Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
The confusion in Pete’s face is obvious, and the disbelieving look on mine must be clear, too. ‘Urhh… yes, Mr Ward. Salad and new potatoes?’ Pete asks. His puzzled eyes have drifted across to my dumbstruck face, I can feel them on me, but I’m too busy staring at my impossible husband to acknowledge him.
‘Yes, just make sure one steak is thoroughly cooked.’ Jesse accepts the bottled water from Mario and starts pouring mine into a glass. ‘Is there egg in that salad dressing?’
I actually choke on a cough, not that it makes a bit of difference. He’s just looking at Pete with an expectant raised brow. Poor Pete has no idea what’s going on. ‘I’m not sure. Should I check?’
‘Yes, if there is, leave the salad with the well-cooked steak un-dressed.’
‘Okay, Mr Ward.’
Mario backs away, as does Pete, and we’re alone at the bar, me in a stunned silence and Jesse busying himself with water pouring duties to avoid facing his astonished wife. He knows that I’m gawking at him, he damn well knows it.
I turn myself back to the bar, all calm and unruffled, but I’m quietly raging. He just can’t help himself. ‘If you don’t go to that kitchen, change my order and get me a glass of wine, then I’m one step closer to moving in with my parents for the rest of this pregnancy.’ I know he’s looking at me now. I can feel his shocked greens burning a hole in my profile. I take my glass of water and slowly turn my face to his. ‘You are not trampling my diet, Ward.’
‘You’ve already got yourself pissed while you were pregnant.’ he spits quietly. He’s not happy, but neither am I.
‘I was mad with you.’ I still sound calm, but now I feel guilty, too.
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘So you thought you would take it out on my baby?’
I soak up the resentment pouring from him. ‘You keep saying my baby. It’s ours.’
‘That’s what I meant!’
‘You’re not worried about me, then? It’s not my safety anymore?’ I watch him carefully, weighing up his reaction to my words.
I’ve shocked him because he’s not coming back with a counter attack. He’s just severely chomping on that bottom lip, his mind’s cogs racing at a million miles per hour. He finally sags, swinging away from me on his stool, his hands diving straight into his messy array of dark blonde. ‘Fucking hell,’ he curses quietly. ‘Fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck!’
‘I mean it, Jesse.’ I reinforce my threat. I need him to know that I’m not setting myself up for this. I was wrong to go out and get myself pissed up, aware that I’m pregnant, but it was only a result of what this man does to me—what this man spikes in me. I won’t be getting pissed again, but a small glass of red wine won’t hurt and a half cooked steak is harmless. Don’t even get me started on the eggs.
I see his eyes clench shut and he takes a deep breath before turning towards my calm face. He takes my water and places it on the bar, and then holds my hands in his. ‘I’m sorry.’
I very nearly fall off my stool. ‘You are?’ There is no escaping the shock in my voice. Even if I was threatening him with confidence, I had absolutely no faith that he would take any notice of me.
‘I am. I’m sorry. This is going to take some getting used to.’
I laugh. ‘Jesse, this is hard enough to cope with, without dealing with an enhanced control freak. It’s not something I planned or even considered. I don’t need you on my case, analysing every move I make, monitoring everything that passes my lips. Please don’t make this tougher than it already is.’ I started on a laugh, but that little speech just ended completely seriously. I mean every word, and he knows it. His sorry eyes confirm it. I know he can’t help it, but he must. I need to work heavily on some reassurance, and then perhaps he might ease up. It’s an ambitious thought when he’s hardly learnt to control his challenging ways when it comes to only me.
I let out an almighty sigh and stand up, positioning myself between his legs. ‘I want my baby to have a daddy. Please, try to reduce the risk of a stress induced heart attack by chilling out a little.’ I kiss every part of his face that I can lay my lips on, and he lets me.
‘Hmmm. I’ll work on it, baby. I’m really trying, but can we at least compromise?’
‘Compromise how?’
I feel his hand slide onto my head and grasp my hair, pulling my busy lips away from him. He pouts. ‘Please don’t drink.’ His eyes are pleading with me, and I realise all too quickly how important it is to him. He’s a recovering alcoholic, even if he won’t admit it. For me to chuck alcohol down my throat in normal circumstances would be thoughtless. While I’m carrying his baby would be way past that. It would be cruel.