Chapter 14 #2
The next afternoon, the shop is quiet, so I sneak in a quick nap after packing up the last of the online orders. I’m starting to think those European countries with built-in midday siestas are onto something.
For the first time in weeks, I actually feel good enough to rearrange the store layout tonight.
I’ve been putting it off because I haven’t had the motivation.
This baby is determined to siphon every last ounce of energy, leaving me running on fumes.
It must be a family trait—Heath’s been doing his part to contribute to my sleep deprivation too.
I’ve just started clearing off the bookshelf near the register when a wave of nausea hits me. I drop the stack of magazines I’m holding and clamp a hand over my mouth, bolting into the small bathroom off the storage room.
I barely make it to my knees in front of the toilet before I toss up the grilled cheese on wheat bread and tomato bisque soup I had for lunch.
Of course, the one day I choose a semi-healthy lunch, my body punishes me for it.
It’d be nice if this were a simple stomach bug that would pass in a few days, but I know better.
“So much for not getting morning sickness,” I mutter, wiping my mouth with toilet paper.
Who had the brilliant idea to call it that anyway? It clearly doesn’t respect any kind of time constraints.
I groan as another wave of nausea has me doubling over the toilet again.
I’m in the middle of spilling my guts when the soft ding of the shop’s bell rings.
God, this cannot be happening. Some poor unsuspecting customer is going to think there’s an exorcism going on in here if they hear me.
Hopefully, they’ll assume I stepped out for an errand and forgot to lock up. One of the perks of living in a small town is that theft is practically nonexistent. Well, except for the Minion pumpkin I painted last Halloween—some punk swiped it from the sidewalk, and I’m still salty about it.
I freeze at the sound of heavy footsteps heading my way.
“Hellcat, you in here?” Heath hollers.
“Go away,” I call out weakly.
Before he can answer, my stomach rebels again. I cling to the toilet bowl as the bathroom door opens, and suddenly, big hands are pulling my hair back and holding it out of the way.
I glance at Heath crouched beside me, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. He’s still in his work clothes—a white T-shirt streaked with dirt, his worn-in Wranglers, and his dusty cowboy boots. How dare he look this good while I resemble someone succumbing to the plague.
“Go away,” I mumble, feebly waving him off. “Your demon spawn is busy staging a coup.”
“Oh, so I still only get the blame for whenever the peanut misbehaves, huh?” he remarks with an amused chuckle.
I blink in surprise, warmth blooming in my chest when I realize he called the baby the same nickname I’ve been using. It’s a small gesture, but the fact he’s been paying attention to the little details makes him even more irresistible than he already is.
When I’m sure the worst of the nausea has passed, I push myself upright. My eyes land on a suspicious white spot in my hair, and I nearly burst into tears.
“Please go away, Heath. You can’t see me like this.”
I’m stunned when he immediately listens and gets to his feet. I’m almost disappointed he didn’t argue, already mentally preparing to handle this mess alone. But then I hear the faucet turn on briefly. A moment later, he returns, gently dabbing my hair with a damp towel.
“You must not have been paying attention to our wedding vows,” he chides.
“I’m pretty sure I caught the important parts, like till death do us part.” I let out a short huff of laughter. “Figured there was a good chance that part would be short-lived, given our track record.”
He folds the towel into quarters and runs the cool fabric across my forehead. “What about the part where we promised to take care of each other in sickness and in health?”
I let out a weak laugh. “Our marriage was built on convenience, not heartfelt vows. I figured you’d treat that part as optional—especially when projectile vomit is involved.”
“I’m not interested in your highlight reel, sweetheart.
” He crouches beside me and lifts my chin.
“I want all the chaotic, flawed, beautifully broken parts of you—the ones you only show me because you trust me enough to see the real you. And if you give me the chance, I’ll prove that what we have is worth fighting for. ”
The queasiness is quickly replaced by traitorous butterflies stirring low in my belly. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my expression neutral.
His declaration is the ultimate green flag, but that’s exactly what makes it sound too good to be true.
No guy wants the real, messy, hormonal, and emotionally unstable version of me long-term.
Right now, Heath is riding the high of becoming a dad, but once that excitement fades and the reality of parenthood sets in, there’s no guarantee he’ll want to stick this marriage out.
Heath strokes my cheek with his calloused thumb. “C’mon, let’s get you upstairs. We’ll get you cleaned up so you can lie down for a bit.”
I look down at my damp hair that still carries a faint acrid odor. “A shower sounds nice.”
Heath nods as he effortlessly lifts me into his arms and stands. I wrap my arms around his neck as he strides out of the bathroom. This close, I spot a streak of dirt across his forehead and more grime caked across his T-shirt than I’d noticed earlier.
“Uh, Heath,” I say softly.
“Yeah?” he asks as he climbs the stairs.
“I think you need a shower too.”
“You’re right,” he agrees, glancing down at his stained shirt. “Been digging holes all afternoon and came straight here once I finished. Don’t worry, I’ll wash up once you’re settled.”
I tug my lower lip between my teeth. “Or we could shower together. You know, to save water, of course.”
It’s the lamest excuse I could have come up with. After last night, I should probably keep my distance since I’m not ready to admit there’s more between us. But I’m not about to pass up a chance to see him naked, even if it’s strictly for conservation purposes.
Heath gazes at me, smirking. “Good thinking. You could get queasy again, so I should stay close in case you need me.”
I let out a soft laugh. “My hero.”