“Okay.”
“Goodnight, Guinevere.”
“It’s Gwen and it’s only seven. You’re going to bed already?”
I hear him take a few steps closer. “What I do isn’t your business… Gwen. Remember that.”
Wow. Seriously? He’s going to be that rude? “I was just making an observation.”
“Don’t. You won’t like what you observe,” he states coldly and stalks out of the room. The entire time I didn’t look at him and felt no desire to either, until his parting comment. Now I can’t take my eyes off his back as he walks away.
What the hell did he mean by that? What won’t I like? Not that I’m trying to like anything or looking for something to like.
I wake up in the morning earlier than usual. Stupid morning sickness should have stopped by now. It hasn’t. I race to the bathroom and fall to my knees in front of the toilet. Yuck. Luckily the sickness subsides after the first emptying of my stomach, unlike the past few months where it has lingered deep in my midriff, unrelenting for hours, sometimes making me feel so ill I’ve cried.
Once that’s over with, I have a long shower. It’s needed. I’m ashamed of myself for going for so long without one, especially when there’s a bathroom right next to my room and it has a gorgeous walk in shower and a huge tub. They’re old fashioned but they work brilliantly.
When I finally make it downstairs I have to breathe deeply when I smell bacon. It’s odd because yesterday I wanted bacon and now the thought of it makes my stomach roll. I tentatively make my way into the dining area where I find Nathan sat much like he was yesterday morning, only this time he holds a different book and no glasses are perched on his nose. His hair is styled differently too, or maybe he just hasn’t combed it yet.
He looks far more casual than yesterday in a blue shirt and dark jeans. This makes me wonder why he was wearing a suit last night. I don’t remember him going anywhere to make him feel the need to change into something so formal.
“You’re staring at me,” he comments as I lower myself into my seat.
“Sorry,” I mumble and look down at my plate. I can hear Jeanine in the background singing to herself, although I’m not entirely sure which direction her voice is coming from. “I was wondering…”
“Jeanine!” His hand smacks the table making me jump and gasp. “Enough!”
I’m shocked when I hear her laugh loudly before falling silent. He rubs his eyes with his gloved hands and places the book down on the placemat across from me.
“You were wondering…?” he prompts me to finish my earlier sentence.
“Oh, umm… I can’t remember now.”
He gives me a pointed look and I have to fight against my need to shy away from his dark gaze. “Don’t play with me. Spit it out.”
Snort. I haven’t felt the need to laugh in a really long time, but this almost pushes me over.
He thinks on it for a moment before rolling his eyes when he figures out the reason for my unattractive snort. “Honestly, how old are you?”
“Twenty one.”
“It was a rhetorical question aimed at your level of maturity.”
I keep my eyes down and pick at the bacon on my plate.
He sighs loudly. “Yesterday you wanted bacon and now that you have it, you aren’t happy. Typical.”
“No,” I shake my head. “It’s great. Thank you.” I slowly move a piece toward my mouth, my eyes flickering to him. “Smoked. I love smoked bacon.” My stomach makes a loud churning noise and I stand slowly. “Excuse me.” With my hand over my mouth, I rush from the room and back upstairs. Hurl. Gross.
Jeanine joins me a few minutes later with a cup of ginger flavoured tea and a ginger biscuit. Why do all older people think ginger is the cure for all sickness? It doesn’t work. Well, it doesn’t for me. I can’t stand ginger.
I head back to my room seeking solitude.
There’s a light tapping at the door after twenty minutes of my being in here but I don’t respond. I sit on the window seat and stare solemnly through the glass. The trees look so thick and vibrant when you try to look through the leaves, but if you’re walking through them they don’t look nearly so thick. They’re actually quite spaced out. It’s all of the bushes and twigs that make the forest difficult to walk through. I bet if you flew above this particular patch of trees and looked down, it would look like a blanket of leaves covering the cliff.
The tapping turns to knocking. I still don’t respond.
The door opens anyway. Great.
I don’t turn to look at whoever it is, but I feel them enter and I can sense his domineering presence. I know who it is as soon as he steps through the door.
“You’re sick?”
“Morning sickness, which comes on randomly throughout the day,” I explain and tuck my hair behind my ears, my eyes still staring off into the distance.
“You’re sad,” he observes and I want to gape at him.
“How can I not be?”
“It’s been nearly a month,” he says quietly, almost as if trying to comfort me with his tone.
This time I do look at him. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
He looks at me for a moment longer, his blank eyes giving nothing away. “You have a doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes. He’s travelled to the village to see you. Don’t be late.”
“And how exactly am I expected to get there?” I ask, my voice casual, my body tense.
“Jeanine will drop you off on her way home and I’ll pick you up when it’s finished.” He closes the door on his way out. I rush around getting ready, making sure to put on trousers so the doctor won’t get a glimpse of my ‘mini’ if he has to do an ultrasound. Unfortunately I have only one set of clean clothes left due to the fact my things are still in Nathan’s car and I’ve used all the clothes in my rucksack. I pull these on with a sigh, thankful the brown T-shirt matches my beige jeans and boots. I don’t look a total disaster. They fit too, which is an even bigger relief.
Nathan is nowhere in sight when I leave and I’m glad for it. I’m not sure how to react to him right now. The guy has issues I don’t want to deal with. You’d think he’d be a little more sympathetic towards me right now. You’d think he’d be a bit more emotional too. Caleb was his brother and yet he shows no signs of grief. He shows no signs of any emotion whatsoever. I’ve never met a more robotic person in my life.
Why is part of me screaming to be grateful? He’s messing up his privacy, his home, just to accommodate me and my baby.
But another part of me is saying he should. It’s his niece or nephew that is growing inside me. He should make sure he or she has everything that his brother would’ve given. Well, not everything, but he should help.
It still doesn’t dismiss his demeanour towards me.
“Be patient,” Jeanine tells me as we pull up to the curb after a long and quiet ride here. “He’ll calm down. He’s just not used to company.”
“What do you mean by that?” I mean, it’s obvious she means he lives alone but I can’t help but feel that there’s more meaning to her statement.