"How will I bathe him?" She cried. "How will I heat his bottles and feed him without burning him? I won't even know if the bottle is hot!"

"Same as you bathe yourself. Same as you feed yourself. You've been doing fine, Topolina."

"What if something happens to me while you're at the hospital working and he's in the house all alone crying for thirty hours straight; hungry and sitting in his own mess?"

I unbuckled my seatbelt and then hers. "Come to me."

She gasped for air. "This is so stupid. I can't believe we did this."

"Everly Anne."

She held her head in her hands. "I should have stayed in New York. This was too selfish. Loving you has become too selfish."

I groaned sitting back in my seat. "I really want to comfort you right now, Everly Anne, I do, but the shit coming out of your mouth is making that virtually impossible."

She looked up and glared at me. "I'm so sorry that me having a nervous breakdown is inconvenient to you, Callum Andrew!"

"You're not having a nervous breakdown," I sighed. "You're having the same damn panic attack all new mothers have. You're no different than any other new mom."

"Choke on those words, Callum. I could not be any more different than other moms! Other moms can feel their babies kicking inside of their stomach." She popped the door handle and stepped into the pouring rain. I chased after her, lifting her unwillingly into my arms as she yelled for me to leave her alone. I brought her in the house and held my hand on the door as she tried to leave.

"Please fuckin' stop it, Everly Anne." She pushed me away but I held her hands in mine. "Just stop. You're pregnant, there's a fuckin' monsoon outside, and you're not going anywhere. Hate me from upstairs in our bedroom if it makes you feel better-preferably in warm, dry clothes." But then I glanced over her. The fabric of her soaked cotton dress clung to her full breasts, outlining them exquisitely. I touched her wet hair, brushing it away from her cold face. "Or we could stop fighting," I whispered, "and I could . . ." I leaned in for her mouth, but she backed away, pressing against the front door. I stepped closer. "I could take your wet clothes off." I went for her chin and kissed her softly. "And I could draw you a nice warm bath." I kissed her neck, dotting along her skin until I reached the hills of her breasts. She panted under my mouth, her hands coming away from the door, and grasping my hair. "And I could . . ." I slid her wet dress down to her hips, and palmed her left breast. "Show you how unselfish my love is."

She gripped my hair as I took her into my mouth. "Your love is perfect," she whispered. "It's me. I'm the selfish one."

I kissed her right breasts and then squeezed my hands around her hips, moving my mouth just below hers. "Our baby won't need you to heat bottles to feed him, because he'll have the warm milk of your breasts as nourishment, and you will know how to do it, just as every other woman has known how to do it for eons."

In labored breaths she argued, "They don't offer breastfeeding classes just for grins and giggles."

My hands slid under her dress and pulled the hem of her underwear down to her knees.

"The father of your baby happens to know his way around unruly breasts and babies." I gripped her cheeks. "I have a degree that proves my words are true." I kissed her bare shoulder. "I have hands that feel you're shivering, too." I kissed her again. "Want me to warm you now? Or would you rather keep fighting?"

Her hands slid from my hair and rushed across my clothes, pulling buttons, pushing away layers between us. We only made it to the couch.

After we made love, she lay in the crook of my arm as my fingers traced her side.

"I didn't mean what I said," she whispered. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I want more than this baby with you."

"I know, Everly Anne." I kissed her spine. "But I did mean what I said. You're going to know what to do. I believe that with my whole heart."

"Well," she sighed against me, "as long as it's with your whole heart." Softly she chuckled.

I rested on my elbow and peered down to her. "What's funny, Topolina?"

"I was convinced another part of your body was making this argument. A little further south of your whole heart."

"No," I said, "That part was trying to keep my insane, pregnant, girlfriend in our house so she didn't get swept away by the monsoon." I kissed her head. "You foolish girl."

"There aren't any monsoons in Georgia, Callum Andrew." She kissed my arm. "And you're just as foolish as I am."

"But a better arguer," I smiled.

She smiled too. "A much better arguer."

I moved to rest between her legs, keeping my weight on my forearms. "Should we start on how you're going to bath our baby?" My body searched hungrily for hers. "Do we need to finish that argument?"

She drew her hands up and down my arms. "Does it involve the warm bath you talked about against the . . ." she fell silent as I entered her. " . . . door."

Inside the darkness of our bedroom she whispered to me, asking if I was awake.

"I'm here." I put my hand under the covers, and found her bare hip. "What's wrong?"

She curled into my side-a rare thing-her body close to mine as we slept. Quieter than a mouse she asked, "Do you think we could call him?"