August fifteen. My eyes narrow at the digits circled in red ink on my phone screen. Is Josh right? Sinking my teeth into my lip, I contemplate redialling his number. Brandon's birthday is on the fifteenth, tomorrow, not the fourteenth like Josh was kind enough to point out. My hand grows clammy, I rub it on my nightgown and spare Brandon a look.

Sprawled on the bed with his head buried into the pillow, fast asleep like a child and oblivious to my confusion. A pang of jealousy shoots through me when he rolls onto his stomach and hides his face in the pillow. It will be a while before I can sleep on my back or stomach. Contrary to what the doctor said, I cannot get used to sleeping on my side.

Maybe in a few more weeks, I might adjust to it, now, it’s a punishment. Sleeping on my back feels like a luxury I abused, every position is comfortable long enough for me to get tired and upset. They should have asked questions, told me the nitty-gritty involved in a pregnancy. Who knows? I might have requested the contraceptives from Sophia myself.

Another wistful look at Brandon, a content sigh escapes him and my jealousy morphs into resentment which fades as quickly as it comes. I dump the phone on the drawer and exhale, we made the baby together, I need to stop hating on him or I will push him away.

Tapping two fingers against my temple, I wait for my rising anger to subside. These mood swings are terrible. I tear up a lot, over nothing. One minute, I am delirious with excitement, the next second, I am furious for no reason. Why am I upset? I know why.

In a heartbeat, I pick a pillow and slam it on Brandon’s head. He bolts upright from the bed, gaze darting right, left, centre until it lands on my beautiful, calm self seated at the edge with a saccharine smile. A groan slips from him, the panic in his eyes recedes. With a sigh, he lowers himself to the bed, already inching close to wrap his arms around me.

“Elna.” Brandon sounds upset but I don’t care, he can’t be asleep. “What was that for?”

Careful to tuck his arms below my breasts, he pecks my cheek and I frown. I don’t need him to be all lovey-dovey right now. It is not a big deal but it hurts. I peel his hands from my body but they come right back and I hiss when his fingers brush my nipples again, it wasn’t a mistake on his part. He knows I will always want him. I can’t resist his charms.

He rubs my bump through the material of my nightie, I try to focus on the window, the overcast skies when he traces the lace of the plunging neckline. I should have worn the robe. Or not. I grunt. A moan spills from me when his hand slides down to cup my core.

“Stop,” I let out in a feeble whisper. “Brandon.”

Tilting my head to litter kisses on my neck, his beard brushes my skin, he slides a finger inside me, moving torturously slow until I suck in a sharp breath and bring his free hand to my breasts. Arching my back, I sink my nails into his knees. I need him to continue.

“Wifey, do you want me to stop?” I manage to shake my head as my walls tighten around his fingers and my head falls back in a moan “What did I do? Why are you mad at me?”

The blissful sensations come to a crushingly painful halt at the withdrawal of his fingers, my hooded eyes jerk open and I whimper. To pacify me, he rubs the inside of my thigh, maintaining an inch from my dripping wetness. I nod my approval as one firm hand closes over my eager breast and grind my butt against his limp manhood. My hand settles on the headboard, I grip it when he pulls a nipple and licks a wet trail to my ear.

“Come back,” I say when he disappears from behind me. He appears in my line of vision, flashes me a seductive wink and kneels between my legs. “W...what are you doing?”

“Lie on your back.”

“But...”

The protest dies on my tongue at his arched brow, I nod and my back connects with the bed. During sex is the only doctor-approved time for me to do as Brandon instructed.

A few minutes of sex, not long, slow, hours of lovemaking. On an idle day, I can’t, for the baby’s sake. We both know that. It is why this hot, naughty man has a list of comfortable sex positions with erotic pictures for pregnant women glued to the top of the vanity.

I grip the sheet as my legs vanish from the floor to rest on his shoulders, a pillow comes behind my back and I offer him a kind smile. His breath fans my core, unleashing a hive of bees inside me. I am supposed to be mad at him. My thoughts evaporate as his tongue presses to my clit, my legs jerk and I gasp at the expert flick of his tongue over my clit.

Pleasure blinds me as a finger pokes into my asshole, his tongue works its wonders and I come undone within seconds. The slurping sound he makes as he takes in my essence has me purring, a wave of contentment rolls over me and a small smile curves my lips.

Brandon hovers over me, I drag his head down for a smothering kiss. He is careful to keep his weight on his elbows, I take charge and slide my tongue into his mouth. Fast and slow. Hot and hotter. Taking and taking. Until our chests are heaving before we pull away to get some air. He collapses beside me, I lay on my side and he cups my cheek.

His eyes rest on me. “Do you forgive me?”

“For what?” My anger rushes back but it’s a weak flame that dies at his nervous smile. I frown, taking a deep breath to keep the hurt out of my voice. He had a long day, it is why I allowed him to sleep without any disturbances after his bath. “Today is your birthday.”

