wearing me down, dominating me. I guess I’d
better get out of here and get back to work and
stop thinking about things I shouldn’t be
contemplating.
“Hey!”
She blocks me at the door, calling out with her
sleepy voice. “How long have you been here?” she
asks, pulling herself up to a sitting position.
I turn again and swallow these new and
terrifying feelings.
“I just came up to see how you were. Jay said
you weren’t feeling well.”
“I was just tired. Seems like I never sleep
enough.”
I smile because I’ve seen this many times in the
past and I know that pregnancy brings along
difficulties and a sense of tiredness, especially at
the beginning.
“I’m feeling better now. Maybe I could go back
down—”
“Stay there,” I interrupt her. “Don’t you dare go
back to work.”
What the hell am I saying? Where are these
alpha male overprotective words coming from?
“I’m not sick, Patrick, you don’t have to worry
about me,” she says resentfully.
“I don’t want one of my employees to work
when they aren’t in a condition to do so.”
Asshole.
And liar.
