32. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
Leon Aldon
I don’t understand what went wrong here.
We were talking, joking, and laughing. I was learning so much about her that I couldn’t learn from a distance. Like how her nose scrunches up when she laughs, how she wiggles in her seat when she takes the first bite and realizes it tastes good, or the way she mouths the words she says like one of those anime shows that are translated to another language.
It’s cute.
She's so much more appealing and stunning from this close.
And she's hilarious and sarcastic, but she won't cuss. Not even the small words that they allow people on TV to say, but, of course, I screwed that up by bringing up her finals.
Fuck.
Her mood shifted so easily, and her smile faded until it was completely gone. The light in her eyes dimmed. She even gave up on her dinner. I wasn't trying to upset her. Maybe I should have waited to tell her about her finals, but I thought I was doing the right thing by giving her time to study.
I cleaned up dinner and packed away the leftovers. She seemed to enjoy the meal. Hopefully, she will eat it again tomorrow while I'm at work.
I've been leaving leftovers in the fridge for her, but she has free reign of the house to make whatever she wants.
I hope I come home someday to see that she'd made us both dinner. We could eat it together, talk about my day and hers, and she could tell me how the garden is looking and what new things she has planted.
When dinner is over, she could sit between my legs on the couch while she works on her schoolwork and I work on my patient notes. Maybe we would have a few colder nights when we could light the fireplace and let that be the only light source in the house. It sounds nice. It sounds perfect, but I don't know if it will happen now.
I take my time cleaning up and take a seat on the couch. Normally, I'd sit in bed and work on notes while Maeve slept, admiring her while I worked. It calms me down after a long day to work on my notes with a hand on her back. I get to breathe in her sweet blueberry scent while also feeling her warmth; it makes my day instantly better to be near her.
I don't exactly think Maeve wants to see me right now, and I don't blame her. I was an asshole, but at least this gives me the chance to rest my leg.
I take my prosthesis off, sit it on the floor beside the couch, and kick my sore leg up onto the chase.
It's swollen and bruised and even the bone hurts. I need a break, one longer than the few clients who allow me to sit at my desk for their appointments.
I'm hoping that soon, Maeve will feel comfortable enough here that I won't have to worry about her running, so I can take my leg off more often. Right now, she hasn't even realized I'm an amputee. I wonder what she'll say about it. Will she judge me?
It makes me wonder what she'll say when I tell her everything my mother did to me—all the experiments. I'm scared she'll want to run screaming when she sees the monster my mother created.
I work on my notes for so long that I feel myself slowly fall asleep, but I fight it off as best as I can. I only realize that I have failed when I wake up to the sound of throwing up.
I jump up and realize that it’s dark out. How long have I been asleep?
Fuck, there goes the vomiting again.
I rush to get my leg on and rush into the bedroom to check on Maeve. It’s still pretty early, I only just cut the bar out two days ago, but it’s possible that she’s pregnant. It just seems unlikely that she’s already feeling sick.
However, the bar isn’t a guarantee, so maybe our first encounter was successful.
If that’s the case, she’s just under two weeks. It’s just far enough along to start feeling sick, especially with how little she’s eaten lately.
I’m going to be there for her just as I promised, she’s never going to trust me if I’m not by her side through this.
When I try to let myself in, the bathroom door is locked. That's great; she doesn’t trust me to take care of her.
“Can you open the door for me, ma fleur?” I ask as I knock a few times.
There’s silence for a minute before I hear the toilet flush. “Please leave me alone.” She replies quietly.
I lean against the doorframe, trying to be patient. I’ll wait as long as I have to. “Let me help you.” I beg.
I hear her sniffle from the other side right before I hear more vomiting. I hate hearing her in pain, I need her to let me in and let me help her.
I feel stuck.
She’s not going to trust me to take care of her if I stay on this side of the door, but she’s also not going to trust me if I bust through the door after she’s clearly stated that she doesn’t want me around.
Honestly I'd rather have her mad that I stormed in than to feel abandoned.
I can't imagine how scared and uncomfortable she is right now to be sick and have no idea why.
Fuck it.
