Broken (Broken #1) (17 page)

When I finally make it
downstairs I have to breathe deeply when I smell bacon. It’s odd
because yesterday I wanted bacon and now the thought of it makes my
stomach roll. I tentatively make my way into the dining area,
Nathan is sat much like he was yesterday morning, this time he
holds a different book and no glasses are perched on his nose. His
hair is styled differently too, or maybe he just hasn’t combed it
yet.

He looks far more casual than
yesterday in a blue shirt and dark jeans, different from yesterday
morning. This makes me wonder why he was wearing a suit last night,
I don’t remember him going anywhere to make him feel the need to
change into something so seemingly formal.

“
You’re
staring at me,” he comments as I lower myself into my
seat.

“
Sorry,” I
mumble and look down at my plate, I can hear Jeanine in the
background singing to herself. Although I’m not entirely sure which
direction her voice is coming from. “I was wondering…”

“
Jeanine!”
His hand smacks the table making me jump and gasp.
“Enough!”

I’m shocked when I hear her
laugh loudly before falling silent. He rubs his eyes with his
gloved hands and places the book down on the placemat across from
me.

“
You were
wondering…” he prompts me to finish my earlier sentence.

“
Oh, umm… I
can’t remember now.”

He gives me a pointed look, I
have to fight against my need to shy away from his dark gaze,
“Don’t play with me. Spit it out.”

Snort. I haven’t felt the need
to laugh in a really long time but this almost pushes me over.

He thinks on it for a moment
before rolling his eyes when he figures out the reason for my
unattractive snort, “Honestly, how old are you?”

“
Twenty
one.”

“
It was a
rhetorical question aimed at your level of maturity.”

I keep my eyes down and pick at
the bacon on my plate.

He sighs loudly, “Yesterday you
wanted bacon and now you have it you aren’t happy. Typical.”

“
No,” I shake
my head. “It’s great. Thank you.” I slowly move a piece toward my
mouth, my eyes flickering to him. “Smoked, I love smoked bacon.” My
stomach makes a loud churning noise, I stand slowly. “Excuse me.”
With my hand over my mouth I rush from the room and back upstairs.
Hurl. Gross.

Jeanine joins me a few minutes
later with a cup of ginger flavoured tea and a ginger biscuit. Why
do all older people think ginger is the cure for all sickness? It
doesn’t work. Well, it doesn’t for me. I can’t stand ginger.

I head back to my room seeking
solitude.

There’s a light tapping at the
door after twenty minutes of my being in here, I don’t respond, I
sit on the window seat and stare solemnly through the glass. The
trees look so thick and vibrant, when you try to look through the
leaves, but if you’re walking through them they don’t look nearly
so thick. They’re actually quite spaced out. It’s all of the bushes
and twigs that make the forest difficult to walk through. I bet if
you flew above this particular patch of trees and looked down, it
would look like a blanket of leaves covering the cliff.

The tapping turns to knocking.
I still don’t respond.

The door opens anyway.
Great.

I don’t turn to look at whoever
it is but I feel them enter and almost like I can sense his
domineering presence I know who it is as soon as he steps through
the door.

“
You’re
sick?”

“
Morning
sickness which comes on randomly throughout the day,” I explain and
tuck my hair behind my ears, my eyes still staring off into the
distance.

“
You’re sad,”
he observes and I want to gape at him.

“
How can I
not be?”

“
It’s been
nearly a month,” he says quietly, almost as if trying to comfort me
with his tone.

This time I do look at him,
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He looks at me for a moment
longer, his blank eyes giving nothing away. “You have a doctor’s
appointment in thirty minutes. He’s travelled to the village to see
you. Don’t be late.”

“
And how
exactly am I expected to get there?” I ask, my voice casual, my
body tense.

