Jesus, he’s been giving me countdowns for the last fifteen minutes; I’m over them. Like, if he gives me another one, I’m going to punch him in the face.
Calm down.
You’re not going to punch your husband.
Yes, I fucking am.
“Birdie.” He joins me in the walk-in robe. “Did you hear me?”
I spin to face him. “Yes, I bloody heard you! The first time, the second time, and the third time! I know we need to leave, but I can’t find my pink scarf and I need it, so we’re not leaving until I bloody find it. Make yourself useful and help me search for it.”
Don’t punch him.
Do. Not. Do. It.
His brows arch. “You’ve got a thousand other scarfs. Why do you need the pink one?”
“Oh my God, you did not just say that!” I spin back around, willing my arm to stay by my side instead of extending itself towards him. “Go away. I’ll find it myself.”
“Fucking hell, Birdie. We’re going to be late to our appointment. Just wear a different scarf.”
“Winter, if you want your balls to stay connected to your body, you’ll shut the hell up and leave. I’m not wearing a different scarf. I need this one for luck.”
I hear the long breath he exhales, and it pisses me off just as much as his countdowns. “Angel, you don’t need a scarf for luck.”
Ignoring him, I continue searching, throwing clothes here, there, and everywhere in my desperate attempt to find this scarf.
I do need luck.
I need all of it and I need it today.
We’re going in for another ultrasound and blood test, and I’m ready for results that tell the doctor it’s time for the trigger shot. The last shot to prepare the eggs for collection. I’ve had four weeks of daily injections, near-daily blood tests, and so many ultrasounds I can’t keep count anymore. I’ve had headaches, cramps, bloating, mood swings, sore boobs, food cravings, weight gain, and pain. I’m way past ready to get these eggs out of me and get them fertilised. And yeah, if I’m honest, I’m ready for Winter to go in and contribute to this baby. Let him get his dick out and jerk off.
God, I’m a bitch.
It’s not like he hasn’t been by my side every step of the way, but in my darkest, most awful moments, I can’t help but feel like I’m the one who’s had to do everything and put up with all the side effects. My body feels like it’s been pushed and prodded all over the damn place. And we’re not even at the finish line yet. I just want a day off, but since that’s not going to happen, I’ve allowed myself to dwell in the shit of it all and take it out on Winter this morning.
I want to turn around and say sorry for being a bitch, but I can’t bring myself to do that. Not yet. I’m more compelled to feel sorry for myself for a bit longer than I am to apologise and get on with what I’ve got to do.
“I found it!” I wrap it around my neck and face him. “I’m ready now, master.”
More of those arched brows. Then, a shake of his head and—“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me.”
“Well, you’ve been marching around the house all morning issuing orders like a master. It’s fitting.”
“And you’ve been taking your sweet time getting ready. One of us needs to keep an eye on the clock.”
“One of these days, I’m gonna get myself a new husband who doesn’t know what a clock is.”
His nostrils flare. “Yeah, you go ahead and try that, baby. See how fucking far you get. If you think I’m ever allowing that, you’re fucking delusional.”
And just like that, my annoyance with him disappears. Winter’s possessiveness is always a turn on for me, even when sex is the last thing on my mind. We haven’t had sex for weeks thanks to the fertility drugs, and I don’t want it now, but what he’s just said reminds me how much I want him. And how much I love him.
Gripping his arm, I say, “I hate these drugs.”
“You and me both.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch this morning.”
Winter’s phone rings and he checks the caller ID. Holding it up, he shows me it’s Max. “You take this while walking that ass of yours to the car. I’ll grab your work stuff.”
Swiping the phone from him, I kiss him quickly before saying, “Yes, master.”