I promised her that I was by her side and I'm not letting her down. I grab the key to the bathroom and unlock it, and the smell hits me immediately. I've read that diarrhea can be a symptom of pregnancy, but it's not a common one. I guess it's possible since she hasn't been eating that dinner has upset her stomach further.
My poor girl is sitting on the toilet with her face buried in a trashcan.
She's pale and covered in sweat, and while I can't see her face, I know she's probably crying, too.
I keep going towards her, even when she sticks a hand out to stop me. I want her to know that her bodily functions don't bother me.
Nothing about her bothers me.
I rub her back while she throws up into the trash can. "There you go, get it all out. I'll get you some water when you're done." I say calmly while my hand rubs circles on her back.
Maeve coughs a few times before spitting into the trash can. "You said I could trust you." She says, glaring up at me with a few tears running down her tan face.
I give her a reassuring smile, my hand still rubbing her back. "You can, ma fleur. I'm going to be there for you every step of the way. I'll set you up with an OB appointment in the morning." I promise her.
Her glare somehow deepens; I didn't realize that was possible. "I'm not pregnant, you butthead. You glutened me!" She yells at me before the other end of her bodily functions takes over, and she covers her face with her hands in embarrassment.
"I glutened you? What does that even mean?" I ask her.
Maeve sighs and reaches back to flush the toilet again before leaning against the back of the toilet and wiping the sweat off her forehead. I quickly take over, wetting a washcloth and wiping her sweaty skin for her.
Fuck, her skin is ice cold.
"You said you knew. You said I could trust you. You gave me gluten." She says sadly.
I don't know why it hurts that she's disappointed in me, but it does.
I squat down in front of her, ignoring the pain in my leg when I do so. "I didn't give you any gluten. It was just vegetables, seasoning, chickpeas, and olive oil." I explain. My hands rub along her thighs, staring up at her worriedly.
I hope she doesn't have hyperemesis, but I'll take care of her if she does.
"A lot of seasonings and some oils have trace amounts of gluten." She explains to me.
I don't see how that would make her sick. It's not a big deal to have a little gluten. Unless it's been that long since she's had any? I don't know if that's a thing. "Okay, but not enough to make you sick. I can grab you a test on my way home from work tomorrow, okay?" I tell her.
Maeve rolls her eyes at me and scrubs a hand down her sweaty and pale face. "It's enough for me! My celiac is very sensitive, and my tolerance is very low for gluten." She says with a rough sigh.
She rubs her hand over her stomach, and I'm just now noticing how bloated she is.
Celiac?
"Do you have celiac disease?" I ask her calmly.
The glare she gives me tells me that I fucked up. I thought her avoidance of gluten was a dietary choice, not a necessity.
Fuck!
If I had known that, I would have scrubbed the entire house clean. I would have made sure everything was certified; I would have been more careful. "I screwed up, I'm so sorry. Please tell me how to fix this. What can I do to help you?" I beg of her.
I can't believe I didn't piece together how obsessive she was about her diet.
I followed her for six months and didn't pick up on this.
Maeve finally makes eye contact with me and the look on her face breaks my heart. "Please leave me alone…" She begs.
I don't want to, but I don't want to upset her more than I already have. “Let me help you.” I beg.
My promise to take care of her goes much deeper than just pregnancy. It's everything.
I'll do anything for her. Anything she could ask or need, I'd do it.
All this goddess would need to do is stare up at me, one look in those angelic brown eyes and I'd fold like lawn furniture for her.
Maeve sighs, holding her face in her hands. I know she's struggling; she looks so uncomfortable sitting here, but I won't move her until she's ready. I don't care how long I have to stay at her side.
“No.” She whispers.
I don't want to leave her. I don't want her to think that she's alone to suffer, but I don't want to hurt her, and right now, I've hurt her.
I'll give in to this request, praying she calls out for me in a little while.
I wince when I stand up and give her a kiss on the forehead. “Please call out for me if you need anything. I'm here.” I promise before heading back into the bedroom.
I know I'm going to sleep like shit, but I have to try. I have to be rested so I can help Maeve tomorrow if she needs me.