Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
claire
I’m pleasantly surprised to awaken in Rowan’s arms the next morning. He’s usually up early, but today he skips the run and lingers in bed, sighing contentedly and pressing a kiss to the back of my neck. And I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as he tightens his hold around me.
“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” I begin. “But I’m afraid I’m going to ruin the mood if I don’t get to the bathroom in the next minute.”
“Fine. Hurry back, though,” he says with a playful tap on the butt as soon as he lets me go.
The second I roll over, I feel it—the dreaded gush announcing the start of my period. I groan and clench all of my core muscles as I waddle to the bathroom.
“Whatever you do, don’t look at the sheets!
” I call out when I get to the toilet and see that I’ve already bled through my clothes.
I wouldn’t have normally gone to bed without any protection so close to P-Day, but last night wasn’t exactly routine.
Thankfully, I keep clean underwear and a fancy robe in my bathroom for such an occasion.
By the time I make it back, Rowan has already stripped the sheets and is carrying the bundle out the door. He’s also managed to retrieve his glasses, though he didn’t bother getting dressed. Not that I’m complaining.
“What are you doing?” I ask, following him.
“Getting these in the wash before the stain sets in,” he replies matter-of-factly.
I cross my arms over my middle. “Are you really taking care of my period sheets?”
The corner of his mouth lifts when he turns to glare at me. “Am I supposed to be afraid of a little menstrual blood?”
“Fair enough, Doc,” I say with an eye roll.
He chuckles quietly as he ventures down the hallway in nothing but his boxers, and I pause to admire the view. Rowan might be right about this whole religion thing after all, because I certainly owe God my gratitude for creating the masterpiece in front of me.
As soon as I acknowledge the thought, an overwhelming sense of comfort and peace washes over me, as if I’ve been enveloped within a warm embrace.
My eyes water unexpectedly when I imagine it being God’s reply to my silly, half-irreverent prayer. Then, an even crazier idea fills my mind, a flower blooming from the notion Daisy planted yesterday, and I find myself considering whether this man could have been made for me.
Is it possible Rowan isn’t simply some random guy I rescued from an allergic reaction, but the person sent specifically to save me?
He might even be a custom build, designed to meet my specifications long before I knew any better, and he’s been aging to perfection until I could finally recognize him for what he is—exactly what I’ve always needed.
And if that were all true, wouldn’t it mean I was also made just for him, flaws and all?
I let out an incredulous laugh and dry my eyes, resolving to keep those thoughts close to my heart for now.
Rowan returns as I’m retrieving a set of clean sheets from the linen closet and wordlessly falls in, helping me make the bed and smiling as he pulls the covers back and gestures for me to slide in first. My own grin widens when he slips in beside me and draws me into his arms again, as if he really meant it before when he said his time with me is never wasted.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his lips finding my shoulder this time.
“Like I’d rather stay in bed all day,” I reply, and he hums.
“Should I reschedule my patients and stick around to take care of you?”
I heave out a sigh. “While that sounds amazing, I’ll just have to settle for a couple of Midol and something chocolatey from the vending machine later.”
He growls and gathers my hair to expose more of my neck. “Are you sure you can’t stay home and rest?”
My eyelashes flutter as he continues kissing his way across my shoulders.
It feels … heavenly. There’s no other word for it.
And it shouldn’t—I remember hating the thought of my ex even breathing in my vicinity at certain points in my cycle.
But I can’t seem to get enough of Rowan’s touch, and it makes me wonder if this is part of what he tried explaining before, about the purpose of physical intimacy within marriage.
“No, and I really should be getting ready by now,” I say after a while.
“Okay,” he intones and backs away. “I’ll try to leave you alone.”
“Go on, get outta here,” I tell him, gesturing for him to get up first.
He narrows his eyes at me before scooting to the edge of the bed, and this time I’m the one who darts over to deliver a playful smack on his butt when he stands.
It’s a mistake, though, because he exacts his revenge by holding me down and tickling me senseless, which leads to me pulling him in for a short make-out session before we’re interrupted by Frankie and Oscar’s barking.
And I can’t fault them, since they haven’t been let out since last night.
