thought for sure I’d have a Guinevere induced migraine by now.”
Scowl. “I don’t give you migraines.”
“I’ve never had so many migraines in my life.”
I’m about to snap but I realise this is his way of teasing. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen any emotion other than irritation in his eyes. He leads me out of the shop and helps me back into the car, but we don’t pull out immediately. He sits, staring ahead aimlessly. I can see he wants to say something but I don’t prompt him; I only wait. “Look, Guinevere. I know this move hasn’t been easy.” You can say that again. “And I know what you’re going through is a grief like none I can imagine.” You can definitely say that again. “I think things have been tense for both of us and I’d like it if we could try to get along. This stress isn’t good for you and it’s irritating me greatly. My home shouldn’t be a place of war. I want you to feel comfortable.”
“Stop stealing my bacon then.”
He lets out a choked laugh but covers it up with a cough. “If you recall, I gave you bacon this morning but you found the toilet to be greater company than I.”
“For future reference.” I look at his profile and think that he should smile more often. He doesn’t have any of those little crinkles around his eyes that tell you you’re in the presence of a happy person. Something about this makes my chest ache. Caleb had the lines, but he was always smiling. How can his brother seem so different? “And me too. I think it’ll be good if we at least try to tolerate each other,” I say and hold out my hand. “Shake on it?” He stares at my hand like it’s a foreign object. “Oh, right, the no touching of the hands thing. Sorry, I forgot.”
He falls silent for a moment. I see the cogs working in his head as if he’s making a decision. He pulls out onto the street and finally talks. “I don’t like germs.”
“Come again?”
“I have an issue with germs. It’s a real condition.” He adds when he sees the look of shock on my face.
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
“Good. Don’t bring it up, it only aggravates me. Just ignore it.”
I nod, appreciating his honesty and wanting to respect his request. “I won’t mention it.”
He seems to let out a breath but I can’t be sure as I only saw his chest deflate slower than before with no sound to accompany it.
We fall silent once more. This time it’s comfortable.
******
It’s dinner time and I’m starving. After searching the fridge and cupboards, I decide on spaghetti. I make a mean spaghetti Bolognese according to friends and it’s been forever since I cooked. I want to go up to my room and bury my head, but I need to start taking better care of myself. I’ve lost six pounds, putting me one pound under my recommended weight for my height and size. In reality, that means I’m about four pounds underweight because the baby obviously weighs something.
It scares me. Caleb would never let me go more than a few hours without food. He’d done nothing but force me into the kitchen throughout my entire pregnancy. I knew if he could cook he would have, but after a while of trying and failing on so many different dishes, he just started putting me in there and helping in every way he could.
Caleb… just… I…
Sigh.
Nathan went upstairs as soon as we arrived home three hours ago and hasn’t been back since. Maybe he’s hungry. I should make some for him too.
Oooh, I’ll even be able to make some homemade garlic bread. Brilliant.
I tug the apron on, groaning with frustration when it only just reaches around me enough so I can tie the very ends of the strings together, and set about making dinner. I’m one of those people who cleans as I go along, so even though what I’m doing is quite messy, there isn’t a huge mess left when I’m done.
It smells delicious as it simmers in the pot and even more delicious when the bread begins to rise in the oven. With a glass of juice in my hand, I sit on the counter at the corner and stir the simmering Bolognese. My mouth is watering, I’m so hungry.
Once it’s served, I set the table and contemplate whether I should shout for Nathan