 Photo by Hannah Jacobson on Unsplash  MELLIE
My eyes fly open, and I slide out of bed, slipping out the door and along the hall. I tug the bathroom door shut, landing on my knees and emptying my stomach into the bowl with a strangled groan. When I finish heaving, I lay my head on the seat, sweat beading my brow as I suck in deep breaths. This is our second trip to Ireland. We came the May after we got married. It was magical, just like Niall promised. So, we came back again this May. It’s been decidedly less magical. I think I might have caught something on the plane because I haven’t been able to stop throwing up. “Are you all right, a mhuirnín?” Niall’s rumbling voice washes over me as he slides to his knees beside me, his fingers stroking my hair. “No,” I croak, lifting my head so I can slump against his chest. “I feel awful.” “More vomiting?” I force my eyes open, looking at Niall’s Aunt Niamh, standing in the doorway, her dressing gown drawn tightly around her. “Aye,” Niall replies, sounding worried. “Should we go to see the doctor?” Niamh Byrne raises an eyebrow, harrumphing. “Maybe not. Niall, why don’t ye go downstairs and set the kettle going? I’ll help Mellie get cleaned up.” Niall grumbles, not wanting to leave me, but finally stands, pressing a kiss to my hair as he goes. Once he has gone, Niamh closes the door behind him, crouching beside me. “Have ye thought ye might be pregnant, lass?” I blink at her in surprise, trying to do some quick math in my head. Like I promised Niall, I stopped taking my birth control last May when we were here. But it’s been a year and not even a hint of a baby. Dr. Morales, the OBGYN Tiggy put me onto back in Boston, said to give it another two months, and if there were still nothing, we’d start doing tests. I’m only twenty-four, so she wasn’t too worried that nothing was happening immediately. Shit. When was my last cycle? I shake my head. “Maybe. Should I get a test?” Niamh smiles kindly at me. “Are ye two trying, lass?” “Since last May. Niall wants a baby wicked bad.” “And ye?” I smile, my hand moving to my stomach. “I wasn’t sure at first, but now… yes. I want a baby.” “Let’s get ye cleaned up, then we can have some tea and toast while Niall pops off to the chemist for a test.” Nodding, I let the surprisingly strong older woman help me up. A warm shower has me feeling a little more human, and she helps me downstairs. As soon as we walk into the kitchen, Niall has his arm around my waist, guiding me to the scrubbed wooden table, and lowering me into a seat, a cup of tea and some dry toast landing in front of me. He presses another kiss to my forehead, looking over as his aunt speaks. “Ye should go to the chemist, Niall.” He blinks in surprise, his eyes creasing with worry as they sweep over me. “Ye think she needs medicine?” “I think she needs a pregnancy test,” Niamh drawls. Niall’s whole body freezes until he’s a statue with wide, blinking green eyes. “Ye think Mellie could be pregnant?” he breathes, hope coloring his tone. “I think it’s a distinct possibility. The sickness, the tiredness, the not wanting to eat. All possible pregnancy symptoms. I’ll sit with the lass. Ye go and fetch a test. If it’s negative, we’ll organize a doctor’s visit.” Niall is out the door before she’s even speaking, and I have to smile. He has wanted a baby for so long. Hope curdles in my stomach as I cradle it. It’s a little bloated, but I didn’t think anything of it, until now. NIALL “Hello?” I call out as I step through the door, the bag from the chemist clutched tightly in my hand. “We’re still in here,” Aunt Niamh calls back from the kitchen. I poke my head through the doorway, my eyes landing on Mellie, who has eaten half her dry toast and finished her cup of weak tea. Aunt Niamh is dressed for the day, stirring at what smells to be the makings of a delicious lamb stew at the stove. “Ye two go upstairs. I’ll be waiting here for the news,” she calls over her shoulder. Nodding, I help Mellie stand, leading her up the stairs. As we enter the bathroom, I study her face. I was starting to worry about her. She has woken every morning of this trip with her head in the toilet, emptying her stomach. Then she sleeps most of the day. Yet she always has dark circles under her eyes. She still looks beautiful, but she doesn’t look well. Extracting the box from the shopping bag, I hold it up, carefully reading the instructions. “What do I need to do?” Mellie asks, holding out her hand. I give her the little plastic wand, pointing to the blue cap. “Take that off, pee on the end for five seconds, then we stick the cap back on and wait five minutes,” I read off the box. Mellie lets out a breath, tugging her panties down as she sits on the toilet, holding the wand between her legs. After a moment, she removes it, sticks the blue cap back on, and hands it to me. “Now we wait?” she asks, blowing out a breath. “Aye, a mhuirnín. Now we wait.” Setting the timer on my phone, I sink to the floor, my back against the vanity cabinet, my forearms propped up on my knees. Mellie flushes the toilet, washes her hands, and sinks down beside me, her head tipping onto my shoulder. We stare at the shower curtain in silence until my phone beeps, the noise loud in the otherwise silent room. Reaching over my head, I fumble with the wand where it lies on the vanity unit, bringing it down as Mellie lifts her head to look at it as well. My breath leaves me in a whoosh as I stare at the little screen. Pregnant. “A baby,” Mellie whispers, wonder coloring her tone. A wean. I’m having a wean with Mellie. My arm snakes around her shoulder, tugging her against my chest as I bury my face in her hair. Excitement surges through me, but at the same time, worry settles low in my gut. So many things can go wrong in a pregnancy. How can I protect my Mellie from them all? I grunt as a finger pokes and prods, digging into my side. “Careful, lass,” I grunt at her. Mellie makes a scoffing noise. “You’re worrying. Stop worrying.” “Sure, and I’m worrying, a mhuirnín. There are things to worry about.” “No, you’re supposed to be happy. You wanted a baby. We both wanted a baby.” Smiling, I lift my head, tipping hers back so I can brush a kiss over her lips. “I’m happy. a mhuirnín. Happy and worried.” Mellie giggles, rolling her eyes, a growl rumbling out of me. “Ye know how I feel about ye rolling yer eyes, a mhuirnín,” I warn. Mellie grins up at me. “I do. Is the Reaper going to come out to play?” My tongue darts out to lick my lips as I stand, carefully cradling her as I lift her, carrying Mellie back to our bedroom. “He is, lass. But he’s going to be very careful.” “Boo,” Mellie whines, clinging to my neck. “I don’t want a careful Reaper.” “I’ll see what I can do, lass. But I’m making no promises.” Mellie giggles as I kick the door shut behind me, laying her on the bed. When I speak, my voice is smooth as silk, just as Mellie likes. “Now, lass. Why didn’t ye think to take a pregnancy test earlier?” Mellie’s response is lost in moans as my tongue swirls over her pulse point. My hand moves to stroke her still-flat tummy. I wonder when we get to hear the heartbeat. I can’t wait for that. THE END. |
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