“It’s not fair,” she whines.
“Why don’t we text Dr. Silverman and ask? She might say you can have a cup or two a day.”
“Hilary said she isn’t drinking coffee. If she’s not drinking it, then I can’t either.”
“How come?” Hilary? Does she have a medical degree or something?
“Because she’s more of a coffee addict than me. If she can give it up for her baby, I should too. Otherwise, what kind of mom does that make me?”
“One who really needs caffeine to function?” I offer, hoping it makes her feel better.
She shakes her head morosely. “It’s okay. I’ll just try to get extra sleep.”
We have toasted bagels and cream cheese. I offer her some lox, but she turns it down with a face. “Ugh. No having fish first thing in the morning. It’s disgusting.”
I laugh. “Salmon fat is good for the baby.”
“I think giving up coffee is enough.” She bites into her bagel with more grumpy aggression than necessary.
But as more of the food disappears into her, her eyes start to regain focus and clarity. She finishes her juice, then says, “By the way, Edgar?”
“Yeah?”
“What did you mean last night when you said you were never taking me to Tempérane?”
“Exactly what I said. There’s no reason for you to go just because my dad came by yesterday.”
“But he was talking about your family legacy and stuff. What was that about?”
Turning you into a cold, brittle shell like my mom.
“None of that matters at all?” she asks.
I give Jo a placid smile. Over my dead body. “He’s a traditionalist. He basically wants a grandson, and especially one from me, since I’m his firstborn. But we don’t have to be in Louisiana to have kids.” Then, to end whatever argument she might have, I go for the things I know she can never give up. “You don’t just have a career here. You have friends and family. And we both like Dr. Silverman.”
“That’s true.” She nods. “But what about your work? Isn’t it hard to do it long distance?”
“Don’t worry about it. Communication is cheap and instant these days. And if I have to physically be in town, I can pop up, no problem. We have a private jet for that, you know.” Besides, it is less of a priority now. Before, Dad and I fought over the difference in our vision, and I was becoming disillusioned and frustrated. Jo and the baby are showing me where my energy might be better spent.
“Okay.” She smiles.
I kiss the back of her hand, pleased that the point Dad brought up got resolved so easily. And I’m grateful Jo isn’t impressed with my family’s status. It was annoying at first when I couldn’t use it to get her marry me, but long-term, it’s better this way.
Over the next few days, Jo and I settle into a routine. I get up hours earlier than her to deal with Blackwood Energy business. With the time difference, the office in Louisiana is already humming by si
x thirty Pacific Time.
She usually gets up between seven and nine. I let her sleep as late as she wants. I remember hearing from Tony that Ivy was exhausted all the time, especially during her first trimester. And Jo’s schedule is still very full with appointments.
I’m glad she isn’t overly stubborn about hiring a decorator. Some women want to do it all themselves, then get angry that they’re so exhausted. Jo said she doesn’t have the time to go furniture shopping or work on color schemes. And it isn’t like she and I don’t have better things to do.
Like sex.
I’m getting hard just thinking about it—the way her nipples bead up and how she gets wet so fast. She seems almost embarrassed by how easily and profusely she gets aroused, but I love her responsiveness.
It’s our first Sunday together. But no matter how much I want us to spend the rest of the day in bed, I need to get ready for lunch at her parents’ home.
Crashing her family dinner at the restaurant was my way of trying to assert myself—and stopping Jo from announcing her engagement to Aaron. Yuna was convinced she was going to do it soon.