“I’m heading out, Emily,” I call toward the front of the studio as I power down my computer. “And I have that birthing class tonight. If you forget to set the alarm again, call Cara.”
“Sure thing, Boss Lady. But I won’t forget. Wrote it down.” Emily holds up her hand where the bright green wordalarmis written on her skin. “It’s permanent marker, so I’ll remember tomorrow too.”
“Doubtful,” I tease, stopping in front of her at the front desk. “Tomorrow’s Saturday anyway. I’m locking up.”
“Oh yeah…” She laughs sheepishly. “I forgot.”
Rolling my eyes, I head out the door, pausing in the mid-March warmth. How she can be so good at her job and such a space case is beyond me. You gotta love her though. My phone buzzes again as I’m digging for my keys.
Trevor
Let me know when you’re outside. I’ll walk you up.
Me
You think my legs stopped working while you were gone?
Trevor
Nope. Just wanna make out in the parking lot
Me
Trevor’s been on his full flex training schedule for several weeks now, flying out on Sundays and flying back home Thursdays—basically the same schedule we followed when he was still in San Francisco. But it’s harder now. I’ve gotten used to having him around. Usually he gets in early on Thursdays, but he gotback so late last night, we didn’t have much time together before bed. I’m bringing lunch to his office to make up for it.
I slip behind the wheel and shoot him a text, letting him know I’m on the way. He sends back a bunch of lips emojis, and I bite mine, giggling at the silliness. The way I’ve missed him this week is borderline unhinged. Making out in the parking lot sounds fantastic.
When I pull into the EdTechU campus, Trevor’s already standing outside waiting for me. He strolls across the lot to my car, and once I’ve put it in park, my door flies open and he’s unbuckling my seat belt. I’m pinned to my headrest by his lips, giggling at the giddiness fluttering around in my chest. “Hey, Gem,” he mumbles, smiling against my mouth like breaking apart just to say hello is unbearable.
I give him another peck. “I thought you wanted to make out in the parking lot, not the car.”
He presses a kiss to my stomach, then helps me out of the driver’s seat. “Technically, the car’sinthe parking lot.” He grabs the Subbies bag on the console and closes the door. “But if you insist…” Pulling me to him, he leans against the side of my car. With a hand on my belly, he says, “I’ll kiss you out here, too. Oh?—”
Right before our lips meet, he jumps at the kick against his hand. “Damn! That was—did that hurt?” His eyes are a mix of excitement and concern. With all the traveling, he hasn’t been able to feel the baby kick yet, despite weeks of me feeling her move around on the inside.
“Nope.” I press his hand into the spot where she kicked. “She did that last night, too, when she heard your voice. Say something else.”
His excitement turns timid. “Like what?”
“Anything.” I take the Subbies bag from him. “Say hi. Tell her a joke. I don’t know. You’re the talker here.”
He squats so he’s at eye level with my bump and frames it inhis hands. I give him a reassuring grin when he flicks hesitant eyes up at me. “Hi, sweet pea. I can’t wait to meet you.”
The baby lands a hard kick right on his palm, and the look of awe on his face as he stares at my bump has me melting like a popsicle. We might be outside in a bustling parking lot, but it feels like it’s just the three of us sharing this moment. He presses another kiss to my stomach before standing, shaking his head with wonder. “You feel that all day?”
“Mostly. She usually sleeps while I’m at work, but as soon as I eat something, and whenever you get home, she perks right up and stays that way all night.”
“Amazing.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s get inside.”
Trevor’s hand stays on my lower back until I’m settled in the leather swivel chair in his glass partitioned office. All the other offices are empty.
“They went out for lunch today,” he says, sitting in a metal chair across the desk.
“Oh. You could have gone with them, Tre. This isn’t impor?—”
“I’m right where I want to be.” He winks, then digs into the Subbies bag. While he figures out which sandwich is my veggie sub, I gaze around his office. It’s mostly bare, just like his apartment was in San Francisco, save a few file folders stacked neatly next to the computer on his desk, a filing cabinet in the corner, and a couple of shelves.
I spin in the chair to the bookshelf behind me and gasp at the framed pictures on top. There are only two, but something about seeing them in his ascetic office brings me near tears. The bigger one is a horizontal four-paned wooden frame with a progression of ultrasound pictures—the first all the way to our latest gender scan. But the smaller photo catches me by surprise. It’s a profile of me, bundled up in my winter coat with a smile as I aim my camera at a snow-covered tree. I had no idea this picture existed, and even though it’s the most mundane pose, it means the world.
