Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Presley
“I told you I was fine.” I walk out of the front doors of the hospital and turn in the direction of Zac’s truck. “I would have been fine.”
“With a little rest,” he adds, following behind me. “Which is exactly what I tried to get you to do before you brushed it off and pushed yourself a little more.” I roll my eyes knowing he can’t see due to being behind me.
“Rolling your eyes at me doesn’t change the fact that I’m right.”
“I didn’t roll my eyes,” I deny.
“Sure you didn’t.” He steps up behind me and offers me a little help up into his truck. I don’t fight him on it, because it’s getting harder and harder the farther I get to do it alone. Lifted trucks are not pregnant girl friendly. “I know you more than you think I do. You roll your eyes every time I say something that irritates you. Which with us that’s about ninety percent of the time, sometimes I don’t even have to speak at all.”
“Stop being annoying,” I say, repositioning myself in the seat to get comfortable.
“Stop being a pain in the ass,” he counters back. “You heard the doctor,” he says, then closes the door. I watch him walk around the front, then climb up into the driver’s side. “It’s time to start thinking of slowing down.”
Again I roll my eyes this time not trying to hide it.
“If I slow down anymore I might as well be moving in reverse. I’m pregnant,” I say. “I worked full time up to the day I had Grayson. This time around is no different.”
“Presley.”
“Zac,” I say right back in the same tone. And what does he do? He rolls his eyes and I can’t help but laugh. Not a little giggle either but a full on belly laugh with tears.
It really wasn’t that funny, but truth be told, I’m exhausted. Right now I think anything would be hilarious.
“Babe.” Zac turns in his seat facing me. “This is serious, I’m not saying you should lay around in bed all day every day. I’m just asking that you slow down a bit.”
“I’ve cut back my hours at the cafe. What am I supposed to do Zac, quit?”
“There’s an idea,” he mumbles and I know my eyes have to practically bug out of my head. I feel like they do anyway.
I want to react, I want to yell at him and tell him that I don’t need a keeper. But there is something in his eyes, a real look of concern. Reaching out, I place my hand over his. “I’ve never had someone that actually cared.” It’s strange. “I’ll tell you not to worry but I’m starting to see that won’t make a difference so I’ll say this. I’ll be more careful, I’ll take more breaks and I’ll stop pushing because I know I don’t have to.”
He arches his brow.
“I promise,” I say with a smile. “I’m also sorry that I made you worry.”
He pouts, turning in the truck seat and starting the engine. I try not to laugh, but at this moment he reminds me of Grayson when you tell him he can’t have a cookie or ice cream until after he eats dinner.
“If you keep scowling, your face is going to stick like that.” He doesn’t even crack a smile. “Do you need a nap?”
“Do I need to tie you to the fucking bed?”
“That sounds promising,” I reply smiling. He slips, the corner of his lips tipping upward. But he quickly recovers. “Will you use silk ties instead of rope though, it would be really hard to explain red marks on my wrists while serving customers their lunch.”
“Well smartass, maybe rope is the best option then. No need to explain anything if you aren’t serving other people and instead taking care of yourself.”
“I’m not going to argue with you.” He is being ridiculous. “You were worried, fair enough. But I’m still going to work, I’m still going to do laundry and mop floors. I refuse to walk around like I’m fragile, Zac. I have never been that way, and I won’t start now.”
“I’m not saying be a fragile bunny, all I’m saying is it’s all different now. You have someone that wants to take care of you. Me, I’m that someone. I don’t want you to change who you are, but for once, I want you to fucking slow down and let go of the worry. Relax, take a long lounge on the couch all day and watch cartoons, hell read a book. Something, anything, just stop pushing yourself and pamper yourself instead.”
He isn’t going to let it go. I get what he is saying. “I’ll try to be better about it.” Reaching out I place my hand over his. Offering him a squeeze, he flips his hand over and links his fingers through mine. Lifting our joined hands to his lips, he presses a kiss to my wrist.
“With me you don’t have to worry about tomorrow, let me do that.”
I could fight him on this, I could make his life hell, butting heads daily and bickering at every turn. Or I could accept that he loves me, and because of that, he wants to take care of me. I can bend a little; it may not be easy but I can give him that.