This morning, I wake up with a cramp in my back and my husband isn't home to massage it. I fight back a pout and haul myself out of bed, waddling to the bathroom. The fact that Rektar isn't home this morning isn't all that odd. He takes early mornings so he can be home with me at night, and if something comes up in Port, he climbs out of bed so quietly I don't wake up, leaves me a note, and goes in to work. He loves his job, and he loves helping out the locals. He loves that he and the other mesakkah “custodians” are slowly cleaning up our little corner of the universe and making it a safer place to live.
I love that, too, but this morning I wish he was here so he could rub my back and tell me how beautiful I am even though I feel like a beached whale.
I take a shower, hoping it'll ease some of the pain in my back, but my belly's so big now that I feel like I'm carrying a boulder slung at my waist. Rektar's a big guy and I'm not exactly dainty, so I shouldn't be surprised that my belly is popping out all over, but hauling it around for fourteen months instead of the human nine is wearing thin. Milly—Lord va'Rin's wife—said she carried her first one for almost sixteen months, and I might lose my damn mind if that happens.
As I dress, the baby kicks my bladder and pushes against all my organs, as if she, too, is complaining about a lack of space. I put on a supportive harness over my shoulders and fasten it under my belly, and that helps a little. My shoes are little more than slide-on sandals, because my feet are swollen and I haven't seen them in months, and if Rektar's not home, I can't put them on. I tie my curly hair up in a knot atop my head and waddle out to the kitchen to bake muffins for Rektar and his co-workers.
Even though I “got” my man and there's no need for me suck up and bake for the officers in Port, I still do. In the last year or so, two other mesakkah have joined Rektar and Khex working in the custodial office, and they're all young and idealistic and come from a similar background as my Rektar does. They're awed and so happy every time they have someone bake for them. Maybe it's that my nurturing side is in full force with a baby on the way, but someone's gotta take care of them. So I bake and bring it in, because it feeds my husband…and I squeeze information out of the others so I can try to matchmake them with potential women.
Everyone needs to be as happy as I am, after all.
Today is my two-year anniversary to Rektar. Ever since that fateful day, life has just gotten better. I didn't realize how starved I was for company until I woke up, every day, with my mate at my side and realized I no longer felt achingly lonely. That I loved having someone to talk to every day and go to sleep with every night. More than that, that I love Rektar himself. My mate is alternately a big protective bear and the sweetest person I know. He loses his mind at the thought of me hurting, and the one time I sprained my ankle in the field, he carried me back to the house and acted as if my foot had snapped clear off, he was so frantic over me. I love that he babies me, and so I baby him back in return.
Every good relationship is about give and take, right?
We're just good together, though, him and I. I smile to myself as I whip up a batch of muffins. I add in a heavy spice that I know is Rektar's favorite—kind of like cinnamon crossed with rosemary—and pace around the kitchen with my hands on the small of my back as I wait for them to finish baking. I made three of the muffins larger than the rest, and I'm going to make sure Rektar knows those are for him. He's put on a bit of a pudge in the two years since we got married. Just a bit. I find it ultra-adorable, though. I love squeezing it…and okay, I just love squeezing him. He's still shy sometimes—I think he always might be—so I make sure to be as bold as I want and let him know exactly what I like. I like his pudge. I like his big hands and his protective nature. I love that he's smart and clever and hard-working and so good to look at that he makes my mouth water every time I see him.