Hannah

"I'm jealous," she said, pointing at the beer. "You know how badly I wish I could be drunk for this?"

"I'm not drunk," I responded, but I was definitely on my way there. My skin felt warm, my body relaxed despite the tension of the situation.

"Let me have a sip," she said. She saw the look I gave her. "It's fine, I promise. The doctor says I could have a full glass of wine a week. Gimme."

I reached out and gave her the beer. Cheap stuff, warm now. She took four quick gulps like it was nectar from heaven, then wiped her lips and returned the bottle. "You've still got crappy taste," she smirked.

"Some things don't change," I said, and took another swig. It was quiet for a moment, then Hannah stifled a burp. She laughed, I laughed. The temperature came down in the room.

"I'm sorry I ran off like that earlier," she said. "I got freaked out."

"I'm sorry if I badgered you," I responded. "I was freaked out too."

Hannah leaned back in the chair, trying to get comfortable. She scratched her stomach. "Are you really just down here for work?" she asked. "Did you really not know?"

I watched her belly shift as she moved around. "I am, you can go through my suitcase of demo products if you want," I said, gesturing to my bags, packed and waiting by the door. "And no, until a few hours ago I had no idea you were living here, let alone..." I gestured.

"...really, really pregnant?" she asked.

"Yeah. Really, really pregnant."

"I could tell you hadn't found out," she said. "You looked like you were about to have a heart attack."

"So did you!" I smiled. "A heart attack, or maybe a baby."

"I'm sorry you had to find out like that. It really must have been a shock," she said.

I nodded. "I know our breakup was rough, but I really, truly can't believe you'd keep this from me."

She sighed. "Before we get into all that, can we do some easy questions?"

"Like what?" I asked.

"Ask me if the baby's yours."

"It is mine," I said. "Right?"

"Yeah," she said, patting her stomach. "Sorry if you were hoping it wasn't."

"When is it due?" I asked.

"August 23rd."

"Shit, really?" I said. She seemed confused. "Sorry. I mean, that's almost a month away."

"Yeah, I'm huge, right?" she asked, hand on her bump. I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just asked another question.

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl," she smiled. A girl, I thought. I have a daughter. Like I'd always imagined. The next question was harder, and there was silence as I brought myself to ask it.

"Are you keeping her?"

"No." I sighed, feeling relief and sadness at once. "There's a very nice, very Christian couple from Texas who're excited to have her."

"Wow," I marveled, sipping my beer. "How do you feel about that?"

She shrugged. "It's weird. But I feel like I'm doing the right thing. I really thought I could keep this a secret, and you'd never find out."

"Why?" I asked. "Why not at least tell me?"

"I know you," she said. "If you knew, you'd want to be all over this--"

"Yeah, I'd want to be involved in my own kid's life," I interrupted. "What an asshole."

"I'm not even going to be involved in her life," she corrected.

"Then, yes, I'd still want to be involved. It kills me I wasn't there for you this whole time. It must have been so hard." The chill atmosphere we'd had was gone.

"It was," she hissed. "It would have been harder having to deal with you. I had to think about myself. I'm sorry."

Another silence. I finished the beer and wished I had another. Hannah adjusted herself in the uncomfortable chair, and I held back a nasty thing I wanted to say. Instead, I took a breath and held it.

"I'm sorry," I said when I was done. "I know I said some awful things to you. I didn't realize it got so bad that you wouldn't want to reach out when something like this happened." I thought about her having to deal with this in the wake of an ugly breakup, and my stomach hurt. "When did you find out?"

"I missed a period that week we were fighting, and I don't think I even realized it," she said, picking at the fabric of her dress. "By the time I noticed, I figured it was because of stress. Then I barfed three times on the plane down here for Christmas." Her eyebrows went up. "I took the test in the guest bathroom, and... I don't know. It was a shitty Christmas." She sighed.

I remembered how self-pitying I'd been during that holiday, how miserable I was. Wishing she'd call or text, trying to figure out what to do with the concert tickets I'd gotten her and couldn't return. Having no idea what she was going through. "What made you decide to go through with it?" I asked. Honestly surprised that ambitious, career-driven Hannah, who'd thought of me as so much dead weight by the end, would quit her job and continue an unwanted pregnancy.

