Do You Think You're Up For This?

"And I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how." - Taking Back Sunday

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The refreshingly hot water streams down my body, washing away my worries for the moment being.

But it can’t last forever.

I dry myself off after I step out of the shower, slipping on clean underwear and then leaving the bathroom to retrieve my black dress from the closet. My hands shake a little as I clutch the fabric.

I stare at it as if it will bite me, worried that somehow, it won’t fit, I’ll freak out, Michael will get suspicious, and I’ll have to tell him everything before I’m ready to.

But I’m being paranoid and unreasonable as I examine myself in our walk-in closet mirror, running my hands down my torso self-consciously.

Although…it might just be me, because it can’t be possible…but I think…I look...rounder?

No. That can’t be possible.

…Can it?

To my immense relief, it’s only my imagination. My black dress zips up easily and I set my matching heels near the door.

I return to the bathroom and blow-dry my wet hair before applying a hint of makeup to my face, which seems paler than usual.

I put the black pencil down after I finish with my eyeliner and my gaze sticks on my stomach again.

I frown, wondering what I’ll look like in a few months.

I don’t know how far along I am or when it will start to show. I start to calculate the date of the last time Michael and I-

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel his sturdy arms wrap around my waist from behind and his lips at my ear, distracting me from the numbers swirling around in my brain. I feel a little lightheaded and I can’t tell if it’s from my slight nausea or him being so close to me again after a month’s separation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, squeezing me lightly around the waist and making me shiver as his lips barely graze my ear and goose bumps appear on my arms. “Pictures aren’t good enough. I missed you so much.” I close my eyes and give a soft sigh as his lips trail light kisses from the skin near my ear down the hollow of my neck.

I allow myself to relax into his kisses for a few minutes, and I forget about everything until he stops, my burning skin turning cold again as he takes back his lips.

“Are you ready? We don’t want to be late for our reservation,” he says, grabbing one of his fedoras from a shelf behind me.

“Right,” I say, although I’d actually love to miss it and stay home tonight, just lying in bed with him so I can feel safe and not worried about the problem he doesn’t know exists yet.

But before I know it, we’re seated at the restaurant and have just ordered our dinner.

“Should we get some wine? Do you want a drink or anything?” he asks, glancing at me over his menu.

“No,” I immediately blurt out. His eyebrows furrow in slight confusion. “Water is fine.”

“Okay,” he says, shrugging as he hands the menus back to the waitress. He turns to me once she leaves. “Are you feeling alright?” he asks, reaching across the table to place his hand over mine.

“Yeah, I…just…maybe I’m getting sick,” I offer (not mentioning how I spent the past two mornings throwing up), and he squeezes my hand softly in comfort.

Dinner passes somewhat quickly. I keep asking him about tour so that he won’t ask me what I’ve been up to. I’m pretty sure he notices, but he doesn’t call me on it and tells me all the small and big things that have happened in the short month we’ve been separated. I try not to touch my wrist.

I change into comfortable shorts and a tank top as soon as we get home and climb into bed, relieved. He settles down on the sheets next to me, turning his head toward mine to kiss me.

I kiss him back and he rolls on top of me, supporting his weight with his arms resting on either side of me. He playfully nips at my neck while I rest my hands on his chest. His hands slide under my top, calloused fingertips tickling my skin as he shifts it higher on.

“I missed you,” I sigh contentedly, running my fingers through his hair.

“How much?” he mumbles teasingly, leaning down to kiss my stomach, causing my heart to pound uncontrollably, but mostly due to the fact that this reminds me of our not-so-small problem.

I accidentally flinch away for the same reason when his kisses move down to the waistband of my shorts.

“Is something wrong?” he asks in concern, pulling away slightly to look at me knowingly.

“No. I’m just kind of tired tonight,” I say, feeling guilty from my tiniest words of dishonesty. I wince inwardly, hoping he’s not upset; I mean, I just rejected my new husband.

“Oh. Okay,” he replies, kissing my cheek and wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. “Good night. I love you,” he whispers in my ear.

“I love you,” I answer. I listen to his breathing slow down as he falls asleep.

I don’t sleep for hours.