Lucille✔️ (Kindle version)

Problems with work and other issues

Lucille

Work at the salon is going well. I built an excellent regular clientele. Except I got the chore of dealing with a specific client. No one desired to attend to the client.

A guy named Adam became a regular at the salon. He's creepy and makes the girls uncomfortable. The owner asked if I would deal with him because I'm bat shit crazy. I agreed, which is the wrong choice.

Did you ever get a gut reaction to someone? Yep, my stomach screamed at me.

I dealt with him as best as I could. He would make inappropriate comments to me every chance he got. He would mention things I didn't like. Like how he would have me bent over the counter. I told him to knock his shit off.

I didn't care if I got fired. I refused to have someone talk to me that way. I'm a married woman.

I also had Gray bring me to and from work. This tool made me uncomfortable in every sense of the word. I also didn't want to tell Gray because I knew his temper. I saw it firsthand.

If I told Gray, the twit wouldn't be breathing. I didn't need him in jail and introduced my jailbird husband to people.

As the months passed, I dealt with the schmuck. My husband would pick me up from work.

Springtime brought me bronchitis. The last week of March, we had nasty weather.

I got a cold, turning into bronchitis. The last time, I got pneumonia. We had worked at the store.

Grayson worried about me and took me to the doctor's even though I told him I was okay. I'm stubborn, but I couldn't help it. It turned out that I was on the verge of having pneumonia.

The doctor prescribed me antibiotics and rest to help me. I missed a week of work. Grayson took me home. Once I retired to bed, he picked up my prescription and chicken soup and juice.

I called my boss and told her what had happened. She said to get better, and she'll see me when I return. I wanted to sleep. I curled up under the blankets and fell asleep.

*****

Grayson

I waited for the pharmacy to fill Luci's prescription, picking up items to make her better. It reminded me of the last time she had been sick. I phoned Dad and told him what had happened. He told me to take care of her. Family comes first.

Once her prescription was ready, I paid for it and other items. I grabbed the bags and went home. I opened the door, calling out for her, but she didn't answer.

I set the bags down and checked on her. I found her asleep in bed and sighed. At least she's sleeping.

She woke up after two hours, and I brought soup and medicine to her. When she finished, I took the tray back into the kitchen. I returned to the bedroom and stayed with her.

She snuggled into me. I almost threw our relationship away because I let my temper get the best of me. It's a mistake that I won't ever make again.

The following week, I took care of her at home, ensuring she took her medication. She also started getting better. Thank God. I hated to see her sick.

My birthday rolled around, and we had a quiet night at home. We figured after she got better, we would celebrate. Amidst it, we had one hell of a night. Yep, Luci's doing better, and we made passionate love.

Usually, we don't go days without sex, but I would rather have her get better than stay sick.

She finished her antibiotics and was back to old herself. I sure missed her crazy self. She returned to work while home, and work returned to normal. Although, life wouldn't stay that way.

*****

Lucille

It had been a month since I had been sick. One day at work, I became ill. I was working on a client's hair when a wave of nausea washed over me. The hair salon smell hit me, and I ran to the bathroom as two girls yelled for me.

I kneeled in front of the toilet and heaved. Oh, God. Please don't tell me I have a stomach bug. Once I finished, I flushed the toilet and got to my feet. I walked over to the sink and washed my mouth out with water.

I returned to my client, but the salon spun. One of the other girls took over, and my boss sent me home. Thinking I had the flu, she didn't want anyone else to catch it.

I called Grayson, and he left work to pick me up. We drove home, and I wanted to heave. Ugh. Once we got back, I ran to the bathroom. When I finished, I crawled to bed. Will someone shoot me?

After several weeks, Grayson dragged me back to the doctor. Great. I sat on the exam table, feeling dead. Grayson's in the waiting room.

The doctor came in, and we talked. The doctor said I'm in excellent health. I told her to shove it because I felt horrible. She drew blood from me and examined me.

She ran a few tests, then returned with the results.

"Well, Lucille, you don't have the flu," the doctor said.

"Then I'm dying."

She laughed.

"Only if you consider a baby dying."

"Wait. What?"

"Lucille, you're six weeks pregnant."

My face dropped, and I looked at her, confused.

"That's absurd. I'm on the pill."

She flipped through my chart.

"You took antibiotics for bronchitis, right?"

"Yeah."

I furrowed my brows.

"Antibiotics make birth control weaker. Have you had sexual intercourse at any point while you took them?"

I thought about it. Grayson and I had sex on his birthday. I sat there as my face fell because this wasn't the plan. We wanted to wait until after our first anniversary.

"Let me get your husband."

She left the room as I sat on the examining table and took a deep breath. Grayson walked into the room and over to me.

"Luci?"

I looked at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Gray, I'm pregnant."

He looked at me as I looked at him. I waited for him to say something.

"I guess a family is happening sooner than expected, isn't it?"

I looked at him as he smiled.

"You're okay with this?"

"More than you realize, baby."

He smiled as I started crying. I wrapped my arms around him as he held me. I didn't cry because the pregnancy upset me. I cried because it was a shock, but I wanted this baby. The baby is a part of Gray and me.

I didn't realize how I would feel until a baby became possible.

He placed his hand on my stomach as I looked at him.

"Our baby," he said.

"Our baby."

Something told me the craziness was starting with us. We would find out quickly how crazy.