close. "Then je t'aime," he said softly, and pecked me on the cheek. I blushed again and M. demurely looked away. I cleared my throat and looked down at my menu. It was, of course, in French, and my memory wasn't that good. "M., you speak fluent French?" I asked. He nodded. "Okay, tell me what to order. I'm a vegetarian." The waiter appeared again and M. ordered for all three of us. Dinner was delicious and I only felt a twinge or two of nausea, which was a huge improvement over the past couple of days. The baby seemed to love not only pancakes, but any other food with the word 'cake' in it as well. I kept trying to eat more healthily, with fresh fruit and vegetables, but unless they were topping on a gâteau, like the one I ate for dessert, the baby wasn't having it. S. kept joking that he or she was going to come out covered in frosting. "So," M. said, leaning back and patting his mouth delicately as we waited for our wine (or, in my case, another glass of water). "Any name ideas yet? You know whether it's a boy or a girl?" I shook my head and smiled. "We're waiting to find out the sex. I'm hoping for a girl, though," I admitted. S. squeezed my hand under the table. "We're thinking Adrienne if it's a girl, or Samuel if it's a boy," he said. M. grinned. "Both androgynous names – could be Adrienne or Adrian, Samuel or Samantha." "I didn't even realize that," I laughed. "I guess we could go either way, then." The waiter brought our drinks with a slight bow and I sipped at my water. Then I felt a twinge in my stomach and I frowned. "What's wrong?" S. asked. He didn't miss a trick. It was almost like he could physically feel the changes in my mood. "I think – the baby just kicked!" I exclaimed. I grabbed S.'s hand and put it on my stomach where I had felt the unfamiliar sensation. He or she kicked again and a bright smile spread across S.'s face. "That's amazing," he whispered. "S.?" His hand suddenly clenched into a fist on top of my stomach and I glanced up to see his soon-to-be ex-wife. The euphoria I had just felt faded and was replaced with dread. S. and M. both looked like they were feeling the same thing. "V." S. said evenly. "What are you doing here?" V. didn't reply. She just stared at me. I stared back, trying not to allow any emotion to show on my face. Her eyes moved to my midsection and I could almost see the storm clouds move into her eyes. She started to shake visibly, turned on her heel, and half-ran out of the restaurant. S. stood. I wanted to grab his hand, hold him back, but I knew he had to talk to her, so I sat still and looked into my lap. M. got up too. "Give her another piece of cake," he muttered to our bewildered waiter as he approached our table with the bill. M. ran outside. I couldn't see from where I was seated, but I could pick up the tone of S.'s voice even over the street noise. It sounded like he was on the verge of shouting. I cringed and picked at the second slice in front of me, my appetite gone. I sorely wanted to know what was being said, especially about me, but I knew my presence would only make things worse. "Votre addition, Madame," the waiter said softly, placing the bill in front of me. I tried to smile at him, but I think it came out more like a grimace. I didn't dare look at the total price of the evening. I had a feeling it was much more expensive than I could imagine. M. came back into the restaurant alone. I stood, with some difficulty, and waited for the verdict. "S. needs to talk to her," he said crisply. He was all business again. "I'll put you in a cab home." "But...wait, well, is S. going to come back?" I asked helplessly. M. looked at me and his face softened. I'm sure I painted quite the pitiable picture at that moment. The pregnant youth – I was only 24, after all – standing alone in a restaurant like I'd been abandoned. So far during our relationship, I had never once felt deserted by S. This was the first time. Logically, I understood that he had to go after V., but the irrational, over-emotional, pregnant side of me was going crazy. "I'm sure he'll call you later," M. told me, awkwardly patting me on the shoulder. I sighed. "Listen," M. said softly. "I know my brother. S. is in love. And it's not with V." He caught my gaze and raised his eyebrows. "Trust me." I nodded uncertainly. "Okay, where's that cab?" You Never Know Ch. 06 Well, I'm finally giving in and giving them names, much as I am loath to do so. These are fake names. It would be too risky to use the real ones. All characters in this story are over the age of 18. * Seth didn't call me that night. I kept checking my phone, looking for a missed call, a voicemail, even a text from him. Nothing. Jen told me not to worry, and I tried to go to sleep, but I had grown accustomed to Seth's body wrapped around mine while I slept. The bed felt too empty. I rested my hands on my stomach and felt the baby kick every so often as I stared up at the dark ceiling. I woke early the next morning after a short and fitful sleep, wrought with unpleasant nightmares. I checked my phone before I even sat up. One missed call. My heart leapt, but it was from my mother, not Seth. At that moment, I wasn't sure if I'd ever see Seth. again. My dreams had shown me cruel images of Seth and Victoria together again, happy in their married life, and me alone, abandoned, a single mother struggling to make ends meet. My eyes filled with tears at