Chapter 28 #3
Hell, I still loved the man with a desperate intensity.
I remembered how exquisite his lips glided over mine, and how his arms always seemed like my safe place.
Still, I resisted his temptation, slicing my eyes from him with a soft curse.
Whether it was stubbornness or sheer madness, Angel stayed put in my driveway, his rig parked at the edge of the gravel while I remained holed up inside the farmhouse.
He never knocked on my door, nor did he demand to speak to me, or force his presence into my house.
Days passed in a silent standoff.
I forced myself to paint, layering paint on canvas as I listened to my favorite music, even though nausea gripped me around the clock.
The constant, churning sickness made my stomach turn almost every hour.
The misery subsided only a fraction in the late afternoons.
It was thrilling to be pregnant, and eager to become a mother, but I grew exhausted from the relentless assault.
‘Baby, please stop,’ I whispered to my mound as yet another roiling, turbulent urge to lose my last meal hit. ‘Have mercy on your mother.’
I couldn’t leave the house, drive to town, or accomplish a single task because I felt terrible.
Dizzy spells and deep fatigue only added to my suffering.
Four nights after Angel arrived and remained at my doorstep, my resolve crumbled.
Weak, lightheaded, and thirsty, I dialed his number.
He picked up on the very first ring.
‘Roxy,’ he growled. ‘Talk to me.’
‘Come to the front door,’ I managed, my hand trembling against the phone. ‘Now, Angel, please.’
I’d never locked it since he got here.
He appeared in the kitchen in less than two minutes, eyes piercing and on me as I bent over the counter.
I gripped the edge, the room spinning as the dizziness hit.
Still, I was able to appreciate that my husband was fuckin’ hot.
He was magnificent, a striking contrast to my own beaten and hollow-eyed state.
His thick hair fell in loose strands over his temple, and his gaze burned as he raked me with an intense, possessive look.
‘Fuck’ he murmured, attempting to reach for me. ‘You’re white as a sheet, babe.’
I raised a hand to stop him, and he huffed at the rejection, taking a step back.
He crossed his massive arms over his chest, his biceps flexing hard.
‘What do you need?’
His timbre was tight, laced with hurt.
I had no time for emotions, so I ignored his broken expression.
‘My nausea is ripping through me. Go to the closest pharmacy,’ I muttered in a labored whisper. ‘Get dry crackers, ginger tea, motion sickness medicine, and pressure bands for my wrists.’
‘I’m on it,’ Angel rasped. ‘I’ll get going as soon as I have you in bed.’
His hand took my elbow with one hand, the other arm around my waist as he guided me back to my bed,
Placing a cold glass of tap water on the nightstand, he headed out into the night.
He returned an hour later with a grocery sack of supplies, calling out as he strode straight into my bedroom.
‘Rox, beautiful, I’m back.’
I woke from the half-nap I’d sunk into.
‘I’ve got the goods,’ he growled, sitting on the edge of the mattress, the bed dipping under his muscled heft. ‘I’ll start by slipping these bands onto your wrists right now.’
He adjusted the elastic travel straps around my skin, his fingers careful and gentle for a man of his size.
I raked his face up close, my heart pounding with a volatile blend of terror at his power over me and fierce desire.
He left me and returned with hot ginger tea, dry biscuits, and anti-nausea meds.
‘Approved by the pharmacist for baby.’
I took it all as he eyed me from the door.
When I was done, he reached for the tray as I yawned.
‘Want to sleep?’
I nodded.
‘I’m moving my gear to the living room sofa,’ he stated, his jaw ticking. ‘I’m sleeping close by so you can yell if you need anything. I’m not leaving you alone through this.’
Too tired to argue, I surrendered with a sigh and snuggled into bed, and in seconds I was out like a light.
When my eyes opened at dawn, I found Angel in the armchair in my room, asleep.
As he’d done in Capri, he stayed by my side through the night.
He must have sensed me waking because one eye cracked open.
He left and returned with a white ceramic bowl.
Placing it on the adjacent table, he slid two pillows behind me and helped me sit up.
‘Eat this dry cereal first. You need calories before trying to move again.’
I took the spoon from him, my fingers brushing his.
The brief contact made my throat tight with longing.
‘Thank you,’ I muttered, chewing and sighing in relief as the food settled the bile in my gut.
‘I’ll make sure to always have a fresh pitcher of ice water for you,’ he rasped, placing the water infused with sliced strawberries, lemons, and mint in a jug within my reach. ‘Drink it slow.’
He spent the day hovering over me, with more ginger tea, biscuits, and cleaning up the bucket he placed next to me when things got rough.
Later, tired of lying down, I asked him to help me to the living room.
‘Angel, the fatigue is too much for me to walk.’
‘Say no more, mama,’ he drawled.
His muscled arms scooped me out of the sheets.
My heart did a crazy flip as I gripped his neck, my face buried into his chest, breathing his musk and cologne like I loved to.
‘I’ve got you, sweetheart,’ he murmured, his timbre reverberating as he carried me to the lounge room sofa and set me down.
He arranged the patchwork quilts around my legs until I was cozy, then grabbed the remote.
‘I’m putting on Sabrina,’ he said, toggling the screen. ‘Focus on Audrey Hepburn. Keep your mind off the nausea.’
This became our routine over the next few days.
He cooked my meals, fed me dry biscuits and ginger tea when my tummy turned, spoiled me with foot rubs, and let me sleep for hours.
Every evening, he sat close by wherever I was, strumming his guitar and testing new chords, lyrics, and runs.
He played to soothe my nausea and lull me to rest, even tuning my grandmother’s old upright piano to serenade me.
Damn him, he was using his music to break down my walls, and it was working too.
I seemed to calm down more with him around, and while the routine he established wasn’t a complete cure, it slowed the unpredictable vomiting spells.
‘I never realized a natural process could make someone feel this miserable,’ I muttered one evening after he held my hair over a bowl.
He wiped my mouth without flinching at the mess, unfazed by the gross intimacy of it all.
‘An old wives’ tale says severe queasiness means a girl, while a lighter sickness means a boy,’ he offered with a wink.
I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘It’s such a fable.’
‘Is it though?’ he grinned.
It was clear Angel was thrilled about the baby, reading books every night and sharing his discoveries.
He never left my side as he promised, and though we ignored the chasm between us, his presence made me feel so much safer.
As he cooked, cleaned, and cared for me without complaint, I began to shift my view of him and soften my anger.
However, forgiveness remained light-years away.
A week and a half later, the farmhouse’s well pump cracked and burst, stopping our water supply.
I prepared myself for an expensive nightmare.
Instead, Angel made a single, brief call.
A professional plumbing crew arrived at dawn, bringing industrial-grade fixtures to replace the entire damaged system.
By noon, they departed, sending me an online receipt marked ‘Paid in Full’.
By now I was much better and out and about on my feet.
So I marched out onto the gravel porch, holding my phone with the email in my hand as Angel stood by his truck, back from a grocery trip.
‘You shouldn’t have paid for this, Angel. I’m not a charity case.’
Angel crossed his massive arms over his chest, a stubborn line forming on his jaw.
‘The bill is settled, Rox. It’s already sorted.’
‘I don’t want your money to fix things around here,’ I snapped, my temper flaring against his immovable posture.
‘You’re carrying my child,’ he countered, his timbre edged with lethal finality. ‘You and my baby need water. End of story.’
We faced off until he arched a brow.
‘Give up yet, Rox? Or shall I have to kiss you into compliance?’
His soft, sensual rasp set me off.
Why was he so bossy and sexy at the same time?
‘Hell no,’ I muttered, rolling my eyes and walking back indoors.