Personal Chef

Chapter 90

"There's no easy way to say this, Chelsea," Dr. Abbott said cautiously, "but you're gaining a bit more weight than is considered healthy."

I knew this, of course. I saw myself in the mirror every day. I didn't just have a big baby belly now that I was seven months pregnant; I also had a bit of a double chin.

"I know," I said. "I'm just hungry all the time and there are so many delicious things available at my restaurant."

"Hunger is understandable. Your body is working hard to grow a little human and that requires energy. You need to swap out fruits and veggies and lean protein for whatever you're eating now. You don't want to give birth and have fifty pounds to lose."

Nodding, I promised to try harder between now and my next appointment. Shawn would be here for that one, and I really didn't want him to hear the doctor lecture me about my weight.

Not that he ever said a word about the pounds I'd put on. I wasn't sure if this was because it was no big deal to him, or if it was because he was far too polite and kind to criticize me in any way. There had been an awkward moment recently when I'd climbed on top of him when we were fooling around and he'd involuntarily let out an audible "oof." If I hadn't been desperate for sex, I probably would have run into the bathroom from embarrassment.

Speaking of sex, I couldn't get enough of it. Pastries and Shawn's dick were what I craved all day long.

When I got to the car, I texted Shawn to let him know everything was okay with the baby. He was towards the end of a very abbreviated festival run in Europe and North America which amounted to nine shows over six weeks with a couple weeks at home in the middle. This tour had been a compromise with Andrew for the impending yearlong sabbatical. Shawn had been worried about leaving me in my third trimester, but Andrew had arranged it so that he would be done before the start of my last month of pregnancy. The last few shows were on the east coast of the US, so if I went into labor early, he was a short flight away.

Me: Check up went well.

He replied immediately.

Shawn❤️: does little Hermione miss me?

Me: No. Just no.

Shawn❤️: its a cute name

Me: I'm filing for divorce.

Shawn❤️: love you too, honey

Naming the baby had become a bit of a bone of contention between us. We'd agreed that we wanted something kind of unusual, but finding something we both liked was proving to be problematic.

I went straight from my appointment to the bistro. It was harder to take time off since the patio was open and business was booming. Waving to the staff in the dining room, I went straight into the kitchen to relieve my cooks.

"How are you feeling, mama?" Paige asked when I came out to the dining room later to check on things.

"Huge," I answered truthfully.

On top of the coffee bar sat glass domes holding an assortment of decadent desserts. I'd made butterscotch blondies the day before and they were calling my name.

"Split one?" I asked Paige, pointing to what I wanted.

Half a blondie was better than a whole one, right?

"Sure," she said agreeably.

We ate our treat and talked about some new menu ideas. I'd reinstated taco Tuesdays for the summer but wanted to add another themed night to the mix. We'd come up with the idea of sandwich Sundays, but it needed some kind of twist to make people want to come try them. Sandwiches alone weren't much of a draw.