Page 8 of Line Change

The first thing I notice when I wake up the next morning is that I’m clasping Sebastian’s bicep as if I’m holding on for dear life. Given the dreams I had, I probably was. I quickly let go of him. I shouldn’t be touching him, not like that.

I watch him sleep, his hair falling across his forehead, and fight the urge to reach over and brush it away. I’ve always thought he was hot, but up close, I realize how even more good looking he is, and those tattoos, holy shit. I’ve seen the ones on his arms, but I didn’t realize he had them on his chest too. Then again, I’ve never seen him without a shirt on, so how would I know?

“You going to stare at me all morning?” Sebastian’s husky voice startles me, and I gasp.

He cracks open his eyes, grinning.

“I was not staring at you.” I roll over onto my back, stretching. “I just woke up and was trying to orient myself.”

“Right.” He scoffs.

I don’t give him time to say anything else. Instead, I grab my phone and go into the bathroom. When I step out a few minutes later, the bed is empty. Time to get dressed and my favorite part of the morning - coffee. My heart sinks. Can I even drink coffee? The doctor didn’t say, and I didn’t think to ask.

I shake myself out of my funk and head into the guest room so I can get ready. As I’m stepping out of the empty bedroom, my makeup bag in my hand, Sebastian rounds the corner dressed in another pair, or the same pair, of black joggers and a blue Storm shirt. And is that a silver chain peeking out of his shirt? Could this man get any hotter?

“Can I make you a cup of coffee?” he asks, snapping me out of my drooling, which is probably a good thing. “The internet says it’s fine for expectant mothers as long as you don’t overdo it. Or I have a few different types of tea I can make you.” He shifts back on his heels, and my heart skips a beat. He looked it up? Now that is even hotter. “I even have a few herbal teas with no caffeine.”

“A cup of coffee would be great, please.”

“You got it. Milk? Sugar?”

“Both, but I can fix it myself.”

“Alright.” He walks back toward the kitchen, and I make quick work of putting on some makeup and fixing my hair.

“Toast? Eggs?” Sebastian asks when I step into the kitchen, holding out a plate laden with said food. The smell of eggs hits my nose, and I gag.

“No, just the coffee.” I grab my cup, pour in a little bit of creamer, and add a scoop of sugar, trying not to breathe in the smell of eggs. “I think I’m going to go drink this in the living room. Sorry, I can’t …” I gesture to the plate.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. You ate them last night, so it didn’t even occur to me that they might bother you.”

“Same,” I manage to get out as my stomach rolls, and I hightail it out of the kitchen.

Sinking down onto the couch, I gulp fresh, egg-free air, my stomach beginning to settle. I take a few small sips of coffee, and when the nausea doesn’t pick back up, decide I’m safe. At least for now. That was not fun. I bite back a groan. Eggs were fine last night, so why can’t I stomach them now? I hope it’s a fluke, because eggs are a staple protein for me.

“How about a piece of plain toast?” Sebastian rounds the corner, holding a small plate.

“I’ll try.” I give him a weak smile, taking the plate from him. Our fingertips brush, and I swear my whole body heats from the contact. No. Not from the contact. It’s my hormones. I’m hot from being pregnant, not from Sebastian’s touch.

“Do you want me to feed the cats?” he asks, seemingly unaware of what his touch did to me. Good, no need for him to think anything of it because there is nothing going on.

“Please. There’s a scoop in the bag with their food. They get one each.” I take a small bite of the toast. I swallow back a gag just thinking about the smell of their food. On a normal day it’s a lot, but now … Yeah, no way.

“Sure thing.”

When he’s gone, I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes. This is going to be a long pregnancy. How the hell am I going to get through this alone? I mean I’m not alone alone. I’ll have my friends’ support, once I tell them, and Sebastian, but it’s not the same. I don’t have a partner, someone to help me feed the cats when I can’t stomach the smell of their food or run to the store when I’m craving something, to hold my hand in labor. I don’t even want to think about labor right now.

I blink back tears. No way am I going to redo my makeup now. There’s no time to dwell on it. I have to eat breakfast so I can go to work.

A knock on my door around lunchtime has me looking up from my laptop where I’m reviewing a press release for the team’s annual charity gala that needs to go out tomorrow.

“Hey,” I greet Becca, one of my closest friends and the team’s physical therapist.

“Want to go for lunch? Ans and Hads are free now.”

I save the document before pushing back from my desk.

“You alright with walking?” Becca asks me when we’re in the hallway waiting for the elevator.