Three's A Crowd

Fifty Three | 'Oh No' Realization Two

Around four in the morning, I heard something that sounded like distant whining. I thought it was the pups... and the room I was in smelt like cinnamon, whiskey? And then something just... Chris.

Then I remember what happened last night, the kiss and me against the wall, and tears and a vulnerability I've never displayed under such circumstances, not with past lovers, but with the same guy who got me through them. My heart still felt heavy, still felt like it wasn't there in my chest, empty within my rib cage but I felt warmth... I felt safe. My eyes flutter open, sore and heavy with exhaustion and I make out a figure at the side of my bed, one arm crossed over the other, the other extended towards me, fingers laced together loosely, his back illuminated by the early morning light that peeked through the shades.

I notice the box of tissues on the nightstand and two glasses; one filled up full with cold water that left moisture on the outside of the glass and one left empty. I was turned facing Chris, who snored a little in his sleep. The covers were ruffled down, and I must've fallen asleep on top of them, my jean shorts replaced with silk PJ's, feet covered with the black socks I wore with my boots.

I study Chris, and I notice his phone lying face down on the bed, almost slipping off the edge. I reach over and take it so I can put it on the nightstand, just to make sure it didn't fall and crack the screen, but reaching over caused Chris to stir awake. He inhales a deep breath as he raises his head, still adjusting to the little light of the room, so instead I move his phone further off the edge, just laying there.

"Hey..."

I didn't trust my voice to answer, so I pray he saw the little smile I gave him, squeezing his hand so he knew I was up. He sits up a little more straighter, and I then only start to notice that he changed his 'return to hell' shirt for a black loose t-shirt and a hoodie. And I couldn't blame him for changing into a more warmer shirt, the room was a little bit cold.

"Do you want something to eat?"

The question had me thinking. The last thing I ate last night were corndogs and strawberry ice cream; which I almost lost riding the Cyclone. I was hungry. I nodded my head and Chris untangled our fingers gently and got up, stretching his arms and legs. He was probably cramped up in that position for hours. He moves toward the window and peeked through, allowing more blue morning light to seep into the room. I noticed we were in one of the larger guest rooms, the room I was gonna share with Carter and Mom. Where they were, I had no idea. But I did know that the drink fest had stopped already; the house was deadly quiet.

"Come on sweet girl, gotta get you outta there."

I knew what he meant, this... headspace I subject myself to whenever I had a bad day... he didn't need to know the story to know I was having that kind of day, so I let him take my hand and lead me downstairs for a four a.m. breakfast, no fighting back. As we head down to the stairway, we see Carly sitting at the top of the steps, a bowl of cut bananas and ice cubes smothered in chocolate and what looks like a green jalapeño on the side.

"Carly?" I rasped out, wincing at the hoarseness of my own voice that didn't even sound like my own voice. Instead of rushing over to see what was wrong, Chris and I stayed put in our place, in utter shock. She lets out a deep breath and we see her holding her stomach, a pained expression on her face, taking even more deep breaths. "That can't just be contractions... Carly, are you okay?"

"Mm... n-nope, not today, I cannot be giving birth now!"

And cue the panic.

"Blaming it on the jalapeño," Chris muttered under his breath, still in shock that this has yet again happened to us.