My beast was pleased he could help.And you said I had nothing to contribute, he scoffed.
22
BRONSON
I worked as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake up my mate. I couldn't remember the last time I woke up this full of energy, much less at three o'clock in the morning, but there I was with this itching desire to clean the kitchen. I tried to roll over, push it down, and go back to sleep. No one got up in the middle of the night to clean, right? Except apparently pregnant omegas did. Or at least this pregnant omega did.
The weird part was that the kitchen wasn’t gross or dirty. Not even close. All of the dishes were clean and put away. The counters were wiped, the floor was swept, the trash emptied. But that wasn't good enough for me. Nope. I had this compulsion to go in there and clean it from top to bottom. The walls, ceilings, floors, inside and outside of cabinets, redoing all of the dishes, going through the refrigerator and freezer, getting rid of anything that was even close to the expiration date, and scrubbing… all of it had to be done and ASAP.
I hadn't completely lost my grip on reality. I knew that using chemicals wasn't good for the baby, so it was vinegar and baking soda for the walls, the floors, and such. While I was getting itdone, I saw how ridiculous I was being. The kitchen was fine… better than fine. Still, I couldn’t stop until it was done.
It was getting near six, and I was feeling really good about my progress. I had a few more dishes to wash and dry, but the pots had been completely done, along with the silverware. The walls, the refrigerator, the floors were all spick and span. All that was left was the ceiling which I knew I had to give to my mate because I wasn’t tall enough and standing on a ladder with my huge belly was asking for trouble, along with a handful of glasses and all of our dinner plates… every last one of them.
Victory was within my reach, but also, I was starving. The bagel place I’d been craving opened up soon, and I decided to take a break from my mission, throw on some clothes, and head on out for bread-tastic yums. Daddy was starving.
As quiet as I had been in the kitchen, I failed when I entered our bedroom, shutting the door a little too loudly behind me and waking my mate.
"Why are you up?" He sat up, his hair tousled from sleeping, which was always his sexiest look in my opinion. It was one reserved just for me, and I cherished it.
"Bagels," was my one-word response.
He'd see the kitchen later, but if I told him about it now, he'd be out there cleaning the plates. And I didn't need that. He didn't need that. No one needed that. What we needed was bagels.
"I'll get you bagels, mate. Come back to bed. You are pregnant, it’s my job to indulge you."
Suddenly, being back in bed sounded like the best idea ever. All of that energy I had flowing through me was gone. I hated thatthere was still a pile of plates, but there was no denying that I wanted to be back under those covers more than I wanted them rewashed. I padded over to our bed and climbed in. Lincoln kissed my cheek and tucked the blankets in close around me the way I loved.
“Usual order?”
"No, olive cream cheese today. Baby wants some salt." My go-to was an egg sandwich, but nothing sounded better than olive cream cheese slathered on the bagel. “Not toasted.”
"Got it." He kissed my forehead and went into the bathroom. Somewhere between that time and the time he came back out again, I had fallen back asleep.
I didn't wake up again until I heard a dish drop in the sink. It hadn't shattered, but it rang loudly enough that it had me sitting up, reminding me of the mess I'd left in there… or a half-mess compared to what the place had looked like around four am.
I jumped out of bed, nearly toppled over, my belly the size of a small car in front of me, and waddled back into the kitchen. "I'll get this. Don't worry about it." It was one thing for me to feel the need to uber clean the place. It was another to put that on him.
"Why were all the plates on the counter?" They no longer were. He’d either rewashed them or just put them away. I wasn’t asking which, because if I did, the odds were great that I’d be emptying that entire cupboard again and making him feel bad.
"You don't want to know." I scanned for the bagels, found the bag, and snatched it. "Mine?"
"Yes, mate, that's yours. But the price for opening it is telling me what happened in the kitchen." He wasn’t going to give up.I didn’t blame him. There were many rational reasons someone might empty a cupboard, including bugs and rodents. My reason wasn’t rational, but he had no way of knowing that.
"Bagel time,” I growled. What had gotten into me that I was growling like a dog with his bone?
"Fine. You can tell me while you're eating your bagel."
At least I got my bagel. I explained to him what I'd done, and to my surprise, he didn't laugh or roll his eyes or any of the things I’d have done if it were in reverse.
"They say nesting takes form in weird ways," he said.
"Nesting? I'm not laying eggs." I grabbed my belly, pressing on it, hoping to feel our little one kick… a sure sign there couldn't be an egg, right?
"No, you’re not. Maybe if you were mated to an eagle or something else with wings, but not with a panther. No worries there. You are egg-free." He explained it as if this were a normal conversation and not me on some weird pregnancy spiral.
I hadn't even considered eggs being an option before he mentioned nesting. Now that he had, I was glad I had a four-legged shifter mate. Eggs did not sound like something I’d be able to deal with. Growing a baby was hard enough without the extra step of sitting on a nest of eggs.
"Nesting in this context just means that you're getting ready for baby. It means our time as a couple without children is nearing an end. How about this, after your bagel, we're going out. Yep, that’s what we’ll do. We're going to spend a romantic day together."
