You’re standing in front of the mirror, trying to decide if the shirt you’ve picked out is too tight or not. I come up beside you and slip one arm around your waist and settle my other hand on your—no, our—belly.
“I might’ve put on a few lately,” you say, giving it a rueful pat. “Do you think this still fits?”
Truthfully, it is borderline, and you could probably get away with it if you kept your gut sucked in. I place my finger over the button that strains the most.
“Whether it fits or not depends on how hungry you are today.” In the mirror, I can see you flush a little and your breathing speed up. You turn toward me and pull me firmly into your belly.
“I’m very hungry today,” you growl into my ear.
