"Let me take that," Luke says, rushing over to take the cloth from me.
I get off of my toes and watch as he easily extends his arm up to the shelf I was trying to reach, swiping off the dust.
"You should be careful," he warns me.
"Of what? Dust?" I ask.
"You're pregnant. Who knows? You could trip or something."
"Just cause I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm not perfectly capable of doing things myself," I argue, trying to snatch back the cloth. Luke holds it up high so I can't reach.
"That's true, but you're also pretty clumsy," Olivia admits, taking a bite of her pain au chocolat.
"Yeah. I wouldn't trust you to clean that shelf even when you weren't pregnant," Evelyn adds.
"It must be nice to live like you," Ally sighs, jiggling a plastic ring of toys in front of tiny Bentley as she sips on her ice coffee.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"You've got Vincent, who does all your house chores. Luke is a barista, baker, and cashier at your shop. Plus, you've got a multi-millionaire actor friend, who I'm sure is in love with you. To top it all off, you've got amazing friends to eat your leftover cookies," Ally winks.
"Grayson's in love with you?" Olivia asks, slightly spraying flakes of pain au chocolat onto the table. Luke groans and goes over to wipe it.
"He is. I can tell," Ally adamantly nods.
"No, he-" I begin to argue, but Evelyn beats me to the punch.
"No, he's dating that one actress. The one he's with in that new movie," Evelyn brings up.
"Oh! What's her name again?" Olivia ponders.
"Isn't she super young though? Like fresh out of high school young?" Evelyn raises a brow.
"Really?" I ask in surprise.
"Why are you surprised? He didn't tell you?" Evelyn asks.
"I mean, he doesn't have to tell me everything going on," I reply, trying to recall if Greg ever mentioned his new girlfriend.
"It doesn't matter because he's in love with Wendy. I know it," Ally insists.
"You guys are making Wendy uncomfortable," Luke sighs as he glances over at me shifting in my seat.
Bentley starts whining and squeezing his fists together.
"Oh, he's hungry," Ally tells us, reaching into her bag. She pulls out a bottle of her milk and hands it to Luke. "Can you warm it up in the microwave. Just a bit. Not too hot."
"How long should I put it in?" he asks, holding the bottle in confusion.
"Until its warm to the touch. Just spray some on your finger-"
"No, gross. I'm not touching your boob juice."
"Damn it, Luke. He's gonna start crying," Ally glares, picking Bentley up and rocking him in her arms.
"Don't you guys have jobs or something? Why are you always here?" Luke rolls his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen.
"What's up with him? Is his delayed teen angst finally kicking in?" Evelyn ponders, sipping her cappuccino.
"He's probably uptight because he's always working," Ally suggests.
"Doesn't he ever take a day off?" Olivia asks.
"I try to tell him to take a couple of weekdays off, but he refuses," I frown. "His only days off are holidays when I close the shop."
"He's probably distracting himself with work," Evelyn concludes.
"Distract himself from what? Is he heartbroken or something?" Olivia laughs jokingly but ceases when she sees my eyes widen.
Luke comes out of the kitchen and we all turn to stare at him but say nothing. He looks weirded out for a few seconds, but ultimately decides to ignore our gazes.
"Is this warm enough?" he asks Ally, holding out the milk bottle for her.
"Here, take him," Ally instructs.
Ally hands over Bentley to Luke and tests the milk on her finger. After she confirms it's the right temperature, instead of taking Bentley back, Luke holds out his hand—a silent offer to feed him for Ally.
"Thanks," Ally says in surprise as Luke carefully offers the bottle to Bentley and goes to sit down in a nearby chair.
"It's getting pretty late. How come Vincent hasn't come to pick you up yet?" Olivia asks, getting up to scour for another pastry.
"Oh, he's been working overtime these days, even on weekends. Apparently his lab is super busy with a big project," I explain.
"Wait, what?" Evelyn looks up in surprise. "What kind of an excuse is that?"
"Please don't say something stupid," Olivia sighs.
"Okay, fine," Evelyn sinks back into her seat before propping her arms on the table a second later. "I'm just gonna say this: don't you find it a little suspicious?"
"Why would I be suspicious?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"Babe, shut up please," Olivia warns.
