𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄

[𝟑𝟓] 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

We have to pull over almost three times because I'm so sick to my stomach on our way to bio mommy's place.

I wholeheartedly believed I was doing alright but when dad turned down the music and he and Sam stopped bickering, the anxiety finally set in.

It was like fire to my mood, burning every good feeling to a crisp until the only traces left behind were the piles and piles of ash.

Or in this case, the little puddle of puke on the side of the road.

How was I supposed to know that I was going to let my insides find their escape via my mouth?

Sam holds my hair back as his thumb rubs slow circles against the exposed skin between my shirt and bottoms. He doesn't even so much as grimace in disgust, he simply comforts me.

"You know," I cough, hands on my knees as I pant, at a loss for breath. "This is how it's gonna be when we have kids. I know for a fact I'd be the kind of pregnant lady that couldn't go twenty minutes in a car without-"

Yum. More vomit.

Coughing again, I finish my sentence. "-puking."

He pulls the hair tie from my wrists and ties up my hair, laughing at my state. Spinning me around to face him, he dabs at my lips with a Subway napkin my dad had in the truck.

"When we have kids, huh?" he muses, grinning like the absolute moron he is.

I scoff, "Okay, well, since you're the one with a uterus, then when you have kids."

He presses a kiss to my lips and I lightly pull away.

"No, stop, I have puke lips." Despite my protest, he leans back down to kiss me, pulling away with the same dumb smile as before on his face.

"It's okay. I love you and your puke lips."

I gag in disgust, shoving him again, "You're nasty. You're gonna smell like my breakfast."

He smirks as he helps me back into the truck. Why the fuck is this car so far off the ground? He lowers his lips to my ear as he buckles me up.

"I was your breakfast," he whispers huskily, slyly biting at my earlobe. Snapping my neck in his direction, I shove him and close the door.

ABORT MISSION. I REPEAT, ABORT MISSION.

NO, SEE, GRACE? THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE BRING UP CHILDREN. IT LEADS TO SHIT LIKE THIS.

This is why nobody likes children. Because even when they don't exist, they fuck shit up.

I now have to leave the country. There's nothing left for me here except for embarrassment and a dick I no longer want or love.

"What'd he say?" Dad asks, bringing me back to reality.

"Nothing. I'm just thinking about how I'm going to brutally murder him."

"You and me both."

❛❜

Sam raises his fist to the door as I stand beside him, holding his arm to my chest as I shake like a fallen leaf. When his fist drops at his side, he wraps his arms around my waist and I do the same, kissing his shirt-clad chest.

"It's okay, Gracie. She'll love you," my dad assures me.

"Yeah, what he said." Sam nods in agreement, rubbing my back. I smile up at him, my eyes scanning his familiar features.

I wonder what our kids would look like if we did have any together. I hope they have his eyes. They're so pretty. Hell, even I want his eyes.

"Nobody asked you, Samuel," dad rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.