"I don't know," she said, shifting again in the chair, failing to find a comfortable position. She went to pull herself up and couldn't, but waved me back when I moved to help her. She got it on the second try, her belly wobbling as she found her balance. "I didn't have any moment where, you know, I heard the heartbeat and fell in love. I was sure I was going to get an abortion, as soon as I could find the time, and I just kept not making the appointment." She paced around, making tracks in the ugly carpet. I couldn't help but notice the extra sway in her hips and the extra jiggle in her butt, even through the loose-fitting dress.

"I always thought I'd be terrified if I got pregnant." She laughed. "I mean, you know that."

"Yeah," I said, thinking back to a pregnancy scare that had made her put the fake-belly stuff on pause.

"But when it actually happened, it was somehow the one thing I felt calm about." She was talking to the ceiling now. "Once I was out of the first trimester and started to show, I packed my stuff and came home."

"Did you quit your job?"

She nodded. "They said I'd be welcome back anytime. You started somewhere new?"

"Yep," I said, explaining the dull but lucrative tech job I'd gotten a few months after our breakup. "I moved out of that apartment too, got my own place. No more roommates."

Hannah smiled, turning to look at me. "Wow. Who would have thought a year ago you'd be the one with the good job and the fancy apartment, and I'd be living with my parents?" I took the insult, I was so happy to see her smile. I'd really missed it. And she had a point; my career had been a mess while we were together.

"It's a whole new Alex," I smirked, watching her hold the small of her back. Her belly looked even bigger when she did that, stretching out the flowers on her dress.

"And a whole new Hannah," she said, scratching her stomach. "Look at how much we've changed."

"You look great," I said, then blushed. It was the sort of thing that sounded cool and detached in my head, like I was totally over her. That's not the way it sounded out loud. I saw a little smirk come my way, a little glint in Hannah's eye that told me she hadn't forgotten our adventures with the pillow up her dress, but she chose not to address that particular elephant in the room just yet. Instead she circled around the bed and sat down behind me, grunting with effort. I turned and saw she was trying her best to remove her shoes.

"Let me help you," I said, and she shook her head. I shouldn't have been surprised. Miss Independent to the end. It was one of the things I liked about her. She got one flat yanked off, then crossed her legs the other way. I had to twist around, but I got a glimpse of her pale, smooth thighs and I actually shivered. She didn't notice. She tossed her shoes on the floor.

"My fucking feet are so swollen," she complained. "It was already impossible for me to find shoes. I'm a twelve now. That chair sucks, by the way."

"I know," I said, standing up and finding Hannah wasn't the only one wobbly on her feet. "You can have the bed." I stretched and looked at the clock. 10:41. "Where do your parents think you are?"

"I'm 26, they don't have to know where I am," she said. I gave her a look, knowing her parents. "I told them I was going to Danielle's place. My mom's always trying to get us to spend more time together; she almost pushed me out the door."

I smiled. Danielle was Hannah's older sister, the stay-at-home mom Hannah vowed never to be. "So she thinks you're babysitting?"

"Mm-hmm," Hannah murmured, still facing away from me, talking to the drawn curtains. The endless hum of airplanes continued over our heads.

"I'm surprised she wasn't the one who offered to take that baby off your hands," I said. That got a little laugh, a fake one. The beer was going through me, and I needed the bathroom. "Be right back."

After I peed, I splashed cold water on my face, trying to sober myself up. I wanted to remember this night clearly. Alcohol made me slow and sleepy, and I didn't want to pass out early while we still had the chance to talk. When I came back, Hannah was lying on top of the sheets, using all the pillows to prop herself up. Her feet bare, her ankles crossed. The way I'd found her waiting for me hundreds of times. I didn't want to go home.

"What?" she asked, finding me smiling at her like a goon.

"Nothing," I said, then reconsidered. "I've been wishing we could talk like this for months, Hannah. I'm sorry I was so shitty to you. I'm sorry I felt threatened by you, and didn't work on myself, and took you for granted. I'm sorry I told you you were cold and you weren't capable of love..." I had to take a breath. She looked up at me.

"We don't have to do this," she said, folding her hands on top of her belly.

"Yeah, but I might never see you again," I said, finding I was close to tears. "It, it broke my heart when you left, and then it broke it again when you disappeared... I had the best time of my life with you. I'm sorry I pretended I didn't. I miss you."

I wished she would get up and hug me from behind, nuzzling her face into my shoulder, like she used to when I got upset. Instead she listened and nodded. "Okay," she said.

"Okay?" Emotion rose in my voice.

"Okay, thank you for saying that," she said. "I appreciate it. It seems like you've been working on yourself. But..." she shrugged. "I don't want to get back together, if you think that's what this is. I just want that to be clear."