the thought and I dialed my mom's number. My thumb hovered uncertainly over the 'send' button. I rolled out of bed and knocked softly on Jen's door. Ever the early riser (she liked to do yoga as the sun rose -- personally I liked sleeping till noon whenever possible, but to each her own), she opened it almost immediately. "Will you sit with me while I talk to my mom?" I asked, my voice trembling a little. "Of course, sweetie," she said. "Where's Seth?" "I don't know," I said. She nodded and we walked to the couch, Jen's arm around me. I took a deep breath and pushed 'send.' "Hello?" I almost broke down crying at the sound of my mother's voice. My hormones must have been extra crazy that day, because I blurted out, without any preamble, "Mom, I'm pregnant." Jen raised her eyebrows and there was dead silence on the other end. "...Mom?" I said carefully. "Did -- did you hear me?" She sighed quietly. "I heard you," she said. "How far along?" I winced. "Um...about seven months." More silence. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Or is this one of those I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant situations?" she asked, a note of sarcasm in her voice. "I was afraid to," I said honestly. "I was afraid of your reaction." "Whose is it?" she asked. Then, in rapid succession: "Is it a boy or a girl? Have you been seeing a doctor? Do you take vitamins? Don't eat too much junk. Are you getting married? Whose is it?" I smiled a little. Typical Mom. "I don't know which it is yet, we -- I'm waiting till he or she is born to find out. I see a doctor regularly and everything's okay, and yes, I'm taking vitamins, and...well, the baby seems to crave a lot of cake, but I try to eat healthy for the most part..." I trailed off, half-hoping she'd forget the most important questions she'd asked. No such luck -- there was an expectant silence on the other end. I could almost hear her foot tapping impatiently. I drew in a deep breath. "You've never met him," I said slowly, choosing my words cautiously. "But we were friends for a long time before we got involved. He's good to me, Mom." I felt a lump in the back of my throat yet again and I silently cursed my hormones. "He'll be there for me," I said unsteadily. "He has a good job and he's kind and sweet and intelligent. He -- " My mom interrupted. "Is he handsome?" I smiled through my tears. "Like you wouldn't believe, Mom," I said, my tension easing a little. "If we're lucky the baby will look just like him. And...maybe we'll get married, someday." I was less certain of that, but I didn't want to offend my mother's traditional sensibilities too much. Jen's arm tightened around my shoulders and I looked up at her. She was smiling encouragingly. "Mom...I love him." "That's all I need to know," she replied. "I miss you. I hope he makes you happy." It was almost as if she knew what was going on with S. and me. "Thanks, Mom," I whispered, and we hung up. "See? That wasn't so bad after all," Jen said, ever the optimist. "Now, you have to tell me what is going on with you and Seth. What exactly happened last night?" I told Jen the whole story and she listened carefully. She sat quietly after I was done and I rose to make some tea while she considered. Jen always gave me good advice, so I was willing to wait. The water had boiled and the tea was steeping when she finally spoke. "Seth loves you," she said. "He does. I see it in his face when he looks at you." I blushed and ducked my head to blow on the steam curling up from my cup. "His brother basically said the same thing," I mumbled. "See?" Jen said. "It's true. Now I think you should call him. He probably thinks you're upset at him for going after Her." I shook my head. "But he knows I would never begrudge him for -- " Jen interrupted me. "Trust me, he doesn't know that. Call him and tell him. Then make him come over here and make some more of those amazing pancakes." I took a deep breath. "Okay." I picked up my phone once more and scrolled down to Seth's name. Another nerve-wracking conversation. Oh joy, I thought. But he didn't pick up. "This is Seth, leave me a message!" Beep. "Hi...Seth...it's me. I just wanted to check in with you after last night. I totally understand why you went to talk to Victoria. I just hope everything is okay. Please call me back and let me know. Okay. Bye." I hung up and flopped my arms and head onto the table. "Don't worry," said Jen. "He'll call you back in five seconds." Five seconds came and went. Jen and I stared at my phone, willing it to ring. We both jumped when Jen's phone rang instead. She pressed a hand to my shoulder comfortingly and went to her room to talk. I rested my chin on my folded arms, my stomach barely fitting underneath the table. As my due date drew nearer, I was getting more and more uncomfortable. I was on leave from work and had little to do but worry about what was going on with Seth, let alone how I was going to push a baby out of my body. I knew women all over the world did it every day, many without even an epidural (which I had told my doctor about two hundred times that I needed), but I was convinced it wasn't possible for me. I closed my eyes and had started to doze a little when Jen came back out of her room and cleared her throat. "Hmm?" I sighed, half-asleep. "Sleep later," Jen said. "I have something important to show you." "Is it more important than sleep?" I