I was in the middle of peeling potatoes last night when Solicitor arrived home from work. He normally loosens his tie and casually shrugs out of his jacket before walking about the house in search of me, so it was a bit of a surprise when he stalked into the kitchen, slamming the door open.
My hand slipped and I accidentally cut the palm of my hand with the knife.
"Hi honey, why don't you try that again. Maybe next time I'll sever my wrist." I sarcastically drawled. The cut was pretty minimal but it stung like hell.
"Sorry. I need to talk to you."
I silently held my bleeding hand under cold water. Whatever he had to say could wait a couple of minutes. I was still pretty angry with him for blowing up about the meeting in Riyadh.
"Yes, I'm coming! Give me a second to stop my hand from bleeding will you."
He stalked out of the kitchen. There was definitely something bothering him. I pressed a sheet of kitchen town into my hand and followed him into the living room.
"What's up?" I asked casually.
The cat chose that moment to spring up onto Solicitor's arm. Solicitor instinctively shook his arm free and sent the cat flying off.
"What the hell is wrong with the cat?!"
Oh yeah. I forgot.
"I haven't fed her."
"I can't open her tin of cat food without puking." I explained. It's such an odd feeling. As soon as I get a whiff of her food, my body seems to go into hyper rejection. "So what did you want to talk about?"
The cat trotted back to Solicitor and rubbed her face against his ankle. She moaned and yelped desperately.
The fire alarm suddenly shrilled loudly. Crap! The grill!
I ran towards the kitchen and pulled open the door. The smoke from the grill fogged the room in a haze and the smell hit me like a bullet. I turned and smacked straight into Solicitor.
"I'm going to be sick!" I moaned.
I knew I wouldn't make the bathroom so I turned and swiftly unlocked the back door. I ran towards across the patio and coughed into the flower bed. I felt so weak and tired and so damn pissed off that I couldn't control it.
Solicitor joined me a few minutes later with a cool wet towel. He pressed it against my forehead and I leaned back on him. So tried.
"I've thrown dinner out. I guess we'll be ordering in tonight." He kissed the top of my head. "You okay?"
He helped me back into the house and up to the bathroom. The nice thing about Solicitor is that he knows what to do to make me feel better. He always has. He switched the shower onto a cooler setting and left me alone.
An hour later, feeling much better, I found him sitting on the sofa watching television.
"What did you want to talk about?" I asked as I snuggled up to him.
The doorbell rang. I pulled my robe tightly around my body. Who could that-
"Pizza." Solicitor sprang up and reached for his wallet.
The smell of pepperoni made my stomach churn. Before Solicitor had even brought the boxes into the living room, I bolted up to the bathroom.
Isn't morning sickness supposed to be in the morning?!
I couldn't make it back downstairs. I cleaned my teeth for the thousandth time and crawled into bed. I pretty much fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Hours later I was woken by Solicitor slipping into bed beside me. I snuggled up to him.
"I'm sorry." I whispered. "What did you want to talk about?"
He kissed me head.
"It doesn't matter. Go to sleep and we'll talk tomorrow."
"Is it bad?" I asked, suddenly worried.
"No babe. It's not bad."
"Is it about Riyadh?" I asked hopefully.
"We'll talk tomorrow."
I wonder what it is. I've been bouncing about all day today. I've called him seven times and I've sent him a few emails (about fifteen). He's not letting on. Maybe he's found a cure for morning sickness! I would love him forever if he did.