I sat down on the foot of the bed, deflating. Maybe I would pass out. It seemed like I had run into her at Pete's a week ago.

"I'm sorry for a lot of stuff I said too," Hannah told my back. "I'm sorry I said you'd never make anything of yourself. I'm sorry I called you a loser." I realized why it was hard for her to hear my apology. Hers just dredged up nasty memories all over again. "And I'm sorry I disappeared. I really am," she said. Her tone had changed a bit. I turned back to look at her.

"I know you would have taken care of me the last eight months. There've been days where I really wished you were there to do that," she said. I heard the hurt in those words and I wished I'd been there too. "But I wanted to be done. I wanted to be alone. I wanted us to stop hurting each other."

I shrugged, blinking away tears. "So much for that, huh?"

"So much for that," she echoed. It was quiet again. "Do you have anything to drink? Besides beer?"

I shook my head. "I can get you a water from the vending machine. I should probably drink some too."

"That would be great," she said. I got up and slid my shoes on. Worried that she'd disappear, I hustled to the vending machine, but when I got back there she was, adjusting her mountain of pillows. I handed her a bottle and she thanked me. After a few quick swallows, she giggled.

"What?" I asked, thinking I'd left my fly down or something.

"Cold water always wakes her up." Hannah smiled, moving a hand to her tummy. I almost gasped, the emotion that ran through me was so strong. This was what I'd always imagined when I fantasized. It wasn't just Hannah with a big belly and big boobs. It was Hannah giggling with my baby inside her, laying in my bed, a warm future ahead of us. Hannah both strong and fragile, needing me but also taking care of me. She looked up, her sweet green eyes meeting mine. "Do you want to feel?" I reached out from where I was standing, but she patted the empty side of the bed. I climbed in, resting my back against the hard headboard, then had to shimmy closer to be able to reach. I could feel the warmth of her body against mine as I just barely touched her stomach.

"Up here," she said, grasping my wrist and moving my hand to the top of her bump, closer to her breasts. That's when I got a real feel, not just grazing her but really taking her in, pressing my palm against her. It was real. Not a pillow. Warm, soft Hannah. A bit of squish, then firm and tight. I was just getting used to that bizarre miracle when I felt it-- an unmistakable jabbing movement from beneath Hannah's skin. Stronger than I would have imagined. I tried to say something and I realized I was crying.

"Right?" Hannah smiled, excited to share the moment. "Isn't that the wildest shit?" I nodded, but I still couldn't talk. I just sniffled. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, or even better, have her wrap her arms around me. I wanted to lay my head on her chest and listen to her heart. I wanted to doze off with her, feeling our baby squirm around inside her, and spend a lazy morning doing the same thing. It seemed like all I'd ever want.

"You alright?" she asked.

I nodded. "It's, uh, it's been a long day."

She laughed. "I know." She looked over at the clock. "Should I let you get to sleep?"

"No," I said, too quickly. My hand was still pressed to her stomach, though the movements had stopped. "I mean, not yet. If you can stay." So much for my cool, over-it facade. I'd told her she looked great, said I missed her, cried in front of her... I was a mess. I wiped my face. She put her hand over mine on her stomach and waited for me. A simple gesture, but so unimaginably tender I thought I might melt.

We were pressed up together in bed, side by side, and she turned ever so slightly towards me. Without thinking, I kissed her right on top of the head. "Uh," I said, ready to apologize. But she didn't say anything. Instead she laid her head on my shoulder, just like old times. The comforting weight of her against me. Her hair catching in my beard. I inhaled and smelled the same shampoo she'd always used. I kissed her head again, and her hand squeezed mine.

I put my other hand on her shoulder, holding her close. Feeling her warmth, listening to her breath. A long minute went by, where I was afraid to do anything lest I disrupt the moment. It was perfect. But finally, Hannah squirmed. "I gotta pee again," she said, and I let go. I sighed. It was almost midnight, and she'd have to head home anyway.

When she left the bathroom she went to the door. Was she leaving? "Hannah, wait. I'm sorry," I started. She turned and looked at me as she flicked the lightswitch, killing the harsh overhead lights. She came back to bed, grasped my shoulders and kissed me. I heard a plane take off, climbing farther and farther overhead until the sound faded. The kiss ended. Another one began. We tipped towards each other, lying on our sides, the mound of her tummy pressing into me. I stroked her cheek. Pushed away a flyaway strand of hair. She rubbed my back. I traced her side, my palm rising, falling, rising. Tracing curves that were familiar but not quite as I remembered them. She was softer all over, her hips wider. She was my Hannah and she wasn't. We kissed slowly, carefully.

