Something Borrowed

Chapter 23

*** Hello! Short chapter this week. Busy weekend, and a busier week ahead. If only real life didn't intrude into our hobbies, amiright? Thank you so, so very much to anyone who is still reading at this point. I am not very good at writing concise stories so it baffles me when people are patient enough to bear with me, lol. I love you all and I'm deeply appreciative of the time you've taken to read what I write. I am SO bad at responding to comments, but I read (and re-read) all of them and use the parts you respond to to drive the path of the story as I write it. Your efforts are not unappreciated, so thank you. Earnestly. Cheers! Liz***

Amelia

The cold made Amelia's muscles tremble as she hurried up the stairs, carefully balancing the tray with its pot of tea and two ceramic cups. The lid of the tea-pot clattered gently with her shivering. The house had grown terribly cold since they'd banked the fires and withdrawn to their rooms. Was it always so cold at night? Her toes were going numb, and goosebumps prickled uncomfortably along her arms and legs beneath the fabric of her robe. She nudged her bedroom door open, grateful for the wash or warmth that came from within.

"Josh, I have--" she stopped dead in the doorway, staring at the empty bed. Lowering her gaze, she saw her husband's familiar bulk, huddled under a blanket in his customary spot beside the bed. She could see him shivering, but he had the blankets pulled up so they covered his face and he didn't respond to her arrival.

Perhaps he had fallen asleep.

Foolish, idiotic man.

Tip-toeing, she carried the tray to the dresser and set it down, studying the steam that rose from the spout of the pot. He really ought to drink something hot, and she needed to ask what had kept him out so late. Well, that wasn't explicitly honest. She didn't need to ask. That conversation could wait until he'd rested, she just didn't want to let it. She wanted to hear his voice and perhaps say something to make him laugh. Brent had laughed so easily, and the sound had made her belly tickle with giddy love. Josh wasn't near so ready with his conservative brand of joy, so when she made him chuckle or snort at something she said, her whole body turned warm and proud-- so proud, she felt she could close her eyes and lift off the ground and float with the clouds.

Slightly off-balance with her rounded belly, she crouched at his side and reached out a hand to shake him awake. Her hand stilled in the air just above his shoulder. Her own eyes were gritty with exhaustion, and she hadn't spent the last three nights gallivanting around the snow-swept countryside. Sleep was probably more important to him, right now, than tea and conversation.

She went to rise, but her knees refused to straighten as indecision wracked her-- mind, body, and soul. A draft of chilly air wound around her ankles, making her prickled skin tighten even more, and a shiver of cold raced down her spine. She shuddered and, without wasting any more time in an argument with herself, reached out and grasped her husband's shoulder.

"Josh," she murmured, shaking him gently. "Wake up."

The blankets lowered and his eyes found hers in the darkness-- glistening dully in the firelight. "You okay?" he asked grittily, and she realized she was gripping her own arms, shivering in the cold.

"Get into bed," she said, tipping her chin toward the mattress behind him. "It's too cold down here. You won't warm up."

"It's fine," he grumbled, pulling the blankets back up, his body shuddering beneath them.

Amelia gnawed on her lip, glaring at the mussed blankets of the empty bed before turning her glare back down to her husband. She shook his shoulder again. "Josh, please?" she asked, an idea sparking in her mind as her own shivers became more intense. She unclenched her jaw and let her teeth chatter audibly. "It's so cold. I can't get warm. I was hoping if we shared the blankets it'd be a little warmer."