CHAPTER599
Arrick is extremely dead pan suddenly and I know he’s recoiling into that good old emotionally devoid control, so he can handle something he really doesn’t want to. It only serves to make me more sensitive and on edge and I shove him in the abs in complete frustration.
“Arrick! What fucking test?”
“I think you might be pregnant.” He just comes out with it, straight faced, tight lipped and I blink at him as though he has lost his mind.
“You’re an idiot… We use birth control, Arry. The same one I have been using since the first time you ever had sex with me. Two years on this injection… No babies. It obviously works.” I snap, touchy and pissed at this weird conversation, all because I wanted sex a little rough and kinky after a few drinks and I am obviously still unwell.
“Look, this isn’t exactly something I am happy about either… We never planned this or even put it in the plan, but you might be. Isn’t it better to rule it out?” He looks pensive, not really giving much away in terms of tone or expression and I scowl at him.
“No, because I’m not, and you’re overthinking my being sick for one day as something it’s not. Stop being a drama queen, Arrick. It’s not a good quality in a guy.” I slide up off the bed huffily and push past him, so I am on my feet, refusing to hear this nonsense.
So not having a B. God, I cannot even use the word even mentally.
It’s preposterous. I’m on contraception and I don’t feel any different at all, except a little sick and dizzy. Okay right now a little hungry because I upchucked dinner and of course I’m tired. It’s been a long emotional day and I should have stayed in bed.
“Sophie?” Arrick follows me and my temper snaps irrationally.
“WHAT?”
Okay, a little OTT but he’s annoying me with this.
“We’re not done talking…”
Ummm, yes, we are.
I walk out of the bedroom before he’s finished but he’s hot on my heels as I get to the kitchen at speed, stopping to stare at me when I tug out an array of random foods from the refrigerator to make myself a sandwich. Grabbing what I fancy.
“Okay, look… I get that you worry, and tonight I clearly shouldn’t have gone out. It doesn’t mean anything. People get sick and maybe my ass is bigger from staying here as I don’t go to the gym with you anymore and I like sweet things. I mean Janetta makes me a chocolate dessert almost every night, and the fact that I’m more emotional. You said it yourself. That living here has made things more strained and I have not been as happy, so maybe yeah. More emotional in general, but that’s not an issue when we go home. You overthink, it’s what you do. And you find all possible worst-case scenarios in every little thing and torture yourself to death. It’s practically your MO. So, while I disagree with you, I am not surprised that you came up with this dumb ass conclusion when you have mother hen putting nonsense in your head.”
I slap some filler on my bread and carry on constructing while looking his way and rambling on to cover how short I was with him a moment ago. Arrick is silently standing at the door watching me with a weird look on his face and I continue.
“I can’t and won’t be pregnant, Arry, it’s not possible. Besides, we have had a lot of sex in two years and at some point, a lot of sex in like one day and it has never failed me yet. These past few months we spent a lot of time apart, so it’s less likely to have happened when you sum it up rationally, really. And I mean you know, we haven’t missed any birth control and I’m never late getting it either, so I’m fully covered in all ways and it’s due in like maybe a week. I already booked the appointment.” I stop and flip my other slice of bread on top, before lifting and take a bite.
God, this sandwich is amazing.
I turn back to him with a full mouth, chewing in a very unladylike manner. He is still staring at me rather oddly, decidedly pale, and not really saying much. He’s in what I like to call ‘Arrick mode’ when that brain is dissecting life and worrying himself into a silent ulcer. Sometimes that head of his is a massive curse.
“I rarely drink anymore so it makes sense that after being unwell I was a little more sensitive and got a little trashed, and we both know we do a lot kinkier stuff when we are drunk, right? Looser inhibitions. You are soooooo overthinking this.” I smile his way as I swallow my food and take another monster bite.
“I would have agreed with everything you said just now, had I not watched you make a sandwich that consisted of four meats, jelly, peanut butter, cheese and pickles, baby, and then add chocolate sauce with marshmallows on top.” He looks at my plate with a grimace and then back at my face as I chew.
I glance down and register that my amazing sandwich does look a lot like a messy dog’s dinner of random ingredients, but I grabbed everything I had a major craving for, like I normally do when he’s not around. Okay so usually I am a little less weird about my concoctions, but I mean, it tastes great.
“I’m not pregnant.” I swan past him to try and head back to our room, but he catches me by the wrist and turns me to him.
“Then a test won’t hurt… If only to stop me from overthinking myself crazy.” He isn’t letting this go and I eyeroll at him. He has that stubborn squared Carrero jaw going on and his eyes are very green. I’ve no chance of talking him out of another Arry emotional mind meltdown. So, I relent.
“Okay!! Knock yourself out. Fetch one and make me pee on whatever you pee on and waste both time and effort doing so. And you can clean up whatever mess I make trying to pee in a cup or on a stick, seeing as this is your idea.”
“I’ll go find a twenty-four-hour pharmacy and get one.” He is still emotionally flat, and I know he won’t improve until he gets this dumb idea out of his obsessive head.
“I’m not pregnant.” I chirp in a sing song way as I get to the couch with my food and slump down to get comfy.
Still hate this couch.
“Sophie?”
“Not pregnant” I repeat as I carry on eating and realize I never got anything to wash it down. I slide it onto the low coffee table, get up and head back again with him right behind me.
“I want to know for sure. Because if you are…” His voice fades and for a moment his silence makes me turn to him. The look on his face is exactly how I feel about the topic… We don’t want and are not ready to be having any little people anytime soon. This is nothing new to me and I’m glad we are still on the same page. Neither of us want or need a B right now.
“I’m not… Stop stressing. We are all good in here… Just hungry.” I pat my abdomen then open the refrigerator for a drink and start glugging it down from the cartoon that is in the door.
Tangy, weird fruit juice but I guess it tastes okay.
“Jesus Christ, Sophie.” Arry looks utterly appalled and covers his face with his hands.
“What?” I blink innocently and screw my face up at his over dramatics.
Sometimes Arry is a fricken weirdo.
“Your drinking pickle juice that Janetta left in the fridge for whatever she plans on pickling tomorrow.” He looks back up at me with that same expression of disgust he had over my vomiting on him and I frown back for a second.
I stop and look at the juice bottle in my hand and don’t even register that it tasted any different to the grape juice that we keep in here. I look at the bottle and then in the fridge and see another one, only it’s purple liquid and this is sort of foggy and semi clear. I sniff it and smell the unmistakable diluted vinegar and wrinkle my nose up in disgust.
“It doesn’t taste like it.” I shrug and put it back and opt for grape juice instead. Washing it down and not liking that the first one tasted a lot better.
Arrick sinks against the wall beside him and seems to sag as he slides down and lands on his ass on the floor.
“What the fuck are we going to do?” he exhales as though somehow his whole world just came crashing in on his neatly ironed self.
For god’s sake.
“Shut up and stop being lame. Sometimes I really wonder about you.”"