A wave of confusion rolls over his features, he nods. I scoff, he eyes me warily. “So?”

“So…” I say, extracting his hand from my face while wishing I was not facing him. “You should have told your wife. You should have told me. You didn’t say anything at all.”

Shooting up to a sitting position, he plucks a strand of hair from his thigh and fakes a smile. A silent sigh leaves my lips when my back meets the headboard, he tucks a pillow behind me and my frown turns upside down. He makes it hard to stay upset with him.

“There was nothing to say.” Pressing his index finger to his wicked lips to signify my silence, he adds, “Because I do not celebrate birthdays. There was no need to tell you.”

“There was every need to tell me,” I snap. “I thought it was tomorrow and you didn’t say anything.” His lips press into a thin line, I can tell he doesn’t like our chat. “It’s not okay.”

His shoulders stiffen, a guarded look crawls into his eyes. “What will you have me do?”

Tears sting my eyes at the harshness of his tone. I smooth the creases on my nightie and shake my head until the tears abate. The dinner I planned for us with Lydia’s help now feels like a bad idea, the mug I customized, a stupid joke. I should have kept to myself.

“Nothing,” I say, hurt by his nonchalance. I was trying to be helpful. I don’t do anything around the house, I don’t cook, I don’t clean, I just stay at home or attend boring classes.

Unable to move, I stay in that position, banging my head against the headboard. Anger and frustration roar inside me, I shut my eyes tight and force myself to think of his wicked tongue. The pleasure he gave me some minutes ago. All the good things he does.

If he doesn’t like birthdays, I should respect that. Not everyone fancies a big celebration, including him. But he is my husband and this is his first birthday as a married man. I bite the inside of my lip when I remember the little weekend surprise I have for him.

This is bad.

Our knees touch, I meet his gaze and he expels a breath of air. Instant guilt overwhelms me at his hurt, forcing me to look away. Maybe harm can come from good intentions too. I should have asked. But what’s a surprise if I need permission to execute it? I hate this.

“Did you make any plans?” My eyes lower to our cojoined knees, I nod. “Can you cancel them?” I shake my head. His voice sounds strangled when he mutters, “Okay. It’s fine.”

But I know it is not fine. I should have asked Josh’s opinion on a birthday surprise for him. Why do I always ruin things for us without even trying? “I got you a gift,” I say and grimace at the slight arching of his brow. Wrong move. “Happy birthday to you, baby.”

Terrible move. A faker smile touches his lips.

“Thank you, wife.” His famous pet name for me should have eased my guilt but it triples. My hand fists into my gown, I wait. But he doesn’t ask about the plans or gifts. Nothing.

The absence of his knees on mine, only skin contact keeping my nerves in check causes terror to grip my limbs, I sniff. He places a chaste kiss on my cheeks. “Goodnight, Elna.”

Panic claws at my throat, I watch him lower himself to the bed and pull the cover to his chin, facing away from me. He didn’t ask his wife to join him. I shake my head, it doesn’t matter. He told me he had a long day yet I woke him, he has every right to go back to sleep. But without his wife? I stare at the back of his head, dread uncurling inside me.

“Brandon?” He tenses. A hand curls around my belly, I whisper a short plea to my bump, asking her to show up for her mother. I need him to look at me. “She kicked,” I lie.

That gets his attention but he doesn’t turn. “She is not a girl, it is a boy. Brandon Junior.”

A small smile lifts my lips, maybe he’s not so mad at me. “Do you want to feel her?”

“No.”

Be still, dear heart but it clenches painfully I lose my breath. He hates me. He hates us.

Too weak to walk to the light switch, I welcome the brightness pouring down on me as I shift into a sleeping position. It takes him less than a minute to spoon me, I stiffen in his arms until he cups my breast and I relax. I hate how he uses my body against me. He can sleep facing the other side of the wall for all I care. Maybe not. I love his arm around me.

“Did she really kick?” he whispers into my ear and I let his question float in the air until he coughs. His hand lowers to my stomach, a finger pokes my belly button, I giggle.

“No,” I say. I am grateful he doesn’t stop his movements on my stomach. And my breath hitches as my feelings crash over me. “But she doesn’t like it when you are mad at me.”

Planting a kiss behind my ear, he says, “I’m not mad.” He buries his head in the crook of my neck, my fingertips caress his cheek until a soft sigh escapes him. “I’m not mad.”

“But you are not happy with me.”

He sighs, I focus on the picture of us on the wall, his smile. “No one has remembered my birthday in ages, this caught me by surprise.” He sighs again. “I don’t know how to feel.”

Me too. And that’s okay. I nod, bringing his knuckles to place a kiss on them. “Okay.”

“Do you want to see a movie? I don’t feel sleepy anymore.”

Our baby girl chooses this moment to make an appearance, or, rather, make the decision for us. She kicks with so much force, evoking pleasant laughter out of both of us.