“
Jeanine will
drop you off on her way home and I’ll pick you up when it’s
finished.” He closes the door on his way out, I rush around getting
ready. Making sure to put on trousers so the doctor won’t get a
glimpse of my ‘mini’ if he has to do an ultrasound. Unfortunately I
have only one set of clean clothes left due to the fact my things
are still in Nathan’s car and I’ve used all the clothes in my
rucksack. I pull these on with a sigh, thankful the brown T-shirt
matches my beige jeans and boots, I don’t look a total disaster.
They fit too which is an even bigger relief.

Nathan is nowhere in sight when
I leave, I’m glad for this. I’m not sure how to react to him right
now. The guy has issues I don’t want to deal with. You’d think he’d
be a little more sympathetic towards me right now. You’d think he’d
be a bit more emotional too. Caleb was his brother and yet he shows
no signs of grief. He shows no signs of any emotion whatsoever,
I’ve never met a more robotic person in my life.

Why is part of me screaming to
be grateful? He’s messing up his privacy, his home just to
accommodate me and my baby.

But another part of me is
saying he should, it’s his niece of nephew in my stomach. He should
make sure he or she has everything that his brother would’ve given.
Well, not everything, but he should help.

It still doesn’t dismiss his
demeanour towards me.

“
Be patient,”
Jeanine tells me as we pull up to the curb after a long and quiet
ride here. “He’ll calm, he’s just not used to company.”

“
What do you
mean by that?” I mean, it’s obvious she means he lives alone but I
can’t help but feel that there’s more meaning to her
statement.

“
Would you
like me to come in with you?” Ah, a subject changer, she must be
sworn to secrecy because Jeanine doesn’t come across as the type
who likes secrets.

I shake my head, “No, it
wouldn’t feel right. It was our thing… you know?”

She gives my hand a squeeze and
nods, her eyes misting over with understanding, “I know pet.”

The doctor sees me immediately,
he informs me his name is Dr Meadow and he’ll be delivering my
child privately. So I’m guessing I’m not getting baby care on the
NHS. What the hell is wrong with Nathan? What’s wrong with the
NHS?

He does an ultrasound to see
how far along I am even though I already told him two seconds ago.
I find no enjoyment in this, I hardly look and refuse to know the
sex of it yet. It was for Caleb and I to discover together, it
doesn’t feel right doing this on my own. He takes far more
measurements than the people back at home did, which concerns me.
He assures me it’s so he can monitor every single aspect of my
pregnancy from now until the end.

Apparently I’m perfectly
healthy as far as he can tell and my baby is going to be a big one,
he wants to take my bloods to test me for diabetes and other
illnesses. Mainly diabetes because apparently people with diabetes
have large babies.

This makes me want to slap him
even if he is being nice about it. I’m large, pregnant and hormonal
and I don’t need a doctor telling me I shouldn’t be so large.

Fortunately I haven’t put much
weight on anywhere else, my breasts are massive and I hope they
never deflate. The rest of me however is still a good size.

I also tell him to give me a
list of all the foods I can’t eat so I can prove to Nathan that
he’s being unreasonable, then I come to the conclusion that all I
have to do is get up earlier than him and raid his fridge. What he
doesn’t know won’t hurt.

It’s when the doctor tells me
he’ll be putting me in to see somebody that I decide I want to
leave and I want to leave now. A therapist to be exact. He thinks I
need to talk to someone about what happened or there’s a
possibility I won’t bond with the baby at birth. Finding your lover
dead is… according to him… a terrible tragedy that needs dealing
with appropriately. I disagree. Sure it’s a terrible tragedy but I
believe it needs leaving where it belongs. Locked away until my
last breath. I’m not ready to rehash the tale and I’m not sure I
ever will be.

So far since he died that’s all
I’ve thought about, is the fact he’s gone. I haven’t thought about
the night in question, I’m secretly praying I’ll suppress it
forever because if I even get a glimpse of his lifeless body lying
on our bed ever again, I’ll die inside and I’ll never be
revivable.

He assures me that I’m at a
higher risk of post-natal depression due to the events and he’s
concerned for my mental state when the baby is born. Which is a
ridiculous notion because it’s half of Caleb, if anything I’ll love
him or her even more than I would have done if Caleb was beside me.
So I refuse the help and thank him anyway.

