Rubbing my face, I’m thankful that a giant dose of oxytocin will keep me going today.
“Just let me be. I’m going to head out. I really need to keep the day moving before I pass out.” And I don’t plan on wasting any more seconds.
Esme is at home, and unlucky for her, this is all going to go one way.
My way.
23
ESME
Pulling the pie out of the oven, I’m proud of myself. The kitchen smells of baked cherries, and first glance at my creation, I can see that the crust is just right with a golden sheen. Later, I’ll add on some ice cream, and this will be complete.
Waking up at eleven in the morning, I felt refreshed, or rather I refuse to spend another day in bed at the mercy of a virus that’s been taking me down for the count. I’m on the mend enough, and baking a pie feels fitting considering where my mind has been.
I saw Keats’s bags at the bottom of the stairs, and to be honest, the overbearing sense that he was near seeped through my body when I woke. It’s the faint aroma of his cologne and the air feeling less chilly. He must have had to run to the office and didn’t want to wake me. Or even headed to the gym which is why I haven’t bothered texting. He’s back a day early, and me being knocked out in bed probably already ruined his surprise.
Setting the dish on the wire rack, I shuffle my hands out of the oven mitts and graze my finger on the top of the pie tocheck the crust. Or rather boost my confidence of my talented hobby.
Underneath keeping myself busy lies the true meaning for baking. I want to do something for Keats. The time away from one another has been enlightening for me. My thoughts began to line up, and the way I missed him even for a few days has only proven that I would miss him in the future, too.
A pie is a perfect symbol of our new beginning. He is more than worthy of one of my pies.
The sound of the door opening down the hall causes my subtle smile to beam. Grabbing the nearby kitchen towel, I squish it around the pie dish to lift up and display my gift. Turning around as Keats enters, my smile turns to a frown.
He slowly saunters to the kitchen island, keeping the counter as a barrier between us. Fear runs through me, tightening my heart. Keats appears serious, and it concerns me. There are no open arms or welcoming cunning grins. Instead, he stares at me with his chin gruff and his eyes heavy, slicing through me.
“I can’t fight the reality anymore,” he states.
Swallowing, nerves take over.
Plop.
The pie drops to my feet.
“Shit.” My eyes sink down to the splattered red and gold. That’s going to be hell to clean up, but I’ll worry about that later. “Uh, I made you a pie.” I smile nervously in an attempt to break the tense air.
Finally, he steps closer, and his face relaxes. “I can see that.” He smirks.
I roll a shoulder back, swimming my eyes in all directions except straight at him. “It turns out that I like you a lot, which means you finally get a pie,” I attempt to joke.
“I finally deserve one?”
Nodding my head, I remind myself that I woke up intent of being the spitfire that I’ve always been around him. “I can’t hide it anymore.”
My mind turns flustered at all of the disappointment inside me because he seems different, as though his reality isn’t my own.
Keats steps closer. “Me neither, and when I saw the pregnancy test…”
I gulp air.Shit. Shit. Shit.
How could I forget about that?
“It’s not what you think. It’s negative, and I was just trying to figure out if I’ve been good old-fashioned sick or if the stress of the house caused me to forget one or two pills.” I hold my hands up as if I need to defend myself. “But it’s negative,” I assure him.
“I’m kind of pissed about that.”
My eyes bug out. Okay, forget every warm and fuzzy feeling that I had when I woke up. That spell has now been broken, and I clench my fists at my sides. “Are you kidding me? Last I checked it’s a mutual risk when you decide to put your cock inside me,” I sneer.
