Also, I was beginning to regret waiting to find out the gender. That little envelope sat in the top drawer of the dresser in my nest room, taunting me on a daily basis.
Preston was supposed to be back in some unknown number of weeks, and I was concerned that those weeks were turning into months.
Everyone had been so convinced he would return in time, but I had my doubts. The more pregnant I became, the more cranky and less trusting I got.
As time dragged on, I’d started considering how I would give birth without him. One thing about being pregnant was, it had turned me into a planner. I wanted to know exactly how I was going to give birth, where I was going to do it, and the entire process involved.
I wanted to know who was in the room and what their roles would be. Childbirth was such a chaotic and messy experience, I needed to control what little I could.
Maybe I was turning into a control freak, but I didn't care.
Sometimes, even a simple nighttime routine was too much. The baby was sapping my energy to the point that holding a toothbrush could feel like a giant task. Plus, brushing my teeth made me terribly nauseated—I didn’t get sick.
I stood in the bathroom now, staring at myself in the mirror. Rough would be a nice way of putting it. There were bags under my eyes, and my boobs were sore and swollen—downright enormous, in fact—and my milk hadn’t even come in yet.
Standing in just a bra and pajama pants, I struggled through brushing my teeth, cursing waistbands that pressed on my pelvis the way they did and reconsidering my dismissal of belly tape.
“Hey,” Nolan said from the doorway. “Do you want anything else to eat?”
I shook my head, spitting out the toothpaste before talking. “No, I think I'm good. I just want to collapse in bed.”
I grabbed the bottle of oil that I was using for my stomach, looked at it for a moment, and put it down. I was too tired to do that. Regularly moisturizing was supposed to be the best way to help reduce stretch marks, but there was just so much skin to moisturize now, and I was too exhausted to care.
And there was the fact that my doctor told me they were mostly hereditary. So I could thank my mother for stretch marks if I got them.
“Here, let me help,” Nolan offered.
Plucking the bottle off the counter, he poured a generous amount into his hands. Because I was only wearing a bra, my stomach was easily accessible, and he started rubbing the moisturizer carefully, ensuring it was well absorbed.
“You don't have to,” I mumbled sleepily, but he was already halfway through the task by the time I thought to say something, his hands working in strong, measured strokes.
“I want to,” he insisted softly.
I stood there and let him pamper me for a few moments. Once he was done, the huge bra came off, and I grabbed one of Nolan's shirts from the hamper.
The farther along I got in my pregnancy, the more I wanted my alphas scents near. So their T-shirts had become my nightwear. They were saturated so perfectly in their smells that my omega was obsessed.
“Want me to carry you to the nest?” Nolan smiled when I turned around.
I shook my head. “I can make it.”
That didn't stop him from following me, a hand on my lower back guiding me. I had no doubt that if I stumbled even slightly, he would scoop me up.
As we approached, he crouched down, picking up my favorite blankets and opening the nest so I could crawl in.
“Are you joining me?” I asked, making grabby hands in his general direction, because I very much wanted him to join me.
I never slept alone anymore. The nest was large enough to fit several people, and I was taking advantage of that every moment I could.
“Well, you know, I'm not going to say no to that.” He chuckled, then clambered in after me.
Wrapping myself around him, I buried my face in his chest and inhaled deeply.
Between us, my bump rested against his abdomen. The baby was getting more and more mobile by the day. It was a strange sensation, feeling a baby move inside you, but I had become rather fond of my little nugget’s movements.
Except when I was getting kicked in the ribs or punched in the cervix.
“It's insane to think that, in a few weeks, we’ll be parents,” he mused.