Rowan assures me he’ll tend to the dogs while I get myself ready for work, and he hands me a cup of coffee when I walk into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later, after I give my boys the apologetic snuggles they’re owed, of course.
“Since you won’t let me stay home and pamper you, can I at least come back tonight and cook dinner?” he asks, filling me with equal parts panic and excitement. I’m also having a hard time getting over the way he looks in those scrubs he’s started wearing.
“Don’t you have to work in Baton Rouge tomorrow?”
He shrugs. “I’ll get up early.”
“Rowan,” I begin on a sigh. “I don’t know. This doesn’t seem fair.”
“What’s unfair is making me beg you to stay when you know I’m in love with you and I can’t stand being away,” he replies, hooking a finger through one of my belt loops and tugging me closer.
I swallow hard as I try to form a reply, but he pulls me in for a kiss before I can come up with a reasonable objection.
He rests his forehead against mine and sighs. “I’m smothering you, aren’t I? I know it seems immature, but I can’t help myself. Just don’t be afraid to tell me when you need your space.”
I cringe. “You’re not smothering me. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to stay over anymore.”
“Oh,” he breathes, and I can tell he’s trying to hide his disappointment.
“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy having you in my bed,” I reassure him, and another wave of consolation fills me and gives me the courage to continue.
“But I’m still new to this chastity thing.
I want to respect your boundaries, but we can’t keep pushing the limits, either.
And I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before one thing leads to another. ”
And if I have my say, another.
Okay, so the real Claire’s still in there.
Rowan groans. “I know you’re supposed to be warning me off right now, but all this talk of responsibility and chastity is just making me want you all the more. Your green flags are such a turn on.”
“Get out of here, you dork,” I say, trying not to simper at him.
He flashes me another grin before he leans in for one more quick kiss. “You know, there is a simple fix to all this,” he mumbles before he grabs his keys and phone off the counter.
“Oh, is that the easy way out, then?” I repeat incredulously.
“I’d make marriage easy for you, Claire Bear. I promise,” he says with a wink. And even though I roll my eyes and scoff at him, I can’t help thinking it’s the truth.
It’s also a good thing I let him cher-cher me while I could, since my cramps are already flaring up by the time I get to homeroom. I manage to survive the first few hours of the day without bleeding through my clothes again, but I have to risk a copy run during my planning hour.
The machine is vacant when I get there, to my relief, and I greet Loren and the other teacher having lunch at the table before I get started.
“How come I never see you in the teachers’ lounge?” Loren asks, and I turn to realize we’re alone now.
“I’m usually too busy to hang out in here,” I reply with a shrug, only offering her half of the story.
If I were being honest, I’d tell her how I’ve always been afraid of being the odd girl out, so I either avoid situations where I might face rejection, like the gossip table in the teachers’ lounge, or purposefully take myself out of contention with my off-putting humor.
But I’m certainly not going to admit all that to someone who girly girls as well as Loren does, who’s pretty and dainty, yet still witty enough to snag a husband like Blake Bourgeois and tough enough to survive birthing two babies at a time, not to mention her history with Rowan.
How would she understand?
Loren narrows her dark eyes at me. “I always assumed you thought you were too cool for the rest of us.” Then she pops a potato chip into her mouth and lifts a shoulder. “You kinda are, though.”
I snort. “Bitchy doesn’t equate to cool.”
“You’re bitchy? I never noticed. Guess I haven’t spent enough time around you to tell,” Loren continues with a satisfied smirk.
“You have been pretty sparse around here lately,” I say with a smile of my own as I press the button on the copy machine and turn to lean against it.
Her brow lifts in acknowledgment. “Why aren’t we friends again?”
I blow out a breath. “I’m not usually anyone’s first choice for a girl friend.”
“Funny, that’s not what my guy Dr. LaFleur seems to think,” she mumbles before taking a sip of her soda, and the way my posture straightens must be all too telling.
“You still talk to Rowan?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Her smile stretches. “We’re practically family now.”
“Right.” I turn back to the copy machine to hide the flush crawling up my neck.
“He’s pretty great. But I guess you already know that, since you’re such good friends and all.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah.”
Think he’s great now? You should see him in nothing but his boxers and his glasses.
I guess I’m still a work in progress, then.