Chapter 43 MATING?
I look around the large room at what little stuff I have acquired since my stay with the Grog's Pack and sigh. Now it is all mingled in with Logan's stuff. Our clothes hung together in the nearby closet. My books next to his on the nightstand and in shelves. And I'm sure if I bring myself to investigate it, I'll find both of our toothbrushes together in the bathroom.
I immediately take a strong dislike to the room. This isn't my room and it never will be. This room is a lie, filled with promises of an ordinary life of an ordinary couple. Logan and I not an ordinary couple at least not in my eyes.
I suspect though, that in Logan's eyes,, we are a couple.
Though I knew this day would eventually come, where I'd have to share the same room and bed with him, nothing had ever really prepared me for it. I don't love him the way he wants and it makes me feel wrong. I can lie with him knowing I am carrying the unborn child of the man I love inside me.
I have to fight back another wave of nausea. I am standing so close to the door to use the handle as support.
"You are looking worse than half an hour ago," Logan states. I remove my hand from the door and wipe a cold sweat from my brows and forehead..
"Maybe you should lie down," he suggests.
Yeah, maybe.
He helps me over to the bed and sits me on the end of it. I prop myself up on my knees. My hands clutch them firmly.
"You probably want to change clothes too," he adds. He walks over to the closet and pulls out a pair of white pyjamas with matching top and bottom. I refer to them as my insane asylum wear. Everything I own is white; apart from my training clothes which are merely gray sweats. The only clothes that I own are the ones I wore when I was taken and was graciously allowed to keep.
I suppose that was Logan's doing. I can't imagine Grog caring enough to give them back.
"Thanks," I mutter to him as I take them and stand up. I push myself forward to the ensuite bathroom and close and lock the door behind me. Turning back around, I face the pristine bathroom.
Everything sparkles; the tub, toilet, sink, and shower. They must have had an excellent maid service. Every inch of the room has been scrubbed.
My eyes drift back to the shower and reach out for it. It is a wide, white tiled shower surrounded in glass walls and a glass door. In two corners are shelves with soaps, shampoos and body washes. The tiled cubed room calls out to me.
I suppose I could use a shower. Maybe it will help me feel better.
I pull open the clear door and switch the water on and to hottest temperature setting. Maybe the hotter it is in there, the easier it will be to wipe away all of today; the sweat, the grime, the guilt, and the worry.
But can it truly cleanse me? No. No it can't.
I strip off my clothes and toss them aside. I'll find a hamper later. Right now, all I care about is getting inside the warm cascade of water and forgetting all the things that are wrong with my life.
I step in the warmth of the water and rinse myself off, before grabbing the bar of soap. My body soaks up every bit of warmth the shower offers. It relaxes my muscles and allows me to breathe. For the moment the nausea has subsided and allowed me to truly enjoy the moment.
I run the bar of soap down my arms, my chest and then down to my stomach where I halt. With my free hand I bring it to my navel and place it there gently.
Since I learned the news I haven't actually had a moment to enjoy it. This is a happy moment. Or it should be. Perhaps it would be happier if I had the person with me who I am missing the most. The person who is the cause of what little joy I have. The person responsible for everything good that has happened to me since my rejection. And just for a moment, I allow myself to feel the grief of my loss. Samuel may not be dead, but he is missing from my life and that is as much loss as I can bear.
I have read in books and heard from conversation, that it is good to talk to your stomach when you are pregnant. It is good to let the baby hear your voice though I doubt it matters this early in the gestational stage. I can't help but feel myself wanting to do it.
I slide my hand across my belly and whisper three little words. "I love you."
I don't even know the baby, but somehow since learning about him or her, I have already formed an attachment. And the love has come quite easily after that.
A knock at the door brings me from my reverie. My head snaps immediately and my hand falls from my stomach in panic. It is as if I have just been caught doing something bad.
"Yes?" I call.
"Amelia sent something for your stomach. She said it would make you feel better," Logan answers.
I smile. Of course she did. If it weren't for Amelia, I don't know how I'd survive this.
"I'll be out in a minute," I tell him.
He doesn't reply so I quickly finish my shower and slip on my pyjamas. I don't bother searching for my hair dryer deciding to let my hair air dry by itself. I don't feel like putting that much effort into my appearance.
I gather my clothes off the floor and amble into the room where I find a tray of medicines, water and saltines waiting for me on the small, square table pushed up against the wall by the door.
Logan eyes me as soon as I enter the room. "You can put those over there," he says referring to my clothes. I follow his pointed finger to the hamper by the closet.
I place them inside and make my way over to the table that holds my remedy. Amelia has placed the things with great care in the space of the tray. It holds many things to get me through the night. She has thought of everything. There is even a little note stuck to the glass, handwritten by her.
Everything here you can take for your condition.
Amelia
Thankfully, she and I are the only ones who know what my condition means.
I pick up the glass and peel the note away before taking a sip of the water. It is slightly less than cool, but not quiet room temperature. I assume Amelia was going for subtle. A plate of saltines laid next to the glass along with a sleep aid and nausea cure.
She has already done more for me and Doreen than I can ever repay her. I just wish there is something I can do for her in return. Maybe one day I will. I take the medicine and carry the cracker and water to bed where Logan is sitting, reading a book. The thought of crawling in next to him repulses me, but I know I don't have any other choice in the matter. It is that or a fight that I'm sure won't slip unnoticed by the uncompromising Grog.
I vaguely glance at the book in Logan's hands as I sit on top of the covers. The Art of War. How fitting. It probably acted as his guide in waging war on the wolves and whoever else he ran across.
I turn away from it quickly and finish off my crackers. It is nice to have something on my stomach again. Hopefully, this time I will keep it down.
It is morning when my eyes flutter open. The light beams in between the long curtains on the far wall. I look around the room in confusion. I can't even remember falling asleep last night. That must have been some sleep aid I took.
The plate I had been holding somehow found its way to the bedside table and I am tucked warmly under the covers.
I didn't have anything to do with either of those things. I know who did though.
As the door to the bathroom opens so does my eyes. Logan is only in a towel wrapped around his waist, exposing his fully toned chest. It does nothing for me.
He stops when he catches me pulling myself up into the sitting position.
"You're up," he says cheerfully. "Good. I was hoping we could talk before we got our day started."
He proceeds into the room and stops at the closet to retrieve his clothes.
"About what?" Though I am sure I don't want to know. He seems more delighted to tell me t
han anything else. He slips a shirt over his head and turns to me with a smile. "Our mating."