"An affair-" Evelyn tries to whisper before Olivia shoves a shortbread cookie into her mouth.
Ally bursts into laughter, saying as she mellows out again, "Are you kidding me? We're talking about Vincent, right? The man who literally worships Wendy like some goddess?"
"Working overtime all of a sudden is the first clue to an affair," Evelyn insists after chewing the cookie.
"Yeah, and what else?" Ally asks, entertaining what she probably thinks is ludicrous.
"Second, is coming home sweaty. If he's doing the dirty, he's going to sweat. Lastly, any stains or scents on his clothes. If it's not your lipstick or your perfume, it's another woman's," Evelyn shrugs.
"That is the dumbest thing you've ever said," Ally laughs. "Did you get those tips out of some movie?"
"It's logic," Evelyn glares at Ally with a bit of annoyance. "Let's be real. Knowing Wendy, she's probably not doing it while she's pregnant—"
"Vincent held out for years. I'm sure he can wait out nine months," Ally argues.
"Vincent's not cheating on Wendy," Luke interrupts them but keeps his eyes on Bentley. "You're going to make her overthink things like she did back then."
"I won't overthink it," I argue.
Of course, I end up overthinking it. There is no way Vincent is cheating on me, but there is definitely something he was hiding from me.
After coming home, eating dinner, and taking a quick shower, I force myself to sit upright on the couch, so that I don't fall asleep, and wait for Vincent to come home. If I let myself overthink, I'll be reverting back to the times when I was insecure and anxious, and I couldn't let that happen. It's better just to ask him directly when he goes home.
I didn't even realized how much time passed until the door knob clicked and the door squeaked open. Forcing my crusted eyes open, I try to read the blurry numbers on the living room clock: 11 PM.
"What are you doing on the couch?" Vincent asks, concerned, as he shuts the door behind him.
I raise my head up, my right cheek feeling as if it's been glued to the palm of my hand. My elbow and arm are numb from being propped on the couch.
"Why aren't you in bed?" Vincent asks me again, setting his book bag on the carpet and resting it on the side of the couch. I only groan groggily in response.
Vincent sinks on the couch and my body naturally leans to the side. He lowers his shoulder to accommodate my head. My nose catches a smell of Vincent, which makes my stomach rumble but turn at the same time. It's a mix between grilled meat and sweat, masked by Vincent's minty body spray.
He better not have eaten burgers without me.
"You smell weird," I softly tell him.
"Sorry, I'm a bit sweaty."
"You didn't sweat this much before."
"Yeah, it's weird," Vincent agrees halfheartedly before changing the subject. "You shouldn't sleep on the couch, or you might press on your belly."
"I forgot, sorry. You know I'm a sucker for naps."
"Let's get you to bed," he smiles, placing a kiss on my cheek before leading my half-asleep body to the bedroom. He makes sure I lay in the optimal position on my left side before laying the blanket over me and starting a lullaby on his phone for the baby.
"Night," he says, kissing me again but on the lips this time.
I feel my heavy eyes flutter down. But before I can fall asleep again, the sound of the water rushing out of the shower head wakes up my bladder. Careful to not hurt my belly, I inch off the bed and waddle my way to the bathroom. Vincent's head whips around as the door swings open.
"What's up?" he asks from behind the foggy, glass shower door.
"I need to pee," I say. "The other bathroom's too far."
Vincent chuckles as I plop myself on the porcelain throne and relieve myself.
"You're so cute when you pee half asleep."
"Pervert."
"You're the one who walked in here."
My head droops down and I stare at the bathroom tiles. As I survey the floor in boredom, a red splotch on Vincent's white button up catches my eye. I rub my eyes to wipe away the blurriness before looking back down. Looking closer, there's a large, light pink area that looks like Vincent tried rubbing the color out with water but ended up staining his shirt with it.
"What happened to your shirt?" I ask, ripping off a section of toilet paper.
"I spilled a drink on it. I'll bleach it on the weekend," he answers, reaching out his arm to get the bath towel.
"I can bleach it-"
"No, are you crazy? You can't be smelling those fumes," he protests.
