That Afternoon I Handed Him the Test Without Saying a Word

Two weeks after getting back from the trip, I started to notice little changes. I thought it was exhaustion, the work routine, the disorder of mealtimes. But something deep down was telling me that wasn’t it. That it was something else.

One Tuesday afternoon I bought the test at the corner pharmacy. I carried it in my bag all day as if it were a secret. When I got home, I left it on the sink and stood staring at it, not daring to open it yet.

Esteban wouldn’t be home until eight. I had time.

I did the test almost without breathing. Two endless minutes, staring at the bathroom ceiling, counting the tiles I’d already counted a hundred times. When I looked down, there they were: the two lines. Clear, unmistakable, final.

I was pregnant.

I sat on the bathroom floor with the test in my hand and burst out laughing and crying at the same time. I didn’t know what to do with all that was growing inside me. The feeling was so huge it barely fit in my body.

I decided not to call him. I wanted to see his face when he found out.

***

Esteban arrived after eight, his tie loose and that grimace of exhaustion he gets on long days. I was waiting for him in the kitchen, pretending to tidy the counter. The test was inside an envelope, on the table.

—What’s going on? —he asked when he saw me—. You’ve got a weird look on your face.

—Open that —I said, pointing at the envelope.

He looked at me suspiciously, dropped his bag on the floor, and picked up the envelope. He opened it slowly, as if he knew something important was inside. When he took out the test, he went silent. He looked at it for a second. Then another. He lifted his eyes to me.

—Is it true? —he asked, his voice thinner than usual.

I nodded. I couldn’t make a sound.

Esteban set the test down on the table with almost ridiculous care, as if it were made of glass. And then, without saying another word, he crossed the kitchen and hugged me so hard he lifted me a few centimeters off the floor. He held me there against his chest, breathing into my hair.

—We’re going to be parents —he murmured, more to himself than to me.

I couldn’t speak. I just hugged him and let him hold me.

***

I don’t know exactly when everything changed, but it changed. Esteban pulled back a little to look at me, and there was something in his eyes I had never seen before. It wasn’t tenderness, and it wasn’t just joy. It was a dark, hungry urgency that made me feel naked even with my clothes on. He looked at my mouth, at my breasts over my blouse, looked at me as if he had just discovered I was his in a new way.

He kissed me. And that kiss wasn’t like any before. He pushed his tongue deep inside, searching for mine, sucking on it slowly, biting my lower lip until I was moaning into his mouth. There was something possessive about it, animal, as if he wanted to leave it engraved in me that what was happening belonged to both of us and to no one else, that he had made that child in me, with his cock, and now he was going to remind me by fucking me as if it were the first time.

I kissed him back, tangling my fingers in his hair, yanking his head back so I could bite his neck. His hands slid down my back to my ass, and he squeezed it hard with both palms, pulling me tight against him. I felt his cock already hard against my belly, pressing through his pants, searching for me. Suddenly he lifted me as if I weighed nothing. I wrapped my legs around his waist, rubbing myself against the bulge, and like that, without separating, his tongue still in my mouth, he carried me to the bedroom.

The afternoon light came through the window and drew orange stripes across the sheets. He laid me on the bed on my back and stood at the foot of the mattress, looking down at me while he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time without taking his eyes off my crotch. He pulled down his pants, his underwear, and his cock sprang free, hard, thick, the vein standing out along the length and the tip already shiny with liquid. He grabbed it with his hand, squeezed once, twice, looking at me as if deciding where to start eating me.

—Take your clothes off —he told me, his voice rough—. I want to see all of you.

I took off my blouse, my bra, my panties, everything tossed aside carelessly. I stayed naked on top of the coverlet, legs bent and a little open, watching his cock move in his hand just from looking at me. He climbed onto the bed on all fours, positioned himself between my thighs, and bent down to kiss my neck, my collarbone, the tops of my breasts. He licked one whole breast, from bottom to top, until he closed his lips around the nipple and sucked on it hungrily, while his other hand kneaded the other breast, squeezing my nipple between his fingers until a long moan tore out of me.

