Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 19577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
I can wait. I adjust myself under the towel and then head to the laundry machines to pull out fresh clothing.
Chapter
Six
PAYTON
Having Bodhrri here is utter bliss. In the space of a month, he's gotten the farm into shape and somehow made himself indispensable to me. He took over all the chores for a while, but as the doctor eases me off bed rest now that my fatigue is improving, I'm trying to do more around the house. I have to fight Bodhrri to let me do anything, though. It turns into a game between us—I'll start making dinner and he'll take the utensils from me. I'll gather laundry, only to discover that he's hidden the basket when I turn my back.
"Your job is simply to grow the children," he tells me. "I can do everything else."
It's hard to fight with that. It's not as if I'm dying to put fresh hay in the barn or I really love cleaning my floorboards. Sometimes I get restless, though, so Bodhrri bought a bunch of scraps from the tailor in town so I can make blankets and tiny clothes out of the castoffs. I spend most nights sewing baby clothes that look more like sacks with a gathered end, because I know how big human babies are, but I have no idea how big praxiian babies are.
My stomach is not a good guideline, because it's ridiculously enormous and seems to double in size every time I look in the mirror. My hips have been spreading, and my back hurts as I struggle to carry the weight of my belly in front of me. I've made a sling that goes around my neck and under my belly to try and give it some support, but then my neck just ends up hurting. So...I sit a lot. I sit a lot and drool over Bodhrri as he takes care of me and the house, and I feel like a creep because I'm as big as a planet with babies and yet I've never been so turned on in my life.
It doesn't help that Bodhrri's everything I wanted in a partner. He's warm and caring. I love talking to him. Love just hearing about his day. His sense of humor matches mine. He loves a good cup of tea, fresh air, and morning sunrises. He approaches every day with enthusiasm, and even the smallest of chores make him happy because he's here on Risda. I know just how he feels. This planet is a gift, and I have yet to take it for granted. It's his enthusiasm for life that I find as appealing as the rest of him. I try to come up with things I don't like about him and...I can't. I don't even mind that he's fuzzy and has different, cat-like features. That's just who he is. He's affectionate and funny, and I just...I'm obsessed.
Call it hormones, call it whatever, all I know is that I think about him constantly.
I don't do anything about it, of course. I'm heavily pregnant and I've never felt less sexy. I worry that my attraction to him is one-sided. He might be humoring me because he wants to stay on the planet, and the thought of him playing along makes my pride shrivel. So I say nothing.
I do feel guilty he sleeps in the barn, though. My house is small and there's very little room, but I'm pretty sure I can squeeze a cot for him in the living area. I need to ask him to move inside. I just haven't come up with the right way to phrase it yet. I think about this all day, and I don't know how to bring it up without it feeling like the creepy older woman is hitting on him. I don't want to chase him off because I need his help desperately.
That night, I decide I need to bring up a change in circumstances. It's unfair to make him sleep in the barn any longer, and I toy with the idea all through dinner. Do I casually bring it up? Have a sit-down conversation and make it a big deal so he doesn't think I'm hitting on him? What?
I'm quiet through dinner, waiting for the perfect moment to bring things up as he eagerly discusses the repairs the barn needs for the upcoming colder weather. I toy with my noodles, nodding assent.
Bodhrri reaches over and puts his hand on mine, startling me. "Are you well? Is your stomach bothering you?"
"Hm? Oh no, I'm fine."
"But you are not eating. And you are very quiet. Are you feeling all right?" His expression is one of pure worry.
Me, I can't concentrate on anything but that big, warm hand covering mine. I want to grab his fingers and hold his hand tightly. I want to drag his hand over me and use it to do filthy things to my body. I chicken out, though. "I'm just having a craving for pickles. That's all."