“Your monthly croissant, Jellybean.”
She smiles wide, but shakes her head. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m not on my period.”
Her slender hand reaches out to take the bag from me anyway, her fingers brushing mine, and she definitely adds something new to the routine when she steps up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. Lord give me strength. This version of her is too perfect. I didn’t even realize how fucking sweet she might be as a girlfriend. My mind is in overdrive, unable to keep up with all the ways she’s outdoing my daydreams of her.
Her words register after a minute, and my nose scrunches in disbelief.
“Gem, my calendar has never been wrong. Not in the four years I’ve been bringing you croissants.”
She takes another sip of her vanilla latte, choking on it just a little, and she turns around so her back is to me, avoiding my gaze.
My thoughtsrace, piecing together the clues.
No period.
She didn’t drink last night.
In fact, she hasn’t had a drink in…a month? Since the night before she and Spencer broke up, as far as I can recall.
I dart to her fridge, swinging the door open with the fervor of a madman. My eyes scan the contents rapidly, looking for proof.
The rosé and wine coolers I expect to find are…noticeably absent.
But she has a bottle of Pedialyte on the bottom shelf. Vegetables. Proteins. No soft cheeses.
Half of this shit wouldn’t mean anything to me, except for what my parents deigned to over-share with me when discussing their fertility efforts and what to expect from their impending journey, if all goes well. Their fridge was already half-empty in anticipation of what was to come (hence my questions that prompted the over-sharing when I went scrounging for food), and it looked alotlike the scene in front of me now.
The wheels are turning in my head, and everything is clicking together.
No period.
Her avoiding me when I pointed it out.
Why she was so emotional the other night.
The lack of alcohol in her house.
Her nursing only waters last night.
This healthy food? She doesn’t eat this shit on her own.
Why she was so adamant I leave if I wasn’t serious about her, if I wasn’t all in?
Could this be part of why she’s been so hesitant to let me back in her life?
It’s not justherlife anymore?
My entire life flashes before my eyes in a matter of seconds, as the pieces of the puzzle put themselves together as I stare into space, at the bottom shelf of her fridge.
Ijustfigured out what I want from life.Her. Please don’t take away my chance to build this life with her. Even if it looks different from what I thought it would. I don’t care.
My mind is made up in less than fifteen seconds, and I all but slam the door of the refrigerator as I turn to face her. She’s still facing the other way, busying herself by the sink, doing fuck knows what rather than face me.
I approach her slowly, surely, and corner her against the deep well of the sink. My presence startles her, and she nearly jumps out of her skin, turning around to face me, her eyes falling down my chest and abdomen as she sees how little space there is between us.
“What are you doing?” she asks, a little breathless.
I don’t even mind the fact that she has coffee breath. That should tell you how much this girl means to me. Because if a costar has it on set? I’m out until that shit passes.
