Sutton
Chapter twenty-four
The end of February passes in a blur, as is typical for this part of the season. Bash is gone more than he’s home, and I miss him more than I want to admit.
The condo is quiet and empty without him here, and I hate it.
I’ve lived alone my entire adult life so I should be used to it.
I am used to it. Or I used to be. Until I moved in with Bash, and now I miss his presence.
What’s wild is we’ve only been living together for a month.
I can’t imagine how I’m going to feel once we’ve lived together for longer and then it’s over. Nope, not going there right now.
I glance around the living room, smiling when I spot Bert and Ernie lounging in their cat tree.
I force myself to focus on the Storm’s game playing on the TV and not on how attached I’m getting to Bash.
How attached I’m getting to having someone in my corner.
Yes, I have the ladies and their husbands, but it’s not the same as having your person.
“Except he’s not your person. It’s just a fake marriage and sex, that’s all.” Tears well in my eyes. “Stupid hormones.”
I thought I was past the crying phase. Although I’m not sure whether I prefer the tears at the drop of a hat or the being so horny all the time. I tug my blanket up around me, watching the game.
The team is in New York tonight, wrapping up the last of the four games they’ve played over the six-day road trip they’re currently away on.
They’re flying home tonight and won’t get in until late, but at least they’ll be here for a week before heading out on another trip.
The game finally ends, after having gone into overtime, with a win for the Storm.
I shut off the TV and go into the kitchen to refill my water glass and turn the light on over the stove. Maybe it’s silly of me to leave a light on for Bash—he’s come home plenty of times to a pitch-black apartment—but that doesn’t mean he has to keep doing it.
Once I make sure the front door is locked and the cats are happy, I make my way down the hall to his bedroom.
Our bedroom? I don’t really know, and I refuse to think about it.
His bed is more comfortable, and he doesn’t seem to mind.
The night we had sex, he asked me to stay with him, and since then, I haven’t slept in my own bed.
I go about my nighttime routine, and a few minutes later am crawling under the covers. My phone dings, and I grab it from the nightstand.
Bash: We’re heading to the bus soon. I’ll try to be quiet when I get home. You better be on your side of the bed.
I take a selfie with his pillow just at the edge of the frame.
Bash: Can’t wait to see you.
Me: Me too. Lunch tomorrow? I have a free afternoon.
Bash: Sounds good. Text me when you know what time you want to go.
I send him a thumbs up emoji and then put the phone down on the nightstand, turn the light off, and pull the covers up to my chin, and within a few minutes, I’m drifting off to sleep.
At some point in the middle of the night, I feel him climb into bed with me. He kisses me on the forehead and whispers something, but I’m too sleepy to register what he says.
When I wake the next morning to my alarm going off, we’re lying on our own pillows, but he’s holding my hand, which feels more tender, more intimate, than if we were cuddling.
I stare at the spot where our fingers are intertwined, not wanting to break the connection to him, but I have to shut my alarm off lest it wake him up.
“Don’t go,” he says, reaching for me as I pull away from him.
I turn back to him, leaning over and brushing my lips against his cheek. “I have to go to work. Go back to sleep.”
He cracks one eye open. “Take a sick day?”
“Can’t. I need to save all my vacation and sick time for when the baby gets here.”
The team gives employees four months of fully paid maternity leave and then lets us take up to another six months unpaid, or if we have vacation days accrued, we can use them.
My plan is to be off for six months, and I want to have as little of it as unpaid as possible, which means not using my paid time off unless I absolutely have to.
Well, that was my plan. Now that I’m getting this inheritance, or I hope I am, I guess it doesn’t matter if I have to take unpaid leave.
So I could theoretically take the day off.
Except I have a few meetings this morning I can’t really skip. So work it is.
He blows out a breath, accepting my response. “We’re still on for lunch?”
My heart flutters. I don’t know why, but it does. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
I stare at him for a few seconds. All I want to do is climb back into bed with him, but I need to get ready.
So I force myself to walk out of the room and into the guest bathroom where all my stuff still is.
I thought about moving it into his bathroom, but then I’d have to worry about making too much noise and possibly waking him up. Having separate bathrooms is practical.
