I slide my naked leg between his thighs. Dev is trying a case tomorrow; he's tired. But he owes me his touch, and I know exactly how to use my tongue.
His lips disappear between his teeth when I break the news. He says he's not ready—no diapers for him—but I know he is. I'll do the hard part. I promise.
My fingers knead the curve of my belly. Dev slips an arm around my waist and grins at his boss. Proud papa.
Dev can't keep his hands off me, calls me sexy mama, but when he’s not around, I fret. Eight months along and my bump so small.
Skull bones don't always fuse together, the doctor tells me. I call Dev, but he's in court, won't request a recess, even when I beg. The hard part, I see, will be losing both.
Gay Degani’s stories can be read at Metazen, LITnIMAGE, Night Train, 10 Flash and Emprise Review, among others. Nominated for a Pushcart, she edits EDF’s Flash Fiction Chronicles, blogs at Words in Place, and works as a staff editor at SmokeLong Quarterly.