come unbidden to my mind. Instead, I point to the bed. “On your side, here?” I wait for her reply. She sits down on the edge of the bed and rolls, lifting her feet. She lies flat on her back, her big basketball of a stomach lifting up high and round. I laugh at her. I can’t help it. “Are you laughing at my belly?” she asks, but she’s smiling too. It’s a tired, needy kind of smile, but still a smile. “I love your belly,” I admit. I’m fascinated by it. I want to touch it and look at it, and… I kind of wish it was mine. She lifts a brow at me. “You love my belly.” Her curiosity turns into a glare. “Be serious, Jake. I’m like a beached whale.” I sit down next to her and reach down to touch her belly, but at the last minute I stop because I should probably ask for permission. I can’t just fondle her belly. “You’re getting an outie,” I tell her as I stick the tip of my finger against her belly button.
