forehead. “The second drawer is all yours. I put the few things you had here in there; hope that’s okay.”
“That’s sweet of you, Kill. Thanks.” I watch until she disappears into the bathroom and snag my keys before taking out the trash.
Locking her inside my place while I’m gone for two minutes might be crossing the line from protective to psycho over the top, but now that I have her, I’m not risking losing her to anything.
~*~
Axelle
I shut the bathroom door behind me, and now that I’m safe behind the closed door, I grip my stomach.
It took everything I had to remain casual when the truth was, once the smell of cooking eggs hit my nose, I was fighting throwing up. I’m sure I have some stupid stomach bug. I guess I should be happy that the only symptoms so far are a lack of appetite and a little nausea.
I strip off my clothes and turn the shower on hot. My body is sensitive, and if I’m being honest a little sore from last night. The hot water will do wonders to loosen up my tight muscles and hopefully to drown out the smell of scrambled egg.
My throat floods with saliva, and I hold my fingers over my lips and breathe through my nose. What the hell?
Once under the hot spray I feel a little better. I wash my hair, my body, shave with Killian’s kick-ass razor—seriously, why is it that they make men’s razors so much more effective than women’s?
I linger a little longer even after I’m finished until I’m finally feeling back to normal. Turning the spray off, I push out and wrap up in a towel. The mirror is fogged, but I can see the pink glow on my cheeks. Whether it’s from last night or the hot shower, I don’t know. My guess is a combination of the two.
Reaching for the second drawer, I grin when I find all my things divided into sections of a cool plastic divider tray. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, there are even cotton balls and Q-tips. I grin when I see a special square filled with black ponytail holders. He stocked up just for me.
Something in the back of the drawer catches my eye. I lean down and see several brands, boxes, and packages of tampons and pads. He kept all those from last month? I cover my mouth to muffle a laugh. He’s way too good to me.
I grab my toothbrush and get to work on my teeth. That night after Clifford’s birthday, if I’d only known— My hand freezes. Clifford’s birthday.
January 11th.
Foam drips from the corner of my mouth.
Today is February 16th.
I yank open the drawer and stare at the boxes in the back as if they hold the answers I’m looking for.
Over a month ago.
I should’ve had a period by now.
I drop my toothbrush into the sink and do a quick count on my fingers. No, that can’t be right. I count again. And again. Then one more time to be sure.
Oh my God.
I’m pregnant.
Eighteen
Killian
I’ve cleaned my entire studio apartment, which isn’t saying much since the place is the size of a matchbox.
I stare at the bathroom door, wondering why the shower turned off over thirty minutes ago and she still hasn’t emerged.
I’ve heard women take a long time to get ready. I’m sure that’s all it is.
I study her bag on the floor. She doesn’t have her clothes in there, so what could she possibly be doing?
As much as I want to bang on the door and check on her, I resolve not to scare her away with my incessant badgering. It was bad enough that I couldn’t leave her alone about the eggs. If I’m not smart, I could easily push her away by loving her too much.
I drop back to the bed and scroll through my phone, returning text messages and checking email.
After several minutes, the bathroom door swings open and Axelle comes out. She’s clutching her towel at her chest so tightly her knuckles are strained, and her hair is wet and un-brushed with a few strands around her face already air dry. She stares at me blankly, and it’s then I notice how pale she is. And she’s shivering.
I launch off the bed and cup her face. “Shit, you’re freezing.” I run my hands over her shoulders and down her arms; her skin is like ice beneath my touch. “What the fuck is going on?” I vacillate between covering her with my body to