16
New York, Mia
I was roused from my sleep by the bright morning sunlight streaming into the room, warming my face. Something heavy was covering my left eye, and when I opened it, I let out a startled scream. Sebastian’s arm was sprawled across my face, and my initial reaction was sheer panic.
Sebastian jerked awake in response to my scream, blinking groggily at me. “Is this how you wake up? Like a damn cock?!” he grumbled, moving to his side of the bed.
“I made this pillow wall so you don’t come on my side! And you still did!” I glared at him, my heart still racing from the shock.
“I can’t control my dreams,” he retorted, his voice laced with annoyance.
“And that’s the whole point of the pillow barrier to keep you on your side.”
He rolled his eyes, clearly unfazed by my indignation, and wiped his face with his hand. “Bla bla, you didn’t die!”
Ignoring his sarcastic comment, I decided it was time to get out of bed. “I’ll wash my face and brush my teeth, and then you can bring me home,” I told him, my tone firm.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “No breakfast?” he inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice.
I paused for a moment, realizing that Sebastian was, in fact, a skilled cook. “After breakfast, of course,” I amended. I couldn’t deny the allure of a delicious meal prepared by his capable hands. I could feel his smile even though I wasn’t looking at him.
As I made my way to the bathroom to freshen up, my thoughts drifted back to the message my father had sent me. His words had struck a chord, despite having heard them countless times before. The fact that I was now pregnant added an entirely new layer of complexity and emotion to his hurtful remarks. The sting of his words had a different resonance when I considered the life growing inside me.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I wiped my face dry and gathered my belongings. It was time to face the day. I made my way to the kitchen, where the mouthwatering aroma of eggs and waffles greeted my senses.
“It smells so good,” I remarked with genuine appreciation as I took a seat at the table. Sebastian handed me a cup of tea and placed a plate filled with waffles, eggs, and pancakes in front of me. My stomach grumbled in response to the delicious spread.
“Bon appetit,” he said with a warm smile.
I couldn’t help but smile back, grateful for the effort he had put into breakfast. We may have our differences, but there was no denying that Sebastian Thornton knew his way around a kitchen.
After finishing a hearty breakfast, I felt a newfound sense of satisfaction. Sebastian had proven himself to be an impressive cook, and I couldn’t help but appreciate the effort he had put into the meal. With my belly full and my spirits lifted, I knew it was time to face the day.
We headed downstairs to the car, and I couldn’t help but be grateful that the elevator was functioning properly this time. Sebastian gallantly assisted me into the car, and we set off toward my apartment. I hoped fervently that the paparazzi had dispersed by now.
As I gazed out of the car window, my thoughts were consumed by the life growing inside me. The realization that I would soon become a mother both thrilled and terrified me. It was an opportunity to be a better parent than my own had been, especially my mother.
My mother’s plight was a complex one. She had come from a humble background and faced immense societal pressure, but I wished she had found the strength to stand up to my father or, at the very least, to seek a divorce. Instead, she endured his countless disrespect and mistreatment.
“What are you thinking about?” Sebastian’s voice broke through my reverie.
I shrugged my shoulders, a bit hesitant to share my thoughts. “Just life,” I replied cryptically.
Then, a question occurred to me, one that had been bothering me since the morning. “Your parents are religious, right?” I inquired, turning to face Sebastian. “I’m pretty sure they saw the headlines last night. What did they say?”
Sebastian remained quiet for a moment, his expression pensive. It was as though he was carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders. “Nothing, really,” he finally replied. “I don’t think they’ve seen it yet.”
I contemplated his response, wondering if he was telling the truth or merely shielding me from any potential conflicts. The car soon pulled into my street, and I released a sigh of relief as I noted the absence of paparazzi. Thank goodness for small mercies.
Just when I had dared to hope that luck was finally on my side, a sinking feeling gripped my stomach as I spotted a familiar face standing in front of my apartment. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned audibly, disbelief and frustration coursing through me.
Sebastian, noticing my distress, inquired, “Who is that bonehead standing there?”
I couldn’t help but let out an exasperated sigh before reluctantly responding, “That bonehead is my ex-husband.”Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.