—They’re fuller —he murmured against my skin, moving to the other breast—. They’re already changing for him.

He bit my nipple slowly as he said it, and I arched my back against his mouth, searching for him with my hips. I could feel my own cunt soaking, pulsing, slick, begging him to go lower already. I yanked his hair downward without hiding it. He laughed against my breast, a hot purr, and started kissing his way down, mouth open and tongue out, leaving a trail of saliva over my stomach.

When he reached my belly, he stopped. He laid his whole palm on the skin, still smooth, and held it there. I covered his hand with mine. We said nothing. It wasn’t necessary.

And then he kept going down. He kissed my stomach once, twice; the third time his tongue drew a long line toward my navel, dipped inside, came back out, kept going down. He spread my thighs with both hands, pushing them apart until my cunt was fully open in front of his face. He stared at it for a few seconds, breathing heavily, his cock dripping between his legs.

—Look at how you are —he said, dragging one finger through my lower lips, up and down, gathering my slick—. You’re dripping.

He put the finger in his mouth and sucked it slowly, looking me straight in the eyes. I gripped the sheets in both hands. He leaned down, never breaking eye contact, and gave me the first full lick, from bottom to top, wide and flat, dragging everything from my ass to my clit. A gasp escaped me that I couldn’t hold back. I grabbed his hair with both hands and pressed his face hard against me.

He started eating me hungrily. He sucked my clit with his lips closed, tugging at it gently, then let it go to push his whole tongue inside me, fucking me with it, sliding in and out. He put two fingers in at once while still sucking my clit, and curled them inside, searching for that spot he knows better than I do. He moved them slowly, with just the right rhythm, making little circles in there while his tongue worked me from the outside. He held my hips when I tried to escape, setting the pace himself, calm, almost cruel.

—Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop —I begged him, grabbing my breast and pinching my own nipple—. I’m going to come, Esteban, I’m going to come in your mouth.

He sped up his tongue, sucking harder, pushing deeper with his fingers, and at the exact second I was about to explode, he let it all go. He pulled his fingers out, moved his mouth away, and stayed there, breathing over me, watching me tremble all over at the edge without being able to finish.

I looked at him with glassy eyes, panting, begging him without words. A tear of rage slipped out.

—Asshole —I muttered—. Finish it.

—You’re sucking me first —he told me, crawling back up my body—. I need your mouth.

He sat astride my chest, his cock pointing at my face. It was swollen, red, with a thick drop hanging from the tip. He grabbed it and ran it over my lips, smearing them with it. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, and he pushed it in slowly, all the way in, until I felt the tip bumping the back of my throat.

—Like that, fuck, like that —he growled, grabbing my hair with both hands.

He started fucking my mouth at his own pace, in and out, looking at me the whole time. I sucked him hungrily, hollowing my cheeks, squeezing his cock between my lips every time he slid out. I took him all the way out and licked the tip with my tongue flat, circling the head, then pushed him back in to the hilt. I grabbed his balls with one hand and squeezed them gently, playing with them while I kept sucking him. He threw his head back and let out a long, rough moan.

—You’re going to do me in —he gasped—. Stop, stop or I’m going to come in your mouth.

He pulled his cock out, all of it shiny with my saliva, and slid back down my body until he was between my legs again. He took his cock in his hand and ran it over my cunt, up and down, wetting it with my fluids, rubbing it deliberately against my clit until he made me tremble.

—Put it in me already —I begged—. Please, Esteban.

When he entered me, he did it with a slowness that made me close my eyes. Every centimeter was a deliberate act, a way of saying with his cock everything he hadn’t said with words. He filled me completely, slowly, until I felt his balls pressed against my ass. He stayed there, still, all the way inside, looking at my face.

—You’re so tight —he murmured—. You can tell you’re knocked up, fuck, you squeeze differently.

He pulled out slowly, almost to the tip, and drove himself back into me in one thrust that made me moan out loud. He started fucking me deep, slow, every thrust marked, every withdrawal slow and every entry dry to the hilt. I wrapped my legs around him to pull him deeper, crossing my ankles over his lower back, and he answered by speeding up, letting himself be carried away by something he could no longer hold back. Our hands intertwined over the pillow. He rested his forehead against mine. Our breaths mixed into the same hot air.