Vincent steps out with the towel wrapped around his waist and shakes his hair dry like a dog. I lean back to dodge the flying specks of water. I slip past him to get to the sink as wash my hands as he begins to brush his teeth. After drying my hands off, I lean back against the door and cross my arms, releasing a loud sigh for him to hear.
"What's wrong?" he asks, right on cue. He dangles his toothbrush from his mouth as he slips into his boxers.
"Why are you working so late?" I ask.
He rushes to continue brushing his teeth, vigorously, as he buys more time. After he spits out a mouthful of toothpaste foam, he takes more time to swish water.
"Vincent Miller," I warn.
He nearly chokes on the water.
"What? he asks, pretending to be confused.
"Why are you working so much overtime?"
"It's an urgent project."
"Why? What's it for?"
"I can't say. It's confidential."
"And what are you doing wearing a button up to work? You always put a lab coat over your t-shirt anyways."
"I wanted to look cute today," Vincent jokes.
"Fine, whatever you say," I frown, turning around to open the door but Vincent places his hand over the door knob first.
"I don't know what you're worried about, but I would never do anything to make you unhappy," he smiles, pulling me by the waist into his chest.
"I know. I'm just worried you're unhappy," I tell him, pressing the side of my face against him.
"I'm never unhappy if you're happy."
"Gosh, you and your words again," I shake my head, trying to hide my emerging grin.
"Bedtime," Vincent yawns, opening the door for the two of us to finally go to sleep.
Despite the next day being on a weekend, Vincent left early in the morning, only leaving a note by the plate of breakfast he left for me, saying an emergency came up at work. Because of my odd detection of the scent of meat the previous night, I figured it was just my pregnancy cravings telling me today was the day to eat some steak. At lunchtime, I give my dad a quick call and we decide to meet up at the steakhouse that just opened a few months ago.
By the time I get there, my dad gives me a call. Of course, he's usually fashionably late.
"Hi, sweetie. I'm going to be there in a bit. I forgot to put my clothes in the dryer, so all of my socks are wet."
"Dad, I told you to do laundry every week."
He's still learning to adjust to living alone with Wren at college.
"I was really busy this week. Anyways, I'll be there in ten minutes. Just order whatever."
"But—"
"Love you!" he quickly says before ending the call.
Because it is freezing cold outside, sitting outside in the car to wait isn't an option. Sullen, I bring myself to go inside and prepare to wait for a long wait, knowing our old dryer isn't efficient enough to dry even a single pair of socks in ten minutes.
"Can I get you started with anything to drink?" the waitress asks after seating me.
"Water's fine, thank you," I answer.
"I'll be right back with your water," she smiles, placing the menu on the table.
Let's see what we have here... The filet looks good. Oh, should I get the salmon? Vincent is always telling me I need plenty of omega 3. I should probably get a side of steamed vegetables too...but fries sound so good!
As my eyes scan the lists of enticing foods, I catch a tall figure standing beside a table far in front of me, beside the windows. His wide shoulders and dark hair are familiar. The young women he is serving are resting their arms on the table, leaning forward as he spoke to them and filled their glasses of wine. They tuck their hair back as they laugh. As he turns to tend to the nearby table, my hands fly up to cover my face with the menu. I suck in a breath, blinking at the table. Cautiously, I peek up to confirm the waiter's identity.
It's him...
"Are you ready to order?" the waitress asks she places down my glass of water, a warm basket of bread, and a dish of butter.
"Oh, um..." I debate lowering the menu as to not look suspicious but it's impossible with him now facing my direction, though he's still at a distance.
"Are you alright?" she asks, puzzled that I've shrank back behind the propped up menu.
"That waiter...um..." I begin to ask, pointing in his direction.
"Yes?" she waits for my question.
"How long has he been working here?"
"Oh, about a few weeks after we opened. He's pretty popular with our customers," she smiles, leaning down. "Between you and me, he's probably why this place is so busy."
"Oh..."
"You can't even count many receipts we get with phone numbers on them," she chuckles. "It's too bad he's already married though."
"Really?" I weakly grin.
"Unfortunately, I can't move you his section."
"No, it's fine. Actually, something's come up. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience," I apologize, handing her a tip before walking a circle around the restaurant to avoid him.
I feel my heart grow heavier as I walk, my eyes and head getting hot. As I rush to leave, the door nearly hits my dad in the face as he's about to come inside.
