on his gloves and rinsing the glass out about six times. The rinsing of the glass was the perfect opportunity to wake up ‘involuntarily’ but I don’t want to impose on his quiet time.
He really should see somebody about his germ issue. If he hasn’t already, that is.
We arrive at his office at no later than seven fifteen, which annoys me because I was hoping to sleep in until at least nine. Plus the way he woke me up wasn’t exactly nice.
He stood over the bed and shouted, “GWEN!” Louder than was necessary. I almost peed myself during the flailing that tangled me in the bedding. He thought it was hilarious. It’s nice to see him laugh. I can’t deny that his laugh is wonderful; it’s contagious and I found myself wanting to laugh with him.
“Why can’t you do this at home?” I ask, my chin resting on my hands as I sleepily watch him work on the computer in his dad’s office.
“Because I can only access certain files from my home computer and these need to be done today.”
“Do you want a drink?” I ask, eager to change the subject from files just in case he decides to give me a lesson in exports, imports and stocks.
“I’ll ask Sammy.”
“It’s Sophie,” I correct and shake my head. “She has a crush on you.”
His cheeks seem to pink slightly. “Huh. I didn’t notice.”
“Yep.” I spin in my seat, stopping as I face him. “She was devastated when you forgot her name yesterday.”
“Huh,” he murmurs and places his leather clad hand on the phone.
“I want to make the drinks. I’m bored.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” He frowns and glances down at my stomach.
Well that makes no sense. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid. Besides, I cook for you at home all the time.”
I watch as defeat falls over his face. “Do as you wish.” He waves his hand flippantly in the air. “I’ll take a coffee, bla…”
“Black, one sugar, got it. I’ll even rinse the cup out six times just for you,” I remark and waddle towards the door.
“You have a mean streak, joking about a real condition,” he teases and flexes his hands in an apparently subconscious gesture.
I grin at him. It’s real, it’s mischievous, it’s old Gwen. He winks at me, noticing my shift in mood, no matter how temporary.
Then it’s ruined as the second I place my hand on the door it swings wide open. My body lurches backwards as it connects with my arm, narrowly missing my swollen navel.
Ouch.
Before I lose my balance entirely, I manage to right myself and Nathan rushes to my side.
“Are you alright?” He asks, scanning me from head to toe with worried eyes. After I nod he turns to the intruder. I see his body visibly tense and I peek around him to see who it is. Familiar scowls shadowed by dark hair come into view. Their faces are the same masks of disgust that have taunted me since our first meeting.
His parents.
Both Nathan and Caleb share their mother’s eyes but everything else belongs to their father. It’s strange to look at. He’s one of those people that age well, like George Clooney or Richard Gere. Still handsome after they passed their prime.
I gulp when his mother’s cold eyes narrow on me. Nathan closes the door, his eyes still on his father who’s staring at me with shock and disgust. “Explain.” He barks at Nathan, who just stands silently, his jaw tense, his eyes slightly wide.
“Why is she here?” His mother hisses and I wince at the bitterness to her tone.
“She’s my guest,” Nathan responds, his tongue marking his lower lip.
“Your guest?” His mother shrieks and looks back at me. “How can you even think of having that… that… slut as your guest?”
My mouth drops open and Nathan’s body tenses further. I remain behind him, my heart racing with fear. “She’s carrying Caleb’s child,” Nathan says and shifts on the spot.
“So she says,” his father adds and my temper rises. How dare he?
“Why are you still standing there?” His mother shouts at me and my hands instantly go to my stomach. How do I react to this? “Leave!”
Nathan steps to the right, blocking them from view. “She’ll stay as long as she desires. She’s my guest.”
“She’s nothing but a whore,” his mother adds, trying to lean around Nathan so she can see me and spit her venomous words at my face.
“Mother.” Mother? Why not mum? “Watch your language.”