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Pregnant as she is – incredibly round with two children, her back aching and her every footfall feeling heavy as a load of bricks – Liz can’t sleep beside her boyfriend for longer than fifteen minutes. He radiates a comforting heat on most nights but with babies sometimes she needs air, and finds herself walking the corridors of their living quarters alone.
But she’s not in that state for long. HB finds her quickly – she should have remembered that he couldn’t sleep well when she had to get up. Gently, carefully, he rubs his hand along the curve of her spine and she groans as her muscles are blessed with life-affirming heat.
“Holding up all right?” he asks. Then the heat of him is gone – and he’s already making her a bow of Lucky Charms and pulling a jar of dill pickles out of the fridge.
“I am,” she said, giving him a smile. He smirks back, and starts slicing the pickles for her cereal.