mumbled, my head still down. "Yup. Come on." She tugged gently but insistently at my arm. I dragged myself out of the chair and allowed her to lead me. We walked out of the apartment and headed to the elevator. "Wait, where are we going?" I asked, frowning. I thought she was going to take me to her room and show me another bridal magazine or something. She had taken to circling the gowns she liked the best for me in bright red Sharpie. Ripped-out pages were scattered all over the living room. "You'll see," Jen said in a sing-song voice. "You're annoying," I informed her, only half-joking. She just laughed and pressed the button inside the elevator for the top floor. "You're going to have to climb just a few stairs," she said apologetically. I groaned. It was no easy feat heaving my beach ball of a stomach anywhere, let alone up a staircase. "Are we going to the roof?" I asked incredulously. "Why? So I can see the view?" "Nope, it's for something else," Jen said cheerily. I grumbled. The elevator dinged and Jen held my arm as I trudged up the stairs that led to the roof. "Are we even allowed up here?" I questioned. Jen shrugged, unconcerned, and pushed open the heavy metal door that led outside. I caught my breath and followed her onto the roof. Seth was waiting on the other side, holding a bouquet of lilies, my favorite flowers. I looked at him uncertainly, then glanced at Jen. She smiled and backed away, and I suddenly realized why she had gone into her room to take that phone call. You Never Know Ch. 07 All characters in this story are over the age of 18. "What are you doing here?" I asked Seth, even though a fluttering in my stomach told me I already knew. "What's going on?" He approached me cautiously, as if afraid I would push him away, and offered the lilies. I took them and waited. "The divorce isn't final yet," he began, "but things with Victoria are definitely over. We talked for a long time last night – and this morning – and...well, she's still furious at me, and you..." He shrugged apologetically. "Understandably, I guess." He took my hand and led me near the edge of the roof, where someone had left a couple of folding chairs. "Victoria and I still care about each other, but we agreed we're better off friends. The relationship was deteriorating a long time before you and I ever kissed. I had tried to fix it by asking her to marry me, but...clearly, that only made things worse, in the end." He took my hand and grasped it tightly. "When I would go home to her after being with you...it didn't feel like home anymore. I felt like a stranger in my own house. But whenever I'm with you, it's just, like...contentment." Seth lifted my chin and kissed me on the corner of my mouth, his sea glass eyes imploring me to listen to him. I listened, though my head was spinning. "I thought I loved Victoria But I was wrong. I love you. I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you. Can you see it?" he asked. "Yes," I said faintly. I couldn't wrap my mind around what was happening. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. Seth reached into his pocket and I almost stopped breathing. "Victoria and I weren't right," he said softly, pulling out a little velvet box. "You and me...we're right. I love you. Will you marry me?" He popped open the box to reveal a diamond engagement ring. I pressed my hands to my face and felt dampness on my cheeks. I was crying. To my surprise, I saw tears in Seth's eyes too. I had never seen him cry before. He was looking at me hopefully and I realized I hadn't answered him yet. "Well?" he asked. "What do you say?" "Yes, nothing would make me happier," I told him quickly, on the verge of blubbering. I threw my arms around him and sniffled into his shoulder. "Of course, Seth, I will marry you." He embraced me tightly then pulled back to place the ring on my left hand. I stared down at it, still not entirely sure this was all really happening. It sparkled in the sunlight. "It's so beautiful, Seth." I kissed him with all the passion I could muster. "Not nearly as beautiful as you," he muttered as our lips parted, wiping away my tears with his fingers. "Can I come hug you yet?" Jen yelled from the other side of the roof. I had nearly forgotten she was there. "Yes!" Seth shouted back. Jen catapulted over and nearly knocked me down. She threw an arm around Seth too. "I'm so happy for you guys!" she said tearfully. "Oh no, don't you start crying too!" I laughed. "I'll try not to!" she wailed. "Okay, okay, squeezing you can't be good for Baby." She backed away and Seth left an arm around my shoulders. "Did you know?" I asked Jen suspiciously. A flash of guilt came over her face. "Maybe." I shot an accusatory look at Seth "She helped me pick out the ring," he admitted. I passed a hand across my eyes. "How did I not know?" They smiled. "We're good at keeping secrets," she said teasingly, glancing at Seth. I shivered slightly and he held me closer. "It's getting cold out here. Let's head inside," he suggested. He helped me up and we headed back downstairs. I felt like I was sleepwalking. I couldn't take my eyes off Seth, wondering how I had gotten so lucky. Jen claimed she had errands to run as soon as we were back inside the apartment, winking at me when Seth's back was turned. I mouthed thank you to her and Seth and I slipped into my bedroom as soon as she was gone. "I can't believe you