Well, my period is due today, so I guess I’ll find out soon enough. I feel emotional and irritable, as well as tired, and my breasts are tender, which suggests it’s on its way.
Aren’t those also the signs of being pregnant, though?
I Google it. Yes, early symptoms of pregnancy are a missed period, fatigue, tender or swollen breasts, increased urination, mood swings, food cravings or aversions, and nausea or vomiting. Crap. Oh well, I guess the only thing I can do is wait.
I make the coffee, butter the toast, and take it out onto the deck. I sit there and sip the coffee and crunch the toast, ignoring the way my stomach rumbles uneasily. It’s psychosomatic, anxiety brought on by reading too much into a few stupid symptoms.
I totally do not have morning sickness.
Chapter Twenty
Archer
I’m flat out over the next few days. I don’t mind at all—I’m happiest when I’m busy, and I’m enjoying the combination of seeing clients in the morning and working at PAWS in the afternoon. It’ll be even better once the clients are coming to my own therapy center. I’ve told the guy who runs the Sunrise Bay Community Wellbeing Center that I won’t require the therapy room I rent there from the end of March, and that felt like a huge step toward the beginning of my new venture.
While Isaac and his team start painting the inside of the center and laying the vinyl, Cullen, Tyr, and I work hard on the grounds. This involves having a truck load of gravel delivered and spread over the drive, fixing holes in the fence that surrounds the main garden so no dogs can escape, and setting up the assault course with a variety of agility tasks to keep the dogs entertained and fit.
We also spend time on the garden to make it attractive for the staff but also dog-friendly, trimming the trees and planting bushes like camellias that aren’t poisonous to dogs but that will give them some shade and have pretty flowers.
Beth turns up each afternoon, and we have a hug in passing, but she’s busy with Isla helping source office equipment, and she and Natalie also have the windows measured for new curtains and blinds.
Last week, she came to my place most evenings, but on Monday and Tuesday she tells me after work that she’s really tired and claims she’s bad company. So even though I offer to cook her dinner and tell her I don’t mind if she falls asleep in front of the TV afterward, she gives me a kiss and says she’d rather go back to the cottage.
I don’t argue, knowing it’s important to give her some room, plus I’m tired, too.
Even so, I’m disappointed that she doesn’t want to just spend time with me. Does she think I’ll expect sex if she turns up? Because as much as I enjoy making love with her, that’s not the case. I just want to be with her. Maybe I haven’t made that clear enough, and I decide to talk to her about it on Wednesday.
I plan to find some time at the center, but mid-afternoon she comes and finds me out watering the camellia bushes and says, “Is it okay if I come over to yours tonight? I need to talk to you about something.”
“You can talk to me now,” I tell her.
But she shakes her head and says, “No, it’s okay, I’d rather wait. I’ll come to yours around six?” She smiles.
“Sure.” I open my mouth to say something further, but she turns and walks away. My stomach flips uneasily. During my years as a therapist, I’ve developed a sixth sense—I’m not sure whether it’s just instinct and experience, or something more ephemeral like being able to sense someone’s energy or aura—but using it now, I’m sure that something’s wrong.
It sits at the back of my mind all afternoon, my brain worrying at it the way a tongue probes a loose tooth. Is she about to tell me she doesn’t want to be with me? It would explain why I haven’t seen her the last few evenings. I can’t think why she’d come to that decision—I know she’s struggled to put her previous relationship behind her, but she’s been very clear that she’s enjoyed being with me. She even saidI think we could have something very special.
Has she seen Jude, maybe decided to go back to him? She is working at the Ark after all, so she’s bound to bump into him. I discount it, though. I don’t think either she or Jude are interested in picking things up again.
I’ll just have to wait to find out.
When I come back inside around five, I plan to ask her if she wants to walk to the house with me. But she’s already gone back to the cottage, so I walk home with Queenie trotting at my side, telling myself not to worry, and failing.
Not sure if she wants dinner, I turn the oven on, make the dough for a pizza, and layer it with toppings. I’m just about to feed Queenie when I look out of the window and see Beth arriving on her bike. Suddenly nervous, I go to the front door and open it, waiting as she leans her bike against the wall and walks toward me.
“Hey,” she says. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She bends to fuss Queenie, avoiding my gaze.
“Come in.” I watch her pass me and close the door behind her. Normally I’d have grabbed her for a kiss, but nerves stop me.
She walks in and looks around, then gestures at the sofa. “Come and sit down with me.”
“Uh-oh,” I joke, “this doesn’t look good.”
To my alarm, she doesn’t reply with a chuckle or reassurance but goes over to the sofa and sinks onto it.
I pick up Queenie’s food and place it next to her water, then turn off the oven, because I don’t think we’ll be eating anytime soon. “Would you like a drink?”
“No thanks.”
