Page 62 of Marrying the Pakhan

“Yes. Thank you.”

I resume the slow strokes, one hand still spread over the full curve of her stomach. Every so often I feel a faint push from inside against my palm. The reminder keeps me careful. I stay shallow enough that nothing presses too hard, deep enough that she still feels full. Her hand covers mine on her belly and stays there.

The pleasure builds gradually for both of us. There’s no sharp climb, only a steady accumulation. I talk to her in a low voice while I move, telling her how good she feels, how much I love the way her body has changed, how I will never get tired of being the one who gets to touch her like this. She answers with soft sounds and the way she presses back to meet each thrust.

When I feel her start to tighten around me, I slow even further, holding her steady through it.

“I’ve got you,” I tell her. “Take your time.”

She comes with a long, quiet shudder, her body gripping me in slow waves. I keep moving through it just enough to draw the feeling out, then let myself follow. The release is deep and controlled. I stay buried inside her while it finishes, forehead resting against the back of her shoulder, breathing hard but still supporting most of my weight so nothing presses on her stomach.

We remain joined for a long time afterward. I don’t pull out until she shifts slightly, signaling she’s ready. Even then I move carefully, helping her roll onto her back against the pillows. I reach for the water glass on the nightstand and hold it while she drinks. Then I settle beside her again, one arm under her neck and the other resting over the curve of her belly.

A small movement pushes against my hand. I leave my palm there.

“Active again,” I say quietly.

“She likes when you’re close.” Harper’s voice is already heavy with sleep. “Or he. We still don’t know.”

“Either way.” I press a slow kiss to her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She turns her head enough to look at me for a moment. Her eyes are soft and tired.

“That was exactly what I needed,” she says.

“Good. That was the only goal.”

She lets her eyes close. Within a few minutes, her breathing has evened out into sleep.

28

HARPER

I’m early to pick up today, thirty-four weeks making everything take longer than it used to, even the short walk from the car to the fence line where the other parents wait.

I see him before I’ve even found a spot to stand.

Same dark jacket, same stillness that never quite matched anyone else in a pickup line. But today he’s not standing at the edge of the lot the way he used to. He’s at the fence itself, close enough to talk to Mrs. Alvarez through the chain link, and she’s listening to him with the polite, confused expression of someone trying to place a face she doesn’t actually recognize.

My stomach drops in a way that has nothing to do with the baby.

I move closer without fully deciding to, close enough to catch pieces of what he’s saying, something about being a family friend, checking in on behalf of relatives who couldn’t make it today. Ms. Alvarez’s expression shifts from confused to careful, the particular caution teachers develop for exactly this situation.

“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t discuss any student with someone who isn’t listed as an approved contact. If you’d like to speak with the office, I can point you there.”

“Is there a problem here?”

Another staff member, older, more authoritative, appears at Mrs. Alvarez’s shoulder, and the man at the fence straightens slightly, recalibrating.

“Everything all right over here?” the second woman asks, positioning herself between the fence and the children still filing out of the building.

“No problem. Just checking on a family friend’s kid. My mistake.” He backs away from the fence, unhurried even as two staff members watch him go, and he doesn’t look at me directly, though I’d swear he clocks exactly where I’m standing before he turns for the parking lot.

I stand frozen for a second too long, watching him walk to a car I don’t recognize, get in, and pull away without hurrying, like the whole encounter cost him nothing at all.

Ginger comes bounding out a few minutes later, oblivious, already talking about something that happened during recess, and I hug her tighter than the moment probably calls for, my heart still hammering from an encounter she has no idea just happened twenty feet from where she was learning long division.

“You okay, Aunt Harper?”