"Woah, sweetie. What's the rush?" he asks holding the door open for me.
"Let's go somewhere else," I tell him, trying to breathe evenly again.
"Why? Is it a long wait?"
"Yeah, they're pretty busy."
"Really?" he turns his head to look behind me into the inside of the restaurant. I quickly move my head to block his view.
"I feel like eating noodle soup since it's cold today."
"Ah, sound good," he agrees.
As we walk to the parking lot, I hear a squishing noise.
"What's wrong with your shoes?" I ask him.
"Oh, the sock took too long to dry, so I just put them on anyways."
"Isn't it better just to not wear socks then?"
"It feels strange."
"And wet socks don't?"
"Don't question my choices," he chuckles.
So, I went on with the rest of the day, suppressing who I had just seen into the back of my mind, at least as far back as I could. However, once I was home alone, the emotional fatigue hit, After quickly changing, I fell back against the couch, legs and arms limp and head leaned back on the cushion. I could feel the hot tears start to well up, but I kept my head tilted back, letting the salty liquid pool at the surface of my eyes. The more I tried to reabsorb the tears, the more it seemed to flood back.
Suddenly, I hear the door knob click and the door creak slowly open. The soft shuffling against the carpet slowly approach, and I'm so still I can almost feel the earth bend underneath each footstep.
Vincent's face hovers over mine, and his eyes widen.
"You're awake?" he asks with a grin starting to form, but it falls flat. "What's wrong?"
My throat and tongue are dry, but my eyes are wet, too wet. The tears overfill and leak out from the creases from the edges of my eyes.
"Wendy, what's wrong? Did something happen?" Vincent asks again, placing his hand on my cheek.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, my voice shaky.
"What?"
"That you had another job."
Vincent's hand drops and he hangs his head.
"Do you know how worried I was?" I begin to sob.
"I'm sorry," Vincent chokes, stepping forward to let my face bury into my shirt, his arms wrapping around my head, his hand stroking my hair.
I smell the scent of wine and steak on his button up, which makes my chest fall heavier. Bunching his shirt into my fists, I sob hard until my eyes were dry with nothing left to cry out. I slowly pull away and Vincent purses his lips as he looks down at me.
"I'm sorry I made you cry again," he apologizes.
"Why are you sorry? I'm the one who's sorry," I reply in between hiccups.
"Why are you sorry?" Vincent's brows knit together.
"Because you feel the need to work so hard. Meanwhile, I just lounge around the bakery—"
"And don't you dare do anything else. You're pregnant and you need to be taking care of yourself and our daughter."
"You should've just told me if we were short on money. You could've stopped buying all the organic produce and fancy supplements."
"No way! Our baby needs it. Besides, we're not short."
"Then why are you working a second job?"
"Because...because..." Vincent sighs and kneels beside the t.v. stand, reaching his hand behind it. He takes out a manila envelope and hands it to me, his face red as he looks off to the side.
I pinch the metal clasp and lift the flap up and slide the papers out onto my lap. My eyes immediately are caught my the packet with a printed picture of a house on the first page.
"What's this?" I ask.
"I was thinking that maybe...it could be our new home..." Vincent softly smiles.
I look up breathless at him, unable to say anything.
"I did a lot of research on it. I've calculated how long it'll take use to pay it off, and how much utilities in the area are. Plus, the schools in that area are very good. It's a really safe community too. It's pretty close to out parent's places and work too, so commuting won't be too costly. Oh and—"
I pull Vincent by the waist towards me and look up at him with teary eyes. With a single tug of his shirt, Vincent immediately lowers himself towards me. I pull the collar of his shirt and move my face closer to his as he closes his eyes. Then, placing a kiss on his chin, I lean back on the couch.
"What? That's all I get?" Vincent asks, disappointed.
"It's your punishment for lying."
"Oh," he frowns.
I take his hands and hold them tightly in mine.
"I don't know how you can break my heart and make me fall in love again at the same time," I murmur, voice about to break again. "Please don't overwork yourself. It hurts me to see you so tired."
"It's only temporary" Vincent insists, sitting down beside me and unbuttoning his sleeves.
"Fine, so promise me you'll quit."
