"Let's have breakfast, Baby." It’s like I’m dealing with Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde when he suddenly switch from giving that glare and uttered those hurtful words in such sharp tone, into this gentleman, the invitation was softly spoken as if he’s being careful not to break his Baby. "What would you like?” He asks in what seems like a whisper right after kneeling in front of me, directly facing my bump, “Pancakes? Waffles? French toast?”Placing a palm on one side of the bump, he continues asking my stomach, “Or a steak?" then proceeds to chuckle at his own joke. I can’t help but to smile at this silliness because that was indeed a very bad joke but the way he tried to crack one with my tummy, it’s like watching a psychiatric patient talking to a wall.“Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ll make it a surprise.”He stands up and towers over me, the smiley face is gone the moment he looks at me. Huh, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde indeed. Who knew I’d be living in a famous storybook at the age of 33.
"You don't need to stab it further, the pig is already dead." He says nonchalantly seeing my fork keeps jabbing at the bacon without actually eating it. I roll my eyes and bring it to my mouth, "It should be the other pig who's dead, not this one."There's a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, acknowledging my statement. But then he continues eating the big breakfast on his plate while I resume playing with my food, not really having an appetite after spending an hour in the morning quarrelling with a pig. Half an hour later, while I'm still moving the food around the plate, the bell rings signalling there's somebody at the door. He stops sipping on the coffee from his mug and stands up, "Finish your breakfast," warning me once again before heading to the entrance. I watch his firm ass juggles with each confident stride, at the same time appreciating his muscled back, somewhat baffled at how confident he is to open the door in that barely-dressed state. But again, if I have a
I’ve been half-awake for quite some time; refusing to open my eyes eventhough I’m no longer sleeping. Lying on my right side, hugging a pillow close to my chest, a blanket covering my body up to my neck, I don’t think I’ll ever get up because this is a very comfortable position. What’s better is when she kicks, the palm that is resting on my baby bump would immediately rub the spot as to tone down the movement, telling her to take it easy. She would stop for a while, then kicks again, and the same thing repeats itself. I’m not sure how long did I nap but like I said, I’m not going to wake up anytime sooner, simply because I don’t really have anything going on today. For all I care, I can lie on this bed until tomorrow comes. Suddenly I hear a vibration sound that I’m pretty sure originated from his phone because a second later, the palm leaves my body as his deep voice answers the call, “Hmm.” As soon as he takes the palm, another one lands on the spot he left earlier. I’m guessi
"I'm going back tomorrow night." Let's just say I have accepted my fate about having to spend this long weekend with baby daddy so this is a heads up- he has another thirty hours to make the best of it before I go back to civilisation, where people understands what free-will is and actually respects it. "How about I send you home tomorrow morning?”“Eh?” My head snaps right at him upon hearing the suggestion, verifying if the person in the driver seat next to me is indeed Luca Sinclair, the possessive, super duper territorial Daddy-to-be. “Take what you need, I’ll send the movers to get the rest.”Okay that’s more like it, definitely the intolerable Luca Sinclair talking. Wait, WHAT? ‘I’ll send the movers to get the rest’ ? Is he toying with me? See how far he can push me before I lose my patience and finally have my palm does the justice by touching his cheek, hard? “You're moving in with me." He states without even looking at me eventhough I’ve been sta
The birthday party drained my battery that I remained on the bed from the moment we got home (we went back quite early actually but I needed to have an early night because of the tiring day) until the next day when his daughter woke me up with harsh kicks perhaps asking for food since I've been sleeping for twelve hours straight.It was still dark when I decided to leave the empty bed, and when I got downstairs, he was nowhere to be seen. Knowing my way in the kitchen, I filled a bowl with cereal and milk, eating while replying my mother’s text she sent last night when I already went to bed, telling her I'm going to be there in an hour to pick up the kids. The clock showed 6.50am but I would like to get a quick start today since I didn’t go home as planned; there’s a pile of laundry to be done, work clothes to be ironed, school stuff to be taken care of, all of these wouldn’t happen if I get to go home two nights ago. I’ve got to complete all the chores by today because it’s the last
“Yeah I still remember I went to your house some time ago. I played the video games and watched Ironman movie with you and my lil’ brother,” Liam being the chatty boy, talks to Luca with a palm forwarded to the front, imitating Ironman’s signature move. He is casually dressed in a pair of jeans and black t-shirt, making me wonder where his coat is. I mean, this is winter, in New York. Do you know how harsh winter in New York is? Sure it’s not as bad as the one in Russia or Siberia but we’re at the end of November, when the temperature starts going too low to roam around without a thick outer layer. Don’t tell me he’s been walking around in just those thin clothes? Perhaps he left his coat in the car? “It was so fun. I really had fun with you that day, I wish I can come over to your place again and play video games.” The eleven year old sighs. “You can come anytime, buddy,” he replies without realising I’m standing a few feet away watching them converse, “I don’t have anyone to pla
Pretty sure I heard him say he's moving in as in he's going to live here at this small two bedroom two bathroom apartment (which is like a quarter of the size of his current pent-house), located twenty minutes away from the office, foregoing his current residence that is right at the heart of the city, five minutes drive to the office. Uhh, come again? "I've been here a lot so I know there wouldn't be space for me," he continues without addressing the confusion that is obvious on my face right now with my jaw dropped to the floor, totally having a hard time digesting the news, "or for my stuff but I've settled that problem so I'll just move in one piece like this." First of all, I have a small bedroom that is very minimalistic with just the necessities; a Queen bed and a built-in wardrobe that is already full with my stuff. Back then when he used to stay here for a few days between his place and mine, he came with a small suitcase and lives with all his belongings remained in ther
As usual, I dread waking up early in the morning. I’m certainly NOT a morning person but now that I’m being pregnant with a night owl, bothering me till 2am last night, I dread it even more since I’m not getting enough sleep. Every school day, I would wake up at six to get ready. At six forty-five, when I’m all dressed up, I would wake the kids up so they can get ready while I prepare their lunch box. By seven-fifteen, all of us would hop into the car so I can drive them to school, which later I’d go to my office and clock in at eight. When the alarm blares at five-fifty, because I need ten minutes to fully awake before starting my day, Luca who’s