K. Golland - Attainment

The notion that her feet can resemble piglets makes me want to laugh, and I feel my anger toward her slipping away.

“Two...” she points to another finger, clearly not finished with her defensive tirade. “My nipples are dry and sore and starting to leak colostrum. Would you like to hear more?” she asks, pausing only for a second. “Good, ‘cause I’ll give you more,” she continues, not allowing me the option to refuse. “I have the constant need to urinate. I feel like I could shit a brick. I have heartburn from hell. And I am so hungry I could eat a horse.”

Colostrum? What the fuck is colostrum? And why is it leaking from her nipples?

I don’t answer her for a minute as I try to process the list she has just heatedly rattled off, a list I need to get onto. The fact she could eat a horse stands out to me as the first problem I can solve.

My absent reply—I can only assume—frustrates her further as she huffs and starts to turn away. “They are just back spasms, Bryce. I didn’t think it was that important.”

I soften my voice, feeling like an absolute piece of shit for making her upset. “Hunny, everything to do with you and our baby is important.”

She stops, turns back around and sighs, exhaustion clearly present. “Honestly, they come and go. They haven’t bothered me until recently. I used to get them a lot when I was pregnant with Charli which is why Rick caught onto it straight away. I’m not deliberately keeping my ailments from you.”

I take the remaining steps between us and place my hands on her shoulders. “I want to know everything, EVERYTHING that is happening with that body of yours. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what is going on.”

Wrapping her hands around my waist, she closes the remaining distance between us as she pulls herself to me, the gorgeous bulge in her belly preventing our complete unity. “Okay, but you can’t help me shit a brick, or stop me from constantly peeing.”

“No, but I can dish you up a horse.”

She laughs. “I know my cravings are crazy, but steed sandwiches are definitely a no no.”

“What’s colostrum?” I ask, my thoughts back to her nipples.

She pulls away and smiles then lets out an adorable giggle. “It’s pre-breast milk.”

Pre-breast milk? I can’t help but look at her breasts.

Suddenly, I feel a slap and a push to my chest and she is no longer in my arms.

“I’m not going to drown you in it, you know,” Alexis deadpans as she walks away.

“What? I...I didn’t say that.”

I quickly take off, capturing her and holding her back to my front.

“You didn’t have to,” she says in a sulky voice. “You looked at my breasts as though they were ready to shoot at you like a fire hose.”

I laugh out loud. “I did not. Although...”

Feeling her struggle to free herself from my arms, I hold her tighter, her freedom not even in the cards. “I’m kidding. No, seriously, I just thought they couldn’t leak anything until after BB is born. And speaking of BB, can we please discuss names? I really cannot bring myself to call him that anymore.”

“Why not? It’s cute.” She drops her head back onto my shoulder and looks up at me with a smirk. “I was actually thinking of calling him that officially.”

I squint at her, narrowing my gaze and trying to assess whether she is bluffing or not. “Don’t kid a kidder, my love”

“I’m not.”

“You better be, because there is no way in hell we are naming our son BB.”

She bites the inside of her bottom lip and smiles. “Fine, but I at least want his name to begin with B.”

“Why?”

“No reason,” she shrugs.

Leaning forward, I plant a quick kiss on her forehead, causing her eyes to close momentarily. I love how her eyelids fall heavy for the smallest of moments when I kiss her. It shows her vulnerability to my touch. “Okay, the letter B it is. It’s a good letter,” I confidently grin at her.

“Hmm, I know,” she moans, arching her head back further, her lips reaching for mine.

Lowering my head so that I can give her what she wants, what I want—what I always want, to taste her—I savour the feel of her sweet warm mouth, the soft silky glide of her tongue against mine. She tastes like the most delectable form of oral consumption known to man, and I am the lucky son of a bitch who solely gets to consume her.

Regretfully, I separate my mouth from hers and pull away. “I have a little work to do.”

She pouts, and it’s so fucking lovable. “Fine, you important business man. I have a date with a very naughty priest anyway.”

What naughty priest? This is the first I’ve heard of Alexis being religious.

I pull my head back from her in slight disbelief. “Priest?”

“Yes, Father Stearns.”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No. But after reading this book, I’m thinking of possibly converting.”

“What book?”

She laughs and gives me a little shove. “Never mind. Go, go and do what you do.”

I take a few steps backward in the direction of my office, still confused by this Stearns bloke.

Still laughing, Alexis blows me a kiss. “Don’t look so concerned.”

“I’m not. I’m not scared of a priest.”

As I turn and open the door to my office, I hear her mumble something barely audible until I hear the word clown.

I pause.

“I love you,” she calls out, giggling.

“Hmmm,” is my only response.

I spend the next hour looking up baby names beginning with the letter B. Let’s just ignore the fact that I am supposed to be finalising the complex’s involvement in the upcoming AFL Grand Final celebrations, because the thought of giving my son a name is far more important.

“Bailey,” I say to myself. Nah, too much like Irish Cream. “Bane,” I voice with a wishy-washy tone. Hmmm .

I decide to check the meaning behind that particular name. “Son of a farmer.” No, that won’t do, although, he is the grandson of a farmer.

I keep scanning.

“Beaver?” Are you fucking for real, who would call their son Beaver? “Bowel?” Now that’s just cruel. I shake my head and keep reading down the list. “Boyd.” Maybe. It does say that Boyd means blonde haired, and I’m fairly certain our son will be blonde.

Scanning further down the list, I spot my name. Curious as to its meaning, I read on. “Ambitious and quick minded,” I smile and nod. Fuckin’ oath, I am.

My phone rings, breaking my attention to the name searching. I pick it up and notice Derek’s goofy looking face on my screen. “Hey, Mate. What’s goin’ on?”

“I was thinking ‘bout the intro song for the next gig. How ‘bout ‘Birth’ by 30STM?” Derek suggests, apparently forgetting the courtesy of a greeting.

“Yeah, nice! Have you spoken to Will about it? That song is all about the drums.”

“Yeah, Will’s on board.”

“Good. I guess we open with ‘Birth’ then,” I reply, still gazing at the list of names on the screen in front of me.

“You busy?”

“No, not really. Just lookin’ up baby names.”

“Call the little tacker Derek.”

“Fuck off, Dickhead. I’m not calling him Derek.”

“Why? It means big knob.”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

Ignoring my insult, Derek continues. “He who owns largest cock. Almighty and powerful with massive dong.”

While he’s spinning bullshit into my ear, I look up the real meaning of his name. “You are bloody shittin’ me,” I say out loud.

“What? You just looked up my name, didn’t you? What’s it say? It says big cock doesn’t it?”