“Someone told me you’re about to have a baby,” she said cheerfully. “Ready, Zennie?”
“Get it out of me. Get it out now!”
* * *
Zennie lay in her hospital bed enjoying the light sedative she’d insisted on after giving birth. She still hurt because hey, she’d just passed something the weight and size of a boulder through her vagina, but it was done. She’d delivered a seven-pound, eight-ounce healthy baby boy.
“You did a good thing,” her mother said, smiling at her. “I’m proud of you.”
“And disappointed?” Zennie asked.
“No. Bernie’s going to be a wonderful mother and she said I could visit him anytime I want. When she’s more comfortable with me, I’ll even babysit, because technically, he’s my grandson, isn’t he?”
“I never thought of that,” Zennie admitted.
“Parker pointed it out. So I am getting a grandchild after all.”
Mary Jo glowed—not just from the news about her grandson, but also because of her relationship with Parker. They were truly in love and while it was kind of weird, it was nice, too.
Apparently the wedding was on. Her mother had mentioned something about Valentine’s Day and Jamaica. That was five weeks away. Zennie figured she would be almost back to normal by then.
Her mother left so Zennie could rest, but she was too wound up. The hospital room was filled with flowers. Finola had sent a bunch and promised to visit in a couple of weeks. Bernie and Hayes had delivered a huge bouquet. Dr. Chen had also sent an arrangement with a card that said he was literally counting the days until she was back at work.
Zennie smiled as Clark walked into the room. He had a take-out bag in one hand and carefully closed her door with the other.
“You got it?” she asked eagerly, raising her bed.
“Anything for you.”
She ripped open the bag and unwrapped the cheeseburger from In-N-Out Burger. The smell was heavenly, as was the first bite. She held in a moan.
Clark put a milkshake container on her tray. “Chocolate, just like you asked.”
She felt a rush of emotion and knew the stupid hormones were back. From what she’d read, they would be with her for a while, but then they would fade.
“You’ve been very good to me,” she said as he pulled up a chair.
“I’m kind of a saint, huh?” His voice was teasing.
She thought about how he’d been her friend for the past seven months, how he’d rubbed her feet and indulged her cravings and listened to her rant as her body had changed. She thought of how she’d kept him company at the zoo when he’d been worried that one of his orangutans was sick, and all the movies they’d been to. She thought of how he’d listen to her agonize for nearly forty-eight straight hours when she couldn’t decide which of two condos to buy and how he’d helped her move, basically doing all the packing, lifting and unpacking. And best, best, best of all, how he stayed with her all night when she’d been in labor and how he hadn’t gotten upset when she’d screamed at him in the delivery room.
She’d never wanted a man in her life. She’d never understood the whole pairing up thing. It just seemed unnecessary. She had family and friends, and her work and her life was full. No man required. Only...only...it just didn’t seem right. Not without Clark.
Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, he’d become a part of her life. A part of her. He was always there and she liked that. She depended on him and she hoped he depended on her.
And as she was figuring all that out and eating her burger, it occurred to her that he’d never once tried to make a move on her. Not once. Not a kiss or an inference or anything.
“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.
He stared at her. “What? You mean like dating?” He chuckled. “Zennie, I’m with you nearly every second I’m not working. When would I find the time?”
That was a relief. “What about sex?”
“Sometimes I take long showers. What do you do about sex?”
“I’ve been pregnant. Trust me, it hasn’t been on my mind for a while.”
“And before that?”
“It was never that interesting.”
“I remember you saying that.”
She supposed she was one of those people who simply didn’t have a very strong sex drive. Although now that she thought about it, she could kind of see the appeal of that kind of intimacy. Not now—every part of her hurt—but maybe later, when she was healed.
“I always thought I wanted to be alone,” she admitted. “That the pairing up thing was for everyone else.”
His humor faded. “I know. You made that clear.”
Was that disappointment in his voice? Did he want more? Did she?
She wiped her hands, then sucked on her milkshake. The combination of ice cream and chocolate and just plain goodness was magical.
“Can you sneak in wine later?” she asked.
“I thought we’d wait until you were discharged, then I’d bring over a nice dinner and a bottle of wine.”
“I’m so getting drunk. And drinking coffee. And going in a Jacuzzi.” Although she was pretty sure she couldn’t do the latter until her stitches were healed, but absolutely right after that.
She looked at him, at his familiar face, and thought about how much she liked him and how she didn’t want to lose him. She thought about kissing him and touching him and wondered if the problem hadn’t been lack of interest but not realizing she needed the right person.
She put down the milkshake. “Clark, will you go out with me? On a date?”
Instead of answering, he stood up and moved close to the bed. Seconds later, she realized he planned on kissing her.
“I just ate raw onion,” she murmured, more flustered than she would have expected.
“I genuinely don’t care.”
He pressed his mouth against hers. She waited, wondering what, if anything, she would feel. And then it happened. A little quiver down low. A need to put her arms around him and hang on. Desire flickered and grew and before she knew it, he’d pushed the tray aside and somehow they were both in the bed, kissing and holding on and wow, she just never wanted to let go.
When they came up for air, she was smiling.
“So yes on the date?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t have sex for six weeks.”
Clark chuckled, then shifted so she could rest her head on his shoulder. “You can’t have intercourse for six weeks, Zennie. There’s a difference.”
“Really. That’s an interesting notion.”
“I was hoping you might say that. So about Italy. I think we should go together.”
“I’d like that.”
“Me, too.”