Either way, I do something that I probably shouldn’t.
I pick her up in my arms, careful not to wake her, and carry her upstairs to my bed.
Lying her gently down on top of the mattress, I can’t help but notice something that I missed when re-exploring her body when we slept together, albeit in the dark and drunk, but I notice it now. The tiny tattoo on her inner ankle of a small rose.
The one she got when we eloped because she said roses represent eternal love.
4
ROSIE
How is it possible that I wake up in my ex-husband’s bed… again.
I don’t even need to appraise the area because I feel the sheets, and my eyes pop open as I lie on my side. The mattress has firmness yet is still heavenly to sleep against. I remember. However, it’s the tingle that hits my nose that confirms I’m in Carter’s bed.
His scent.
It’s not sweet but reminds me of fall, if that’s possible. Fall is a warm and cozy season. My favorite, too. Olive Owl, our family winery, is known for pumpkin season, and I couldn’t grow up a Blisswood and not love it.
But this smell is fall mixed with Carter. A poison that spreads through my veins.
He is nowhere to be found, which is slightly a relief. I flop to my back, and I raspberry a breath. I turn my head slightly to see the clock saying that it’s seven in the morning.
I’ve been in this bed all night. I don’t remember ending up here, nor would this have been my sleeping destination. The sofa was the safest option. It seems that Carter didn’t agree and took the liberty to carry me upstairs… to his bed. I should question why here and not the other two bedroom options, but I don’t ponder for long.
Nausea is greeting me early today, and I know if I sit up that it will make it worse. Hopeless, I roll to my side, reaching behind me to grab an extra pillow to hold. I’ve heard many times how morning sickness can go along with pregnancy, but the last few days seem a little excessive if I’m being honest.
I’ve seen my mom and aunts pregnant, and although they had morning sickness, I don’t remember it being this bad.
Escaping this bed isn’t going to happen unless I have no choice and need to try and make the trek to the toilet.
My body is stuck in one position with the pit of my stomach moving.
I’d be lying if I blamed staying in bed on the baby. It’s probably a little part of me that doesn’t want to leavehisbed.
I’m curious if we kept to our sides or if we cuddled in our sleep. Last time I was here, I woke in his arms. Chiseled muscle with veins visible on his forearms because he’s strong and keeps me snug.
The sound of Carter walking up the stairs causes my heart to jump for a second, but then the power of my empty stomach takes over.
His steps slow when he approaches the door to his room. He must be hesitating with what to say. I’ll make it easy and tell him the truth: I’m incapable of moving and can only think of how to end this moment of misery.
I don’t look up when he enters the room. Okay, I briefly do to see he’s in dark blue jeans with a maroon t-shirt.
“Hey,” he says softly as he saunters slowly to me.
“Hi,” I mumble against the pillow.
His face shows sympathy which means I don’t need to explain. “Not feeling too good, are you?”
My eyes hood gently closed in a hope to stop the dizziness hitting my head. “No. The idea of water makes it worse.” The crinkle of a wrapper causes me to lift one lid and see that he is holding out bland crackers.
“Maybe this will help.” The mattress dips when he sits down next to me and rubs my shoulder as I attempt to sit up before accepting the cracker from his hand. Taking one bite, it seems to help for a few seconds.
Then it doesn’t.
I kick off the pillow and blankets, shoving him away, then rush out of bed straight to the bathroom, dropping to the floor next to the toilet, and I throw up clear puke.
I’m not even sure when Carter put his hand on my back and brushed my hair to one side. “It’s okay,” he says, attempting to soothe me.