"I'll quit after I have enough for the house down-payment."
"Fine," I give in, knowing Vincent would be stubborn.
"Plus the customers there tip really well for some reason."
"Trust me, there's a reason," I sigh, a bit jealous women still flock to him.
"How'd you find out I had a second job anyways? Did you see me?"
"You smell like steak," I tell him as a distraction, helping with the front buttons of his shirt.
"Is that a compliment?"
"Not sure how I feel about yet."
As I finish undoing the last button, Vincent turns around and holds his arms down so I can peel the sticky shirt off of him. He swings his arms to feel the air flow against his skin before leaning back on the couch.
"Are you hungry?" I ask.
"No, I ate before I came home."
"Well, you stink, so go take a shower."
I try to push myself off the couch, but Vincent stands up and hovers over me, trapping me between his outstretched arms. His hair flops over his forehead, damp with sweat. His shoulders flex from holding up his weight.
"What?" I ask, somehow feeling shy from his gaze.
His eyebrows furrow and he bites his lip.
"What?" I ask again, getting nervous.
"Are you wearing a bra?"
"What!" I gasp, bringing my arms up to my chest. Looking up, I see that he's still leaning in close. "Why are you looking at them?"
"Nothing I haven't seen before," he shrugs. "They seem bigger too. Probably because of the increased blood flow-"
"Don't get an sci-ency with me as an excuse."
"Fine, I thought you looked sexy-"
"Shh! Not in front of our daughter," I glare, covering his month with my hand.
Vincent grins as he moves my palm from his mouth before kneeling on the carpet. His crosses his arms and rests them on my knees, leaning his head forwards towards my stomach.
"Sorry," he chuckles. "But I would appreciate it if you come out on time, because Daddy needs alone time with Mommy."
"I don't think we're going to get sleep, let alone 'alone time', with a baby," I grin.
"That's why I'm asking her nicely now."
"Well, even if she's cooperative, doesn't mean I'm on board," I tease.
"You aren't?" Vincent raises a brow as he stands up, holds my shoulders, and pressed my back against the couch. He flirtatiously presses our foreheads together, but hover his lips over mine, barely brushing against them. He's about to go in for a kiss when my face twists in shock.
"Vincent!" I gasp, gripping his shoulder.
"Did I hurt you?" he straightens himself before feeling around my stomach for signs of pain.
"No, but..."
"I'm sorry, Wendy. I should've been more careful-"
I grab Vincent's hand and stop his examination. He looks at me, confused and nervous, as I lift up my shirt and place his hands on my bare belly. Directing one of his hand, I press down on it with a bit of pressure and wait patiently. Looking up at Vincent, I see his knitted brows relax and face light up, knowing he feels it too.
"That's out daughter," he laughs breathlessly. "She's moving."
"Yeah," I beam.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not yet, but I'm sure she'll kick harder another day."
"She's strong like her Mommy," Vincent compliments, not taking his eyes off my stomach.
"You look so happy."
"I'm more than happy," Vincent enthusiastically replies. "She stopped kicking I think. Must've gotten tired."
"You're probably tired too."
"Nope, not anymore. I feel energized now, " Vincent insists.
I can't help but smile, seeing how he's still crouched down, staring at my belly in anticipation that the baby will start kicking again.
"It's late. You still have to shower before bed."
"Do I have to?" Vincent whines.
I nod.
"Fine," he sighs before reaching his arms out to pull me off the couch.
Before heading to the bathroom for a shower, he makes sure to put me in the optimal sleep position, tuck me under the blankets, and play a lullaby on his phone for our daughter to listen to. He begins to walk away when he rushes back and flips the blanket off of me and slides my shirt off my stomach, placing kisses on it in a circle. Pleased, he tucks me in again.
He's about to step foot into the bathroom when he rushes back to the bed.
"Again?" I laugh.
"Nope, forgot my other special lady," he grins, bending down to kiss me. "Alright, night."
"Hurry to bed soon," I tell him, yawning.
"Night you two," he whispers before slipping away.
*****
I know it's a weekday, but I would feel so bad if I had to delay this update any longer. Tried my best to make this one a really long chapter to make up for the slow update :) Hope you guys liked it! I better go to sleep now cause I still have school tomorrow :p