Nathan is on time which I like,
I’m never late for anything. Caleb used to joke and say I’d
probably go into labour exactly at midnight on my due date. The
funny thing is, I don’t disagree with him. I don’t think I’ve ever
been late for anything in my life. Poor time keeping is not a good
trait to have.

I don’t say hi as I climb into
the car. He looks ticked off that I don’t wait for him to help me
in but who cares? Not me.

I place the scan picture in my
bag and tilt my seat back a little.

“
I took all
of your things inside,” he says. “I apologize for not doing it
sooner.”

“
Thanks.”

He spares me a glance, “Did
your appointment go well?”

“
Isn’t the
private doctor just going to call and inform you of the
developments later?”

He sighs, “I’m just trying to
give you a good level of healthcare so everything goes as smoothly
as possible.”

“
I’m not
complaining,” I admit honestly and look at his profile. “I just
think we should have discussed it first.”

His tongue runs along his
bottom lip, “Guinevere. Am I okay to assume you’d like private
healthcare?”

“
If you’re
offering then I won’t decline,” I say, wanting to smile but it
won’t come.

“
Good. So how
did it go?” I open my mouth to repeat my earlier statement but he
cuts me off. “Contrary to your beliefs I’m big on privacy and I
wouldn’t invade yours in such a way. If you don’t feel like telling
me then fine, I won’t ask again.”

That’s actually kind of sweet
in a strange way. “It went great, he’s checking me for diabetes
because apparently people with diabetes have bigger babies but he’s
sure I’m fine. I don’t have any of the symptoms.”

“
Your baby is
too big?”

“
He’s
guessing it’ll be about nine pounds,” I wince, not wanting to push
out something that large.

Nathan’s lips twitch, it’s the
first time I’ve ever seen him smile. Well, slightly smile. I wonder
if that’s because of grief like me. “Caleb was eight pounds
twelve.”

“
I didn’t
know that. What about you?”

He looks at me in shock but
only for a second, as if me being interested in his birth weight is
a ridiculous notion. Have I been that much of a bitch?

No.

He’s been just as
unapproachable, if not even more so than me.

“
I was nine
five,” he says this quietly and twists his fists on the
wheel.

“
Yay. My baby
is going to destroy me,” I mumble.

His hand goes to my knee, he
gives it a soft squeeze. “You’ll be fine.” Now I’m the one gaping
in shock and I’m doing it for a lot longer than a second. Even
though his hand only stayed there for a brief and comforting
squeeze I still feel his touch linger. What the hell was that?

I’m even more shocked when we
don’t go home immediately, we make a stop at a clothing store. He
leads me inside and puts me at the mercy of two women with tape
measures.

“
This one,”
he says and points to a row of clothing. “These and these. Have
them ready by next Monday and I’ll pick them up by
eleven.”

I’m annoyed he’s choosing my
clothes but I don’t say anything because I do need new clothes and
the ones he’s picked are actually quite nice. Even if they are
mostly black and white.

“
I’m
shocked,” he announces and runs his hands over a row of stretchy
denim jeans.

“
About?”

“
You’re not
arguing with me, I thought for sure I’d have a Guinevere induced
migraine by now.”

Scowl. “I don’t give you
migraines.”

“
I’ve never
had so many migraines in my life,” I’m about to snap but I realise
this is his way of teasing, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen any
emotion other than irritation in his eyes. He leads me out of the
shop and helps me back into the car, we don’t pull out immediately
as he sits, staring ahead aimlessly. I can see he wants to say
something, I don’t prompt him; I only wait. “Look Guinevere. I know
this move hasn’t been easy.” You can say that again. “And I know
what you’re going through is a grief like none I can imagine.” You
can definitely say that again. “I think things have been tense… for
both of us and I’d like it if we could try to get along. This
stress isn’t good for you and it’s irritating me greatly. My home
shouldn’t be a place of war. I want you to feel
comfortable.”

“
Stop
stealing my bacon then.”