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And that?
That I really fucking hate.
“I understand the Morgan merger is about beer but that’s global. I want us to look into local. Craft. I want the company to be willing to invest in businesses that we believe in that are right here in our own backyard so to speak,” Wes describes to someone on the other end of his phone. “That’s really the whole purpose of you walking the beer booths at the upcoming festival, J.T.”
“You have a hundred and eleven rooms in Wayne Manor,” I unhappily turn the page backward, “could you please take your convo elsewhere?”
“I’ll call you back.” The ending of his conversation is followed by a gentle touch to my stretched-out leg. “Hungry?”
“Why?” My stare momentarily moves to find his. “Do you wanna spoon feed me like a Gerber Baby?”
“That’s…an unsettling image.”
“This is an unsettling way to live.”
“Your future husband taking care of you is an unsettling way to live?”
“Holding your future wife hostage like Khan in Into Darkness most certainly fucking is.”
“Just like your mother wasn’t a prisoner while being taken care of neither are you.”
“Then why can’t I so much as wipe my own ass without someone from on the other side of the door waiting to offer me a towel when I’ve finished washing my hands?!”
Against his better judgment, Wes inquires, “Hormones?”
“Ohmygod, everything is not my hormones!”
Though this might be.
At least a little bit.
Defeat drops onto his shoulder propelling him up onto his feet. “What do you want to me do, Brynley? Pretend like nothing fucking happened? Like you didn’t suffer from a life altering injury?! Like you’re not carrying around our child?!”
“I want you to remember that I may be carrying your child, but I am not one!”
“I-”
“I can get my own bottle of water. I can drive myself to work. And I can damn sure decide if I’m up for reading or visitors or walking around a 4th of July festival!”
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you again! I don’t wanna lose you! I can’t lose you!”
“I get that, Wes.” An unexpected sigh shakes my short, yellow summer dress cloaked figure. “But if you don’t let me sit in my own chair on the deck versus your lap, we’re not gonna be able to pilot our ship much longer.”
The words send him sulking back onto the leather sofa closer to me.
“I appreciate how much you love me and wanna take care of me and the little superhero growing inside of me, but I kind of need to breathe some non-Wes infused air once in a while.”
It appears to pain him to hear the declaration; however, he nods in submission. “Understood.”
“Good.” Leaning slightly forward precedes me smirking. “Because I would like that right after you do something that takes my breath away.”
His eyes drop to where my bottom lip endures a bite.
“All the swelling in my ankle is completely gone.”
“It is.”
“Yet I don’t think I should push it.” I abandon the comic book on the nearby table and crawl into his sweatpants covered lap. “Meaning…” The winding of my arms around his neck allows for him to rest his hands on my hips. “I’m just gonna sit here and enjoy the ride, Weston.”