She pulled away to catch her breath; her face was flushed. She laughed. I laughed. "I missed you too," she said quietly, facing the ceiling. "It's been really lonely." I put a hand on her shoulder, stroking her upper arm, feeling her soft skin. I'd had many lonely nights myself, dreaming of this exact thing. More or less. Hannah removed her glasses and set them on the bedside table, then turned back to me and we were making out again. I wanted to tear her clothes off, but a voice in my head told me to savor it. Take it slow. It might never happen again. So we kept kissing, almost lazily, and I kept reacquainting myself with her curves.

My hand caressed her hip through her dress, marveling in how it had changed in just a few short months, then slid down onto the globe of her stomach. Rubbing slow circles, taking in its size and its shape. I was enamored with it, how round and solid it was, the way it gently rose and fell with her breaths. How different it was from the soft, squishy tummy I was used to. How I knew it was full and round because of something we'd done together.

But I couldn't give her bump all the attention. I slid my hand down the fabric of Hannah's dress until I found bare skin, the back of her thigh, and I grasped gently. She let out a little moan, music to my ears. I rubbed there for a while, up and down, loving the smoothness of her skin. Her thighs were even thicker than I remembered, and I ached to get between them. My hand traveled up, under the fabric, and squeezed her big ass through her panties. Hannah moaned again, her kisses trailing off the side of my mouth, over my cheek, to my ear and my neck. It was like riding a bike. We were falling back into our rhythm, the reliable moves we'd made on each other dozens of times.

I grasped her butt cheek hard as she kissed and nipped at my neck, my toes curling with pleasure, energy sparking in me that needed somewhere to go. I took my hand out from under her dress and slapped her butt-- timidly, compared to the way I used to do it. Her flesh jiggled beneath my hand, and I liked it, and I did it again.

"Harder," she hissed in my ear. My hesitations about spanking a pregnant girl vanished, and I hit her butt hard with my palm, a nice smack filling the air. She groaned. I was rock hard, everything down there aching, needing relief. Hannah nuzzled my neck, kissing me then tracing a path with her tongue. I grasped her shoulders and moved her back so I could kiss her lips again. Not so slow and lazy anymore.

I brushed her lips with my tongue, and her tongue pressed back. We panted, out of breath already. I pulled her as close to me as I could, her breasts against my chest, her full belly against my stomach, my bulge against the bottom of her bump. My clothes felt hotter and more restrictive by the second. Was I really still wearing jeans?

I rolled away and sat up so I could pull my shirt off. Hannah laid there panting, watching me. Then I undid my belt. Awkwardly I lifted my butt, working to tug my jeans down without getting up. Finally I kicked them off along with my socks, leaving me in just my bulging shorts. She smiled but didn't move to take her own clothes off, and when I reached over and pulled on the hem of her dress she put her hand on mine.

"Can we turn the light off?" she asked, nodding to the bedside lamp.

"I want to see you," I said. "You know I do."

"I know, I know," she said. "But I still feel weird about it."

"You're beautiful," I told her, my hand on her hip. "You're always beautiful. You look fucking amazing. I want to see you." Still she hesitated. Then she grunted as she rolled over and got to her knees in bed.

"Okay," she said, tugging at her dress. "Help me out of it? Please don't rip it, I don't have much that fits."

My heart raced with anticipation. Together we tugged the dress up, over her belly, her breasts... she raised her arms and we got it free, throwing it over the side of the bed. Hannah blushed hard, looking down at the sheets, avoiding my eye.

"Wow," I breathed, taking a second to stare at her. She didn't look like a pregnant woman in a magazine, a stick figure with a perfectly round bump. She was big to begin with, and her body had always driven me wild. But now... her hips were wide. Her breasts were swollen and huge, her cleavage formidable in a plain tan bra that was far too small. In the middle of it all was her belly, looking even bigger than it had under her clothes. It hung so low it covered her crotch as she knelt. She didn't have the popped-out bellybutton that some women get; instead her navel was a shallow void. Her skin was pale and clear, but jagged purple stretchmarks formed a rainbow across her lower belly and onto her hips. Maybe that's what she was worried about. Maybe it was just stripping in front of me after several months where she'd changed a lot and thought a lot about terrible things I said. Maybe she worried I'd just see her as some sort of fetish object.