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"Didn't mean to," she replied, drying her hands on the towel hanging over the sink. She walked over to me, her eyes twinkling. "And don't pretend you didn't hear me, young lady."
I laughed, turning and leaning against the island behind me.
"I like him, Mom," I whispered, afraid of someone listening in.
"He's a good man Becca, but he's older than you and he has a kid," mom reminded me.
"I know all that, but as you said, he's a good man," I said, looking down at my hands.
"Does he make you happy?" Mom asked, gazing intently at me.
I smiled, thinking about Hunter and all the moments we had shared together. "Yes, he does," I said, looking back up at her.
"Well, that's all that matters then, isn't it?" she said, giving my hand a squeeze. "Just make sure you know what you're getting into, Becca. Being with a man who has a child is not easy."
"I know, Mom," I replied, nodding my head. "But I'm willing to try. Hunter and Mark are important to me."
Mom smiled, nodding her head. "I can see that. Just remember to take things slow and think things through. You don't want to rush into anything and regret it later."
"I won't, Mom," I said, grateful for her advice. "Thanks for looking out for me."
"Always, honey," she said, giving me another hug before walking back to the dining room.
I stayed in the kitchen for a while longer, lost in thought. It was true, Hunter was older and had a kid, but I couldn't deny the way he made me feel. And Mark was adorable and had already stolen my heart. Maybe things could work out between us after all.
Feeling more optimistic, I headed back to the table to join the rest of the family for dessert. As we ate the delicious dessert, I couldn't help stealing glances at Hunter. He caught my eye and gave me a small smile, and I felt my heart flutter. Maybe there was hope for us yet.
A Pregnancy Story
I woke up slowly, my eyes still closed as I relished the warmth of my bed. Turning onto my back, the cool sheets slid against my skin. I took a deep breath, the scent of my skin mingling with the fresh morning air.
As I opened my eyes, I blinked away the remnants of sleep and took in the familiar surroundings of my bedroom. The sun peeked through the window blinds, casting a warm glow on the walls.
I sat up, stretching my arms above my head and letting out a contented sigh. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, feeling the carpet beneath my feet. I walked to the window, drawing back the curtains to let in more light.
As I stood at the window, I caught a whiff of something delicious coming from the kitchen. My stomach rumbled in response, and I smiled to myself, knowing that my mom must be up and preparing breakfast. The woman just couldn't stop.
I made my way to the bedroom door and paused for a moment, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen. I heard the clink of dishes and the sizzle of something frying on the stove.
Eager to see what Mother had cooked, I headed towards the kitchen, following the tantalizing aroma of food. When I entered the kitchen, I saw Mom at the stove, flipping pancakes in a pan. I knew they would be good, everything I knew about cooking I had learned from mom, that, and the culinary school I attended. But I had learned the basics from Mom.
"Good morning, sweetie," she said, turning to smile at me. "Did you sleep well?"
I smiled back, feeling grateful for her warm presence. "Yes, I did. And I can smell that breakfast is going to be amazing."
Mom laughed and turned towards the pan, I settled into a stool at the island and considered staying back from the cafe today, I could stay with my parents, maybe go shopping with Mom, or maybe she would love to see the cafe and I could show that to her. It would be a win-win for me.
I chatted with Mom as she cooked the next batch of pancakes, then she handed me a plate, piled high with fluffy pancakes and crispy bacon. We sat together at the table, enjoying the delicious meal and each other's company.
I eagerly dug into my breakfast, savoring the sweet and salty flavors of the pancakes and bacon. But as I took a few more bites, I felt a strange sensation in my stomach. It was a slow churning that gradually grew more intense until I felt sick.
I pushed my plate away and stood up, feeling a wave of nausea wash over me. "Excuse me, Mom," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't feel well. I think I need to go lie down for a bit."
My mom looked at me with concern, putting a hand on my forehead to check for a fever. "You don't feel warm," she said, "but if you need to rest, that's okay. Just let me know if you need anything."
I nodded, feeling grateful for her understanding. I made my way to my room, I had just shut the door when a sensation in my stomach felt vaguely familiar, I didn't need to think much about it, I took a detour to the bathroom, I barely made it to the toilet before I started retching. The sound of my vomit hitting the water made me feel worse, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes, retching into the toilet bowl. Each heave felt like it was tearing me apart, and I wished that the sickness would pass already.