—Tell me it’s mine —he gasped against my mouth—. Tell me I made it in you.

—It’s yours, fuck, it’s yours, you made it in me —I shot back breathlessly—. You made it happen with this cock.

He growled like an animal and sped up. He drove into me to the hilt, mercilessly, and I could feel each thrust shaking my whole body against the mattress. The bed springs squeaked. The headboard slammed against the wall with a dry rhythm we couldn’t stop. He grabbed one breast with his free hand and squeezed it hard, pinching my nipple between thumb and forefinger without letting go of me.

He changed the angle a little, propping himself on his elbows, and lifted one leg up onto his shoulder. He left the other open against the mattress. There he found that spot that makes me lose my mind. His cock rubbed inside me, exactly there, with every thrust. I tensed all over beneath him, starting to shake from my legs upward.

—I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming —I said, and it wasn’t my voice anymore.

—Come on my cock —he ordered—. Now.

I exploded. A long spasm that shook me from my back to my feet, a cry that slipped out before I could control it, my cunt clenching his cock in waves while he kept driving into me without stopping. I said his name as if it were coming from very far away. Still trembling, I felt him bury himself to the hilt one last time, stay still inside, and let out a dull moan against my neck while I felt him coming inside me, in hot, long spurts, filling me completely. I dug my nails into his back and bit his shoulder, feeling his cock keep throbbing inside me, emptying itself completely.

He stayed inside me, still, breathing hard, his face buried in my neck. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, almost in the same rhythm. Little by little his breathing calmed. When he finally pulled out of me, he did it slowly, and I felt a warm stream running down my thigh. He looked at it. He slipped two fingers in there, scooping up his own come mixed with my fluids, and pushed it back inside me calmly, with a half-brutal smile.

—Keep it in —he murmured—. That’s where it belongs.

I laughed, exhausted, and slapped his arm. He collapsed beside me and kissed me again, this time with a tenderness that had nothing in common with the urgency before. His lips were salty. So were mine.

We stayed wrapped around each other for a good while, me with my head on his chest, him stroking my belly with an open hand, slowly, as if he could already feel something there.

***

We decided not to tell anyone yet. We wanted to keep the secret a few more weeks, live it alone, let the idea fit inside us first before going out to look for other people’s reactions.

They were strange, beautiful weeks. Silent dinners that weren’t awkward, looks that said everything, hands finding each other under the table at any gathering. Esteban treated me with a new kind of care, not suffocating, just different, as if I had become a little more valuable overnight. And he fucked me differently too. More often. For longer. He came up behind me in the kitchen while I washed dishes, pulled down my panties and slid into me right there, braced against the counter, whispering filthy things in my ear while he thrust into me. He woke me up in the middle of the night with his mouth between my legs. He asked me to suck him off before leaving for work, leaning against the bathroom wall. It was as if he needed to remind himself, again and again, that that child was his, that I was his, that he had made it in me.

When the time came, we organized a dinner at home with both sides of the family. My mother, my father, the in-laws, and my sister Paula, who came from Valencia just for that night even though she still didn’t know why.

During dessert, Esteban squeezed my hand under the tablecloth. I nodded.

—We want to tell you something —he said, and everyone at the table looked up at the same time.

—We’re going to have a baby —I said.

There was a second of absolute silence, one of those moments when it feels like the air hangs suspended. And then everything broke at once. My mother let out a scream that startled me. My mother-in-law put her hands to her face. The men got up to hug Esteban, slapping him on the back, and Paula ran over to hug me with tears already in her eyes.

—I’m going to be an aunt! —she kept repeating—. I’m going to be an aunt!

My mother couldn’t stop crying. My father-in-law was the first to say the sensible things: that they had to take care of me, that we had to go to the doctor, that we had to think about where we were going to put the crib. Esteban was looking at me from the other side of the table with a smile that wouldn’t leave his face. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

That night, after everyone left, we stayed alone in the kitchen clearing plates. Esteban hugged me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder. I felt his cock waking up against my ass right away, pressing through his pants. I laughed softly.

