If We Love Again

Chapter 17

Mood Swings

She'll pick a fight for no good reason. She knows I'll never leave. I love her half to death but she's killing me.

–– She's Killing Me, A Rocket To The Moon

• • •

  

        I WAKE UP EUPHORIC IN HIS ARMS. Never in my life have I thought that I’d be given the chance to be this happy. Earl is sleeping peacefully beside me. His hot breath fanning my face gently. I slowly get out of bed. I don’t plan on waking him up, in fear that something might happen again. Not that I don’t want to. It’s just that, last night definitely took all my energy.

        I slip on the nearest shirt I could find, the one which belongs to Earl.

        I briskly walk toward the kitchen.

        I decide to have pancakes for breakfast. I pour the flour, egg yolk and baking soda in the bowl altogether. And due to my weird craving, I add melted cheese to the mixture as I beat the entire recipe. As soon as I finish preparing the ingredients, I turn on the stove and start frying the pancake.

        In the midst of my cooking, I find myself trapped in a familiar embrace from behind; the gesture catches me by surprise. “Good morning, beautiful,” Earl whispers. Feeling his hot breath in my ear send shivers down my spine, “What do we have for breakfast besides you?” He leans his head on my shoulder.

        “Pancakes.”  

        He plants his soft lips against my nape, suckling my skin gently. I try to keep a straight face and focus my attention on the stove. But my attempt is futile. Palpitations begin to surge through my chest. My breathing becomes ragged as I muffle my moans. “E-Earl... W-We can’t”

        I hear him chuckle as he finally stops the suction. “I was just teasing you,” he utters, loosening his embrace.

        “Kindly refrain yourself from whatever teasing you have in mind.” I scoff. “And keep in mind that I’m carrying a child.”

        I turn off the burner and pull the pan out of the stove. I heave out a sigh of relief and turn to face him. He should be aware of his effect on me; he has no idea how weak I am against him.

       Earl lets out a mirthful laugh “I’m doing my best to be gentle you know,” he utters, winking playfully.

        His laughter sounds so soothing, to the ear. I surely miss everything about him. It’s been a while ever since I’ve seen him smile, not the smirk and smug he often shows, but a jovial one that signifies how genuinely happy he is.

         I set the plates and utensils on the table.

       When everything is ready to serve, the two of us settle ourselves on the unoccupied chairs. I grab the chocolate syrup and squeeze it forcefully; dark liquids begin to ooze from the container. As I finish pouring half of the syrup’s content, I pass it to Earl.

        The two of us begin to dig in our meals. On his first bite, he suddenly stops chewing as if he’s displeased by the flavor.

        I give him a questioning look. “What’s wrong? Does it taste horrible?”

        “What did you put into this? It tastes—” My brows furrow at his complaint, when he notices the dismay crossing my visage, he tries to contemplate on his choice of words, “—odd.”