Rose Grove - (H.S.)

18

Day three.

Day three of waking up with extreme nausea and feeling fatigued no matter how much sleep I get the night before. It's gotten so crippling that Harry convinced me to take the rest of the week off of work. I've been taking off so much lately that I hesitated, but ultimately the kids would be better off with Haley and September considering I can barely form a coherent thought in the mornings.

After I found out I was infertile I read every book and blog known to man about pregnancy, I know all of the ins and outs. So, of course, I know morning sickness and fatigue are some of the first few signs of pregnancy. I didn't understand Harry's worries at first because the thought of being pregnant is so far from my mind, it will never happen for me.

But after some constant overhinking, I went to the drug store and bought three more tests. They're not always accurate so I assumed maybe I was pregnant and I just needed to take some more.

Each test came back negative.

Had I found out I was pregnant I don't know how I would've felt. Part of me would be bursting with joy because I've always wanted to be a mother, but the other part would be scared. Scared that I'm still technically in a relationship and pregnant with another man's child, scared that I'm not ready.

But now I'm back at square one. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I've boiled it down to stress. These past few months have been horrible on my mental health because of all the anxiety, so it's not crazy to assume it has started to affect me physically.

If this mysterious illness has made anything clearer for me, though, it's my feelings for Harry. Perhaps it's just because he's a father and taking care of someone who is sick is part of that, but he's so damn good at it. He's been so gentle and understanding. If I wanted to stay in bed until the late afternoon, he was laying next to me, if I could only stomach something very specific, he was at the store or in the kitchen making sure I had it.

All I could think about was all the times I was sick as a child and I never had my mom taking care of me like all the rest of the kids. Or how Rho would tell me I was being dramatic because god forbid I come down with something. My entire life my problems have been minimized, big or small. To have someone like Harry show me that no matter how minuscule they may think my issues are, they care, and they'll never tell me I'm not allowed to feel the way I do.

I never felt unconditionally cared for until I met Harry. Which is hard to wrap my brain around. How did I go twenty-five years without a person like this and then he comes along and shows me so much about how I deserve to be treated in such a short time span.

He has to be God sent. I can't fathom any other explanation.

I've been basically bedridden for the past few days so about thirty minutes ago when Harry got home from taking Autumn to Rose Grove, he insisted I get some change of scenery. Of course with it being November in Vermont, the change of scenery is just to the living room.

"You play?" I ask as Harry sits on the floor and I lay with my head in his lap, watching with curious eyes as he picks up a guitar I've never seen moved from it's corner.

He nods. "A little. I only know a few songs," he explains as he begins plucking the strings and tuning it before he starts playing.

"So, is that what you do? You're a musician?" I ask, curiosity getting the best of me. The more and more I fall for Harry, I realize I don't know much about him. I know his character and how good he makes me feel, but when it comes to his job and other basic things, I have nothing. I know he owns that coffee shop, but he's not there enough for that to be his only job.

He shakes his head. "Nope, but close," he smirks down at me and softly begins strumming the guitar with a smug look on his face. He wants me to guess.

"What's close to a musician but not a musician?" I question with a small, exhausted laugh. "A producer? No, that's not it. I feel like I'd know that by now," I think out loud, trying to make sense of his small and extremely vague hint.