51. Chapter 51
A ria
The nausea was never far away. Aria would have a couple of good days and hope it was gone for good. Why was it called morning sickness when it could appear at any time of the day? The unpleasant metallic taste in her mouth persisted.
Crispin had taken to bringing her breakfast in bed. The whole village seemed to watch this unconventional courtship like it was a soap opera.
"The most entertainment we have had in months, yeah!" Aria had overheard one elderly pensioner discuss the latest events with Dana Ridges, the inn owner. In the afternoon, the tearoom was always packed with all eyes on the exotic pregnant housekeeper and the handsome young man following her around.
On that particular day, Aria had woken feeling like she'd swallowed seawater.
Outside, September had rolled in with grey defiance.
The short summer had yielded with a last reluctant sigh to its flighty cousin, autumn, and the coast had begun to shift.
Greens faded to tarnished gold, the crisp bite of sea wind sneaking under doors, rattling windows that had stood open just weeks before.
The mornings were darker now. Mornings like this-cloud-laden, grim and miserable. The kind of grey that pressed down on the world and made everything feel more difficult than it already was. Making menial tasks, like getting out of bed, impossible .
The sea, once glinting with silver sun, now churned pewter and restless. Mist hung low over the hills behind the inn, and the path down to the beach was littered with damp leaves and soft decay.
Aria's mood matched the sky.
The nausea, never truly gone, was back with a vengeance. Her body, already stretched and sore, now felt like it had turned against her entirely.
Crispin had started bringing her breakfast after catching her one morning in a particularly low moment, when her legs were too shaky to make it down the stairs and her eyes too red to pretend that she was fine.
He hadn't said much that first time, just set the tray on her bedside table and left quietly.
But then he'd done it again. And again. Always quietly, always early, always pretending it was no big deal.
It was irritating how thoughtful he could be when she was being a raging bitch to him.
The breakfast Crispin had pilfered from the chef first thing this morning, and carefully arranged on a tray-toast, fruit, and the exact peppermint tea she liked-made it as far as her nose before she clamped a hand over her mouth and bolted for the bathroom.
She returned, pushed the tray away with a trembling hand, the toast suddenly unbearable, the tea somehow too sweet.
"Just give me a minute," she snapped, voice frayed .
Crispin hovered by the door, silent. But she noticed the tightness of his mouth and how he clenched and unclenched his hands.
When she emerged, pale and dragging her cardigan over her uniform, he finally said, "You should rest."
There was an undertone in his voice that she couldn't quite identify.
"I have work."
"You're not well, Aria."
"I'll manage."
"Aria-"
"I said, I'll manage."
Crispin frowned, stepping closer, his voice still low but firm.
He was not backing down this time. "You're nearly twenty-seven weeks pregnant.
You've been sick all morning, your blood pressure was borderline last week, and you're working double shifts, all while on your feet. Should you even be working like this?"
The turned on him before he could finish, her eyes flashing with fury. "Should I be working? What else do you expect me to do, Crispin? Lounge around and live off your money?"
"That's not what I meant-"
"No? Because that's what it sounds like." Her voice rose, sharp and brittle. "I need this job. I need to know I can stand on my own two feet. What if you change your mind again? What if you decide I'm not worth it after all?"
His face twisted. "That's not fair. "
"Isn't it? You left me behind once. You decided I wasn't good enough for the world to see. I am poor, and you let that dictate how you treated me. And now you're here, playing house like none of that happened."
She marched to the door and slammed it behind her.
He followed slower; she might take the stairs in a run if she thought he was chasing her.
She ignored him through the breakfast rush. His eyes followed her as she disappeared into the back of the inn after telling Dana she needed to pee.
She was gone longer than usual.
When she returned, her face had gone white as a sheet. Watching her slow progress towards him when before, she couldn't bear to look at him, Crispin immediately knew something was wrong.
"I'm bleeding," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Everything after that blurred.
Crispin was already at her side, supporting her down the hallway, calling for help.
The car ride to the nearest A&E was a fog of panic and taut silence.
The ambulance was likely to take too long.
When the receptionist asked them to wait, he looked like he was ready to rip the fire alarm off the wall and bludgeon someone to death.
"She's bleeding," he said, voice tightly controlled. "She's twenty-seven weeks pregnant. If she doesn't get seen in the next five minutes, I swear I'll hire a bloody helicopter to take her to where she can be seen. "
"Crispin," Aria murmured, gripping his hand. "It's okay. Just...wait with me."
He sat, but only physically. His knee bounced. His hand kept brushing the side of her face, her shoulder, her back, like he needed constant confirmation that she was alright.
By some miracle, the doctor was down in no time. When they were finally called in for a scan, the world slowed.
The sonographer, someone different this time, younger and no-nonsense, examined the screen carefully.
"The baby's fine," she said. "Heartbeat is strong."
Crispin let out a breath like he'd been holding it for hours.
"Everything seems fine. The placenta has attached normally.
I can see there was a question regarding placenta previa in the last scan, but it doesn't seem to be a problem.
And the bleeding has stopped. Properly rest. No lifting, no overworking.
You need to take care of yourself, understand? " said the mild-mannered doctor.
Aria nodded, though tears were leaking from her eyes.
Crispin said nothing. He sat beside her with his hands clasped, mouth tight, shoulders stiff .
When they left, she wiped at her eyes. "I just wanted to do one thing right," she whispered.
He exhaled slowly. "You need to take care of yourself," he said, his voice low and rough. "And the baby."
She turned away, ashamed. "I'm sorry."
"Aria."
She stopped.
"Let me take care of you," he begged. "Please. Just this once...let someone else carry the weight. Let me in, even just a little."
For a long moment, all she did was look down at her belly, looking like a chastened child.
Then she nodded.