Chapter 14
Celeste
I wake up the next morning feeling like my lower stomach is tying itself into spasming knots.
My period came last night before bed, which is slightly later than normal.
Maybe the new hormones are messing with it, who knows.
I knew it couldn’t be late for any other reason, because I sure as hell have not done any baby making activities in a long time.
Taking a couple of pain killers last night would have been the smart move to get ahead of the agony, but I had been so wrapped up in thoughts of Gage, the fact that we are freaking married now, and the talk we had last night, that I forgot.
Part of me was also hopeful that I wouldn’t need them, that the hormones would do their job to make the pain bearable.
I’ve been pretty pain free up until today, just some little twinges in the past week.
So maybe the hormones have helped, but now I’m screwed.
A saving grace is that I don’t have a diner shift today, but I do have community service at the animal shelter in the next town over.
Dogs will take the pain away like nothing else can, so I’m actually looking forward to it.
I don’t have to be there for a couple of hours though, and I know Gage will be around until he has to go open the bar, so we’ll be spending a cute husband and wife cozy morning together.
I’m totally fine with that. Completely and utterly fine after he admitted he feels something going on between us, too.
My first night in his house had been so nice that I barely knew what to do with myself.
I had no idea what to think or feel because being made to feel this at home is such a jarring, new sensation.
The sounds of someone working in the kitchen, birds chattering, and the smell of something sweet, have me sliding out of bed and padding into the hall bathroom to make myself somewhat presentable.
Once my hair is smoothed out, the eye boogers are gone, and my breath isn’t rancid, I head downstairs in my worn concert tee and sleep shorts.
In my mind I keep telling myself to be cool, that Gage and I are still the same friends we’ve been since the day I first met him.
Anything more than that is going to require getting a lot of things figured out, my own shit first and foremost.
Gage turns when he hears me come into the kitchen, giving me a sleepy smile.
I’m unprepared for sleep rumpled Gage. A white tee clings to his torso, well-muscled legs in a pair of black athletic shorts leaning against the counter.
His thick, dark hair is mussed with Daisy making a nest in it, his eyes a little bleary in that cute way.
Eyes that are currently behind a set of round black framed glasses as he reads some mail while keeping an eye on the pancakes he’s cooking on the griddle.
“Good morning,” he says with a yawn. “How’d you sleep?”
“You wear glasses?” is my brilliant response.
“Only for reading sometimes if it’s not digital and I can’t make the print bigger.
I’ve always been far sighted,” he explains with a small laugh.
Fuck me, as if I’m not confused about him enough, he has to go and put on glasses?
Between them, his arm ink, and that silver chain he likes to wear, it’s like he knows exactly what my kryptonite is. I just nod in response.
“Hungry? I’ve got pancakes going, they usually make Mondays suck a lot less.”
“You don’t need to make me breakfast,” I quickly tell him. He huffs an annoyed breath.
“I know you don’t want me to dote on you, and I respect that.
Let me make it clear that I’m also not going to be an asshole, though.
If I’m making pancakes, I’m making enough for both of us.
It’s basic human decency, but you don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to.
I can always freeze them,” he says gently, his annoyance now gone.
“I know we didn’t get married for the reasons a lot of people do, but I’m still going to treat my wife well,” he goes on with a twinkle in his eye. Daisy lets out a big chirp of agreement from her hair nest.
The way he says, “my wife,” in that sleepy, raspy voice almost makes my toes curl. Goddamn him for being so good and helpful. Why can’t he be easy to hate like most other men?
“I’ll have some because Daisy bullied me into it just now,” I tease.
He lets out a hum.
“It’s always best to listen to her, she can get mean,” he agrees, moving to slide three finished pancakes onto a plate and handing it to me. “Syrup is on the table, and there is plenty of coffee in the pot with creamer, caramel syrup, and sugar next to it,” he adds.
“Breakfast,” Hermes says in that funny, croaky voice he has from his perch in the breakfast room. I put my plate down at the table and give him some head scratches before quickly making myself a coffee. He picks up a tiny blue metal wrench near him with his beak.
“What is that, Hermes?” Gage asks from the kitchen.
“Wrench.”
“Such a good job, buddy. Want some blueberries?”
