Ok, think all the way back to 5th grade. What did they teach you? What do you know?
“Do you have tampons and stuff?”She nods. That’s good, I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to buy those. But I would if I needed to.
“Ok, what do you need?” I ask, sitting on the bed next to her and rubbing her lower back.
“Mmmm,” she moans, slowly stretching out as I continue to rub her lower back.
“I just need to not be a woman anymore,” she whines.
“Well, that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. She glares at me over her shoulder.
“Sorry, I’ll just shut up and rub your back,” I mumble.
“Good idea,” she sasses.
I rub her back until she’s lying face down on her stomach, no longer scrunched into a little ball.
“I’m going to go run you a bath. Eat some of the food and drink the coffee, it will make you feel better,” I say, kissing the top of her head and turning towards the bathroom.
I turn the water on hot and fill it with some of the bubble bath stuff that has found its way under my sink.
“Let’s get you in here,” I say when she’s done with her bagel and coffee. She nods, and I help her into the bathroom.
“I’ll be downstairs,” I say, kissing her head and shutting the door behind me.
I make my way downstairs, figuring that she’ll be in there for awhile. I pull out my phone and do a quick search for things to help with cramps and period stuff in general.
Once I have a list of things I’ll need, I leave a note on the counter with some pills and water, letting her know that I’ll be right back and that there is a heating pad in the laundry room.
I slip on some shoes and a hat before grabbing my keys, telling Mocha to look out for our girl. I get into my truck and head to the store.
I get a whole variety of different things at the store, and grab some stuff for what someone called aShark Week Basket. Which actually has nothing to do with Shark Week.
When I get back into the car, I realize that I have time to stop by the cafe she likes to pick her up a chocolate croissant and a matcha.
When I get home, she’s still upstairs in the bath. So I dispose of the note and quickly get the basket ready. A journal, some stickers, some Polaroid film, a fuzzy blanket with matching socks, a random romance book, some of her favorite snacks and treats, a few candles, and the last thing, two matching hoodies, one for her and one for Mocha, that I’d figure she’d love.
Not everything fits in the basket, so instead I just put what fit, and arranged everything else to look nice. I put the food in the fridge for me to cook later, and then I grab her drink and the croissant, heading upstairs to check on her.
“Baby?” I question softly, knocking on the bedroom door.
I hear a groan, and I softly open the door. She’s curled back up onto the bed, and Mocha is snuggled up with her.
“Did you get some medicine?” I ask, and she nods without opening her eyes.
“That’s good,” I say, walking farther into the room, noticing that she’s wearing one of my tees.
It’s not until I’m standing right next to the bed that she opens her eyes to look at me.
“B,” she whispers, her bottom lip trembling as she looks at what I have in my hands for her.
Oh man, if she’s going to cry over a twelve-dollar order, she’s going to lose her shit when she goes downstairs and sees the counter.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as she slowly sits up, her hair still a little damp and messy. She looks gorgeous.
She shrugs, and Mocha moves so that he’s in her lap. She takes the drink and bag from me, a small smile forming on her lips as she takes a sip.
“It’s…perfect, how did you get it right?” she asks, and I kiss her forehead.
