“My fucking pleasure, sweetheart.”
Chapter Ten
Bruno
Six weeks later
Iknew living with a woman was going to be a huge adjustment to my daily routine, but never in my wildest dreams did I believe it would be this bad.
Rosario is a walking advertisement for every drug on the market. She’s hot, then cold. Happy, mad, sad, and weepy all at the same damn time. Then the next minute, hornier than a teenage boy.
Those moments I’ve been enjoy a little to much.
Her taste in food has varied so much that I have no idea what to cook for her, but today it hit me. I woke to the sound of her wretching in the bathroom, and it was like a damn lightbulb went off in my head.
She’s pregnant.
I sit in bed for a moment doing the math in my head and wondering if it’s too early for a pregnancy test to even pick it up, but it would put her mind at ease. I held her all night while she cried and asking me what was wrong with her.
Getting out of bed, I walk into the bathroom to find her hugging the toilet with a light sheen of sweat. Her color is off and I try to hide my suspicion and giddiness with concern.
“Hey sweetheart. Not feeling well?” I turn the sink faucet on and wet a washcloth with cool water, then turn to place it on the back of her neck.
She sighs in relief, and I kiss her forehead.
“Must have been dinner. The venison tasted off to me.” I hum and nod as I rub her shoulders.
“I’m going to run to town and graaab sime things. Maybe some gingerale and nausea meds will help. Need anything?” He shakes her head slightly, then bleaches, turning green.
Another violent wave hits her, and I grab her hair as I rub her back.
“Ugh, get out. You don’t need to see this. It’s foul.” I chuckle at her weak attempts to push me away.
“Sickness and in health, sweetheart. I’ll be back soon. Try to rest once it passes.” I turn away to get dressed and hate the feeling of leaving her alone like this, but what choice do I have?
I take a few moments to make a list so I don’t need to leave again soon, and relax slightly when Rosario returns to bed. I listen to her slight snores from the doorway before grabbing my keys and forcing myself to leave.
The trek down the mountain is rather peaceful now that the snow is melting. I slow down when I drive past where the vehicle that crashed should be, but isn’t.
Interesting.
My best guess is that whoever broke into the house to set up our wedding night surprise took care of cleaning up the accident scene. Less for me to worry about, I guess. I’m distracted as I make it into town and frown when I realize the square is set up for some type of festival.
“Fuck,” parking is a nightmare, and what should have taken an hour at most turns into three hours of avoiding tourists and questions from locals.
The chemist was the absolute worst, with people congratulating me just because I bought the fucking test. So much for being discreet. I slam the truck door closed and close my eyes, releasing the moment of muted silence from the music I’ve been enduring while shopping.
I’ve managed to grab enough groceries for a month, some medicine to help ease some pregnancy symptoms, and got the name of the town midwife who does house calls if the test is positive.
Happy with that progress, I start on my way home and then sheirck to a stop when a fucking parade blocks my only path home.
“Great,” I throw the truck in park and tap the steering wheel in frustration as the floats and performers pass me by. It’s not until Santa on a sleigh being pulled by really fucking reindeer passes by that I really feel like a jackass.
Christmas?
I pull my phone out and check the calendar. Sure as shit the date flashes reminding me of how out of touch we’ve been up on that mountain alone in our small little bubble.
A small smile spreads across my face as I wonder if I’ll get the news that I’ll be a father on Christmas Eve. I remember her saying she didn’t want to be the next Virgin Mary, and I chuckle.