proposed to me while I was still in my pajamas," I said, looking down at my oversized tee, flannel pants, and hot pink slippers. "I tried to get Jen to put you in a dress, but she thought it would be too suspicious," he replied, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around me as best as he could. I leaned back slightly against him and gazed happily at my left hand. "It's okay," I assured Seth. "I don't care. We're getting married." He slid his hands up over my stomach and rested them on my breasts, massaging slowly. A spark of arousal alit within me. "Yes, we are," Seth said softly, nuzzling my neck and running just his fingertips over my chest, flicking at my nipples. I gasped at the pleasure of it. He turned me around and met my lips with his, sliding his tongue into my mouth. I eagerly reciprocated, reaching up to hold his head in place as I deepened the kiss. We half-walked, half-stumbled over to the bed while Seth tugged my shirt over my head and slid my pants down my hips. Having sex while pregnant had felt weird and awkward at first, but we were both reasonably comfortable with it by now. Seth kissed his way down my swollen belly and lifted my legs over his shoulders in order to access my core. I was unable to masturbate with my stomach in the way, and I flinched sensitively, unused to the sensation, when he slipped in two fingers and started to thrust them in and out. "Easy, easy," he muttered, coaxing more moisture from inside me. I felt as if I was on the verge of exploding already. My eyes fluttered closed and my hand buried itself in Seth's hair as he bent to lick me out. I half-screamed and arched my back as une petite-mort came over me. Seth didn't let up; he pulled his fingers out and left me empty for only a moment before pushing his tongue inside. He thrust with it as he would later with his cock, encouraging me to come again. Sweat poured down my face and trickled into my cleavage and over my hard nipples as my chest heaved with every labored breath. He licked up and down the length of my slit, hitting my clitoris with every stroke of the tongue, making me writhe on the sheets. He used his fingers to open me wider and I moaned as the cool air came into contact with my burning hot insides. "Seth...Seth..." I whimpered frantically, straining towards another orgasm. I gripped the sheets with my fists and twisted them. Seth nursed my inner thighs to give me a break, but I didn't want a break. I needed to come again. I pulled him back to the apex between my legs and though I couldn't see him, I felt like I could hear him smirking. He returned agreeably, slipping three fingers inside this time and curling them up towards my G-spot while simultaneously stroking my clit with his calloused thumb. I felt like I would pass out, the pleasure was so intense. Seth replaced his thumb with his tongue and sucked my clit into his mouth. That was it. I burst. I trembled all over, moaned and shook, enjoying the strongest orgasm of my life. Seth continued to lick me throughout, gently, softly, allowing me to float down. I heaved an enormous sigh when it was over, but Seth wasn't done with me yet. He tore off his shirt and pushed his jeans away, kicking them off the edge of the bed. He then made his way up the bed and positioned himself behind me, spooning me, and pulled my left leg back to rest on his. We had to adjust ourselves a few times, but once we had it right Seth pushed ferociously up into me, knocking the air out of my lungs. His cock was rock-hard. I hissed as he bottomed out. Somehow I felt fuller than I ever had before. I reached a hand back to pull him closer, and if I had been looking at him, I would have seen his eyes roll back into his head. "Hold onto me," he whispered hoarsely, and began a series of short, hard thrusts while I held on to his hip. He started to reach a hand around but I grasped it in my own to stop him. "I can't handle it," I panted. "Too sensitive." My clit felt almost bruised from all of the attention he had given it just moments before. It was a pleasurable pain, but I knew I couldn't take anymore. Seth left his hand in mine as we rocked to completion. It wasn't going to take me long and I knew from Seth's labored breaths that he was close already too. Our sweat-soaked bodies slid against each other as if lubricated. I turned my head and found Seth's lips and he pounded deep into me one last time, holding still as a statue, our mouths locked, as we both came. He groaned softly and I felt him soften a bit inside me, but he didn't pull out. We lay in that comfortable embrace, breathing heavily, until his come started to leak down my thighs. "Is it disgusting to sleep on these sheets now?" he asked, sounding more exhausted than he did after a night of drumming. I shifted, feeling the damp cloth underneath me. He slipped out of me and I gasped quietly, the sensation was so pleasurable. "Yes, but I can't be bothered about it right now," I told him dreamily, turning over with difficulty so my stomach protruded into the air. I felt so satisfied...satiated. Seth was asleep in two seconds and it didn't take me long to follow. NB: Before I get a barrage of comments about how immoral/illegal it is to get engaged while still going through a divorce, nope, you can definitely get engaged to someone while separated from your current spouse. Engagement basically means nothing, in the legal sense.