‘You’re not worried about me, then? It’s not my safety anymore?’ I watch him carefully, weighing up his reaction to my words.
I’ve shocked him because he’s not coming back with a counter attack. He’s just severely chomping on that bottom lip, his mind’s cogs racing at a million miles per hour. He finally sags, swinging away from me on his stool, his hands diving straight into his messy array of dark blonde. ‘Fucking hell,’ he curses quietly. ‘Fucking, f**k, f**k, f**k!’
‘I mean it, Jesse.’ I reinforce my threat. I need him to know that I’m not setting myself up for this. I was wrong to go out and get myself pissed up, aware that I’m pregnant, but it was only a result of what this man does to me—what this man spikes in me. I won’t be getting pissed again, but a small glass of red wine won’t hurt and a half cooked steak is harmless. Don’t even get me started on the eggs.
I see his eyes clench shut and he takes a deep breath before turning towards my calm face. He takes my water and places it on the bar, and then holds my hands in his. ‘I’m sorry.’
I very nearly fall off my stool. ‘You are?’ There is no escaping the shock in my voice. Even if I was threatening him with confidence, I had absolutely no faith that he would take any notice of me.
‘I am. I’m sorry. This is going to take some getting used to.’
I laugh. ‘Jesse, this is hard enough to cope with, without dealing with an enhanced control freak. It’s not something I planned or even considered. I don’t need you on my case, analysing every move I make, monitoring everything that passes my lips. Please don’t make this tougher than it already is.’ I started on a laugh, but that little speech just ended completely seriously. I mean every word, and he knows it. His sorry eyes confirm it. I know he can’t help it, but he must. I need to work heavily on some reassurance, and then perhaps he might ease up. It’s an ambitious thought when he’s hardly learnt to control his challenging ways when it comes to only me.
I let out an almighty sigh and stand up, positioning myself between his legs. ‘I want my baby to have a daddy. Please, try to reduce the risk of a stress induced heart attack by chilling out a little.’ I kiss every part of his face that I can lay my lips on, and he lets me.
‘Hmmm. I’ll work on it, baby. I’m really trying, but can we at least compromise?’
‘Compromise how?’
I feel his hand slide onto my head and grasp my hair, pulling my busy lips away from him. He pouts. ‘Please don’t drink.’ His eyes are pleading with me, and I realise all too quickly how important it is to him. He’s a recovering alcoholic, even if he won’t admit it. For me to chuck alcohol down my throat in normal circumstances would be thoughtless. While I’m carrying his baby would be way past that. It would be cruel.
‘I won’t.’ I agree, and the relieved look that washes over his face makes me feel awful. Really really awful. ‘Go and get me a medium cooked steak.’ I peck his lips and pull out of his hold, placing myself back on my stool. ‘And I’d like that dressing on my salad.’ I nod past him.
He gives my cheek a quick stroke and leaves me at the bar to go and fulfil his obligation of getting his pregnant wife a medium cooked steak.
As my eyes wander around the bar, I immediately notice that it’s busy, something I was oblivious to when Jesse brought me in here and while we were busy sniping at each other, and subsequently making friends. Did they hear anything? Oh God, have we just revealed to a bar full of members that I’m expecting? My eyes flick across various groups, all drinking and chatting, but the curious interest that always surrounds me when I’m here is ever present. I spot Natasha in the corner with voice one and voice three, and I’m mortified when her eyes drop to my stomach. My face heats, and I swing back towards the bar, hastily escaping her inquisitive, intent look. It’s so easy to forget there’s a world happening around us when we’re so wrapped up in each other, whether we’re arguing, making friends or just plain getting our fix of each other.
‘Evening, Ava.’ Drew’s reserved tone pulls my attention in his direction, and I’m more than thrown to find him in jeans. He has a formal shirt tucked in and his black hair is perfectly placed, as usual, but jeans?
‘Hi,’ I can’t help my eyes making repeat up and down motions over his body, and when he shifts uncomfortably, I realise that he’s caught me making my examinations. I quickly snap myself out of my rude observations. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good. And you?’ He nods at Mario, who promptly collects a beer from a fridge and delivers it to Drew.
‘Great,’
‘Oh, congratulations,’ he raises his bottle and takes a swing.
I gape at him. He knows, too?
‘Never thought I’d see the day.’ He shakes his head.