You Make It Easy

Mr. Positive.

Maya~

"That's all?" I ask, Christian as he has a backpack in hand with all of his stuff.

"I have the necessities. Laptop, clothes, shower stuff. That's all I really need."

I forget that men are so simple. I would need a large tote bag for all of my things if I were staying here for a week.

I watch him hobble to the elevator, "Did they give you crutches?"

"Yeah, I don't like them."

"Seriously?"

"They're uncomfortable."

"That doesn't matter when you can hardly walk."

"I can walk just fine."

"Yeah? Then why are you limping?"

"I've always walked like this."

I press the elevator button to take us to the parking garage. He elbows me, "What, you got nothing to say to that?"

"No, I'm choosing to ignore you and your awful decisions."

He laughs as we walk onto the elevator. "You're taking an Advil, sitting your butt on the couch with an ice pack on your knee, and watching TV when we get back."

"I ever tell you that it's incredibly hot when you're bossy?" I keep my smile in, shaking my head.

Noted: Being bossy turns him on (?)

I can't help but think about the almost-kiss. I wanted to do it so badly. One, I was at work. Two, if we kiss, I feel that he'll think everything can go back to how it was before the pregnancy. Not that it can't, however, I think it'd be hard to allow myself to get there.

But who gives a shit? Me, I do. Who else would give a shit besides me? No one.

He sets his bag in the backseat. "What's for dinner?" he asks, moving the passenger seat back as I started my car.

"I was just going to ask you that."

"What sounds good?"

"I didn't eat lunch so, anything sounds good to me."

"Why didn't you eat?"

"Because it was nonstop and I didn't have time to eat."

"All that time talking to me, you could've been eating?"

I glance over at him, "It's not the first time I've skipped a meal. I live to see the end of the day."

"You don't get tired throughout the day without eating?"

"That's what coffee is for."

My music stops as I get a call from Abby. I end the call. She calls me again and I end it once again. I definitely had an appointment today and I'm missing it.

"Who's that?"

"It's work," I lie.

"Calling you in?"

"I'm not going in. I'm almost at my limit for hours this week," I tell him. That is true. I've worked too much this week.

"What's the limit?"

"It's 60, but they stretch it to 72 by paying us overtime."

"What are you at?"

"64, I think."

"So you have eight more hours before a hard cutoff?"

"It's more of a gentle suggestion. If I'm in the middle of something, they're not going to kick me out."