After using the bathroom and going through my skincare routine, I head into the guest room to find something to wear, which is becoming more and more difficult as a lot of my clothes are getting tight, making it harder to hide my baby bump.
I rummage through my dresser for a bra and grab one of the two new ones I bought a few days ago because my boobs basically grew overnight, and my old bras were not cutting it.
Those and comfortable underwear were at the top of my list of things to buy, and they’re the only maternity clothes I’ve got so far.
I grab a pair of slacks out of my closet and attempt to put them on, but I can’t get them to close around my belly. Great. They fit last week. I take them off, dropping them on the floor, and grab a second pair in a bigger size.
These fit a bit better but won’t button. I blink back tears. They were big last week. I leave both pairs in a pile on the ground and put on my favorite stretchy skirt. Thankfully, it at least still fits and is comfortable.
“Now for a shirt.”
It takes me three tries before I finally find a top that fits and isn’t too tight for work.
I really do need to go shopping. I guess at least I made it sixteen weeks before needing to buy maternity clothes.
Don’t know how I thought I’d make it the whole pregnancy.
I tip my head back, groaning. I don’t want to.
Something about shopping for maternity clothes feels daunting.
But I clearly can’t go the rest of this pregnancy with my existing wardrobe.
Maybe one of the local thrift stores is an option.
I love thrifting, because you never know what you’re going to find.
It’s like a treasure hunt. Sometimes you get lucky and find awesome stuff and sometimes you come away empty handed. I also like giving items a second life.
With a sigh, I head into the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker and find something to eat, grinning when I spot a sticky note on the counter.
Love,
Hope you have a wonderful day. See you at lunch.
XO
Bash
My heart flutters again. Am I falling for my fake husband? He makes it easy to. I tuck the note into my purse for safekeeping. Fifteen minutes later, after finishing my one cup of regular coffee I drink a day and a bowl of yogurt and fruit, I grab my stuff and head out the door.
It’s around eleven when I finally have a break between meetings and can text Bash.
Me: Lunch at twelve-thirty?
He responds almost instantly, like he was just waiting for my message, and knowing him, he probably was.
Bash: Sure. I’ll pick you up at your office? I have to run by the PT office.
My heart rate picks up. Is he hurt? I think back to the game last night. He seemed fine. Played his usual amount of time. Not that that means he’s OK, but … Before I can spiral further, another text comes through.
Bash: I’m fine. Just a little bit of tightness in my leg. I want to have Becca check it. Nothing serious. Stop worrying.
I exhale, relieved he’s okay.
Me: See you soon.
I tuck my phone away and force myself to focus on my work.
A knock on my doorframe a little while later has me pausing what I’m working on and smiling when I see Bash leaning against it.
“Hey,” he greets me, straightening and walking into my office.
“Hi.” I take him in—he’s dressed casually today in a pair of black shorts, a navy-blue shirt, and black tennis shoes.
“Ready for lunch?” he asks, dropping into the chair across from me.
“Give me two minutes to finish this,” I tell him, turning back to my monitor and skimming the email I’d all but finished to the social media team about an upcoming event. How this fell into my lap to deal with, I don’t know, but here we are. Finally, I hit Send. “All set.”
He rises to his feet as I lock my laptop, grab my purse and phone, and round the desk to where he’s standing. He reaches for me, and I step into his embrace.
“I missed you.”
I relax into him, kissing him. He runs his tongue along the seam of my mouth, and I open for him.
A throat clearing has us jumping apart, and my face heats up with being caught. Becca and Hadley stand in the doorway, both wearing shit-eating grins.
“We came to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but it appears you already have plans,” Hadley says.
“Hi, ladies. She does,” Bash says, wrapping his arm around me.
Becca’s smile widens as she clocks the move. I know I’ll be getting all the questions from them later.
“Well, we’ll leave you to it,” Becca says, stepping back. “Want me to close the door?”
“No, we were just leaving,” I tell her.
“Okay.” She winks.
I shake my head at her, although she’s already turned to leave. Bash’s body shakes with suppressed laughter, and I glare up at him.
“Sorry. Come on, let’s go eat.” He takes my hand and leads me out of my office.