—It went well —he murmured, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck.

—It went well —I repeated, pushing my ass back against him.

He lifted my skirt right there, leaning against the sink, pulled my panties down to my ankles, and drove into me from behind in one thrust while covering my mouth with his hand so I wouldn’t scream. He fucked me fast, desperate, not pulling all the way out, until he came again inside me, his forehead pressed to my back. Then he pulled my panties back up himself, carefully, and kissed the nape of my neck.

***

I gave Mariana the news by phone the next day. We had been friends since university, and you could tell from her voice that she was on the verge of crying before she even hung up.

—I swear I’m coming over right now —she told me—. I don’t know what I’m bringing you, but I’m coming.

She showed up an hour later with a bouquet of flowers she’d bought in a rush and a sponge cake she’d baked herself, still warm. We spent the afternoon sitting on the living room floor, talking about names, diapers, fears, everything that was about to hit us. Mariana promised me, half joking and half serious, that she would be at every ultrasound and that the baby would have the most overbearing godmother in the world. I laughed. I hugged her. I cried a little.

***

The months that followed passed mixing the magical with the exhausting. The nausea of the first few weeks left me with no energy to argue with anyone. The tiredness was new, different, almost like a stone hanging from my chest. But I also started to notice how my body was changing, how my belly was rounding out little by little, how my breasts were growing to the point I hardly recognized them, how my skin had a glow it had never had before. And how horny I was all the time. At every hour. I woke up wet, went to bed wet, spent the day squeezing my thighs discreetly under the work table. Esteban took advantage, and I let him take advantage of me hungrily. We fucked in the morning before getting up, and many nights he ended up with his head between my legs, eating me slowly until I came two, three times in a row, gripping my own swollen breasts while he licked my clit nonstop.

Esteban got involved in every detail. He came with me to every appointment, even when he had to take days off work. He memorized the list of forbidden foods. He painted the baby’s room himself on weekends, silently, while I watched him from the doorway drinking tea. Some of those afternoons, with the brush still in his hand and paint splattered on his arms, he would take me to the bedroom and fuck me slowly, putting me on my side because I couldn’t lie on my back for long anymore, his open hand over my round belly while he slid into me from behind with calm.

We talked a lot. About things we had never talked about before. About how we had been raised, what things we wanted to repeat and what things we didn’t, the names we liked and the ones we didn’t. We didn’t agree, but arguing about it was part of the pleasure. It was about thinking together of someone who didn’t exist yet but was already in the middle of everything we did.

The grandparents became unbearable in the best possible way. My mother called every three days to ask how I was. My mother-in-law showed up one Sunday with a box of baby clothes she had saved from when Esteban was a baby, folded with a care that nearly made me cry. Everyone had their favorite name. Everyone had their advice. I nodded and then chose whatever I wanted.

We went to childbirth preparation classes together. Esteban was the most annoying one in the group, asking questions that left the midwife flustered, and the first time he gave me the lower-back massage he did it so badly that I laughed right in the middle of the exercise. But he learned fast. He learned with that stubbornness of his, the kind of man who doesn’t give up. By the fifth class he knew how to breathe with me, count with me, support my back as if he had been doing it all his life.

***

Sometimes at night, when he was already asleep, I stayed awake watching him. I’d put a hand on my belly and feel those shy movements that were becoming less and less shy. I thought about that afternoon, about that test on the sink, about his arms lifting me off the kitchen floor, about his cock buried to the hilt while he told me that child was his. And it seemed impossible that all of it had begun in such a small, ordinary moment.

I also thought about how little I knew of what was coming. How much the two of us would have to learn. The sleepless nights, the fears, the doubts, the moments when we would argue without knowing why. I knew all that was going to happen. But I also knew, with a certainty I had never had before in my life, that we were going to be together through every one of those moments.

Esteban shifted in his sleep and reached for me with his hand without opening his eyes. He rested it on my belly and went still again. I closed my eyes. Smiled to myself in the dark.

And I fell asleep thinking that this, whatever came after, was already worth it.