We Should Talk

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Requested: the big talk after the drunk Taylor fight. May want to reread chapters 95 and 96 :) or at least just 96 but not necessary.

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Taylor helped Grace settle into the large bathtub and propped a soft towel behind her head, "You comfy enough?"

Grace nodded, "You really don't have to do this. It's icky."

Taylor chuckled and shook her head, "Baby, we're past icky. I've had my tongue in your vagina, don't you think I can help you shave your legs since you can't reach over your belly?"

"I guess," the heiress sighed, "Thank you, Taylor— for this, and finally doing the nursery. That really made me a lot less stressed out."

"I should've done it a long time ago," Taylor put some gel on her hands and rubbed them together before applying it to Grace's leg, "I'm sorry that I stressed you out, y'know? I kept saying I'd get around to it and I guess I just pushed it off for too long. I'll get better about that, no more procrastinating on big things like that, especially when they affect you."

Grace sneezed before she could respond, wincing at how much it moved her body and made her slightly uncomfortable.

Taylor rinsed her hands off at the sink and grabbed a tissue, "Blow."

She was literally holding it up to her wife's nose, and Grace did not look amused, "I am not a toddler."

"Your hands are wet, just do it," Taylor replied, "Again, we're past icky. You're sick, pregnant and grumpy with me, I'll do whatever it takes to fix this."

"I'm not blowing my nose into a tissue in your hand," the heiress' voice was nasally before she sneezed again.

Taylor gave her a pleading look, one that normally made Grace give in. It was the most disgusting thing Grace had ever done, (besides the bleacher incident) and she swore she'd never do it again.

"So I know you said we needed to have a big talk," Taylor hummed, not looking at Grace's face, "You wanna do that now?"

"Are we going to argue?" Grace asked hesitantly, "If we are, can we pretend to be civil until I'm not sick? I don't have the energy to make good comebacks today."

"No, I can be nice and stay calm. Be warned," Taylor held the razor up with a cheesy smile, "I have a kinda knife."

Grace chuckled softly as she ran her hands over her large stomach, "This is so gross. I absolutely hate this."

"I really don't mind," Taylor shrugged, going back to work, "If you don't like it, I can just keep you company and stop."

"I don't want Sasquatch legs but I'm extremely embarrassed about you shaving them for me," the heiress grumbled.

"Like I said, we'd definitely past this being awkward. A lot of partners shave the other's legs when they're pregnant, it's not uncommon, baby."

"Okay, anyways," Grace changed the topic to try and avoid a feverish blush on her pale face, "Talk, yes."

Taylor nodded and was quiet for a minute, finally starting with the thing that was bothering her the most, "You- um... you were worried I was cheating on you while I was gone?"

"I didn't mean that," Grace said softly, "I was just upset, I know you wouldn't do that. I guess I just figured you needed an escape from everything, when you drink like that, it makes me nervous."

"I don't try and heal my wounds with alcohol anymore, I really don't want to make you nervous. I really only drink with you, and we're responsible about it. I've had one night of drinking since you got pregnant, and it was at that party. I'm sorry I got carried away, my love. I wasn't trying to escape from you, our family or our life. I was at a party, and I fucked up but I didn't mean to hurt you."

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