“Want a snack,” he replies excitedly.
I shake my head in amazement as Gage comes over with a handful of blueberries.
“Here, want to give them to him? Then you’ll really be his bff.”
“Sure,” I say, holding out my hand. He dumps the blueberries into it and goes back to the griddle.
“Here’s your snack, Hermes! Want your blueberries?
” I ask him as I approach his perch. He’s so gentle as he eats them out of my hand, and that earns him another head scratch.
Gage reaches up to his hair to feed a couple of blueberries to Daisy so she doesn’t feel left out.
The man is completely unbothered when a little blueberry juice gets into his hair.
“What?” he asks when he sees me staring.
“Daisy made a blueberry mess in your hair,” I say, itching to go over and touch it to help him get it out. I stay where I am, though.
He shrugs.
“Birds are messy. I’ve resigned myself to a life of constantly cleaning and multiple showers a day. I wouldn’t want it to be any different. Messes don’t scare me,” he says with a significant glance in my direction.
We hold each other’s gazes as I slowly nod.
“I wouldn’t want it any different either,” I agree quietly.
His eyes bore right through me as I sit to start eating my pancakes before they get cold.
Gage joins me with his own stack that he hilariously drowns in syrup, and we eat in companionable silence while we let the caffeine kick in.
I like that he doesn’t try to talk too much before we’re fully awake.
As I reach forward to grab my coffee mug, sharp pain radiates through my lower stomach again.
It’s impossible to hold back a wince, which of course gets Gage’s attention.
My apparent pattern of him seeing me vulnerable continues, and it’s unnerving how much I’m starting to not mind it so much.
Keeping my armor up gets exhausting, so the fact that he sees the cracks and doesn’t exploit them gives me some rest.
“What is it?”
The question is soft and concerned in his sleepy voice.
I wave him off dismissively.
“It’s the endometriosis. My favorite time of the month is here, and apparently the hormones and painkillers are only getting me so far. It’s not as bad as it was last month, but it’s not fun.”
He frowns deeply, and it’s disorienting since I’ve only ever seen him smile.
“I put in the paperwork to get you on my insurance right away after we FaceTimed on Friday to fill it out together. It might take a few weeks to go through, but then we’ll get you feeling better. If the meds aren’t working you might need surgery like my cousin.”
I grimace.
“That’s what I’m afraid of, but this can’t go on.”
“What do you need? I have a heating pad if that would help. I kept one here for my cousin when she was going through this, and it also helps my lower back sometimes when I’ve been on my feet all day.”
My instinct is to balk, to get it myself. I really don’t want to move, though, and he’s been asking to let him take care of me. This pain is making me pathetic, it seems.
“That would help, actually. I don’t have one, I borrowed Tania’s and left it at her place,” I concede.
“I’ll go get it,” he says, immediately loping out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“It could have waited until you finished eating, you know!” I call after him with a laugh.
“Not when my dear wife is in pain!” he shouts back down the stairs.
“You’re hilarious, husband!” I shout back.
It feels good to joke about our arrangement, because it makes the whole thing feel less awkward and keeps how unserious we are about it in perspective.
He pounds down the steps within a minute, triumphantly brandishing the heating pad.
Plugging it in by the coffee machine, he turns it on and wraps it in a kitchen towel before handing it to me.
“Thanks,” I murmur. Once it heats up and I put it on my lower stomach, the relief seeps through me like a balm.
“Better?” Gage asks.
“Yeah, thanks again,” I tell him gratefully.
“Look at you, letting me take care of you a little,” he says with a teasing wink.
“If the pain wasn’t incapacitating me, I’d get it myself,” I retort, but I can’t keep my lips from twitching.
He sees it, and his warm eyes spark with amusement.
That look makes me fidget, causing our bare feet to brush under the table, sending heat and awareness right through me.
Damn my body for responding to him, and making me weak.
His eyes have also gone heated when I look at him, but it passes in a blink before he clears his throat.
“What time did you say you need to be at the shelter again? Will you be ok to go?”
“Eleven, so I have a little time to get ready. I’ve done diner shifts in worse pain than this. The heating pad helps a lot, and animals are perfect for pain management,” I say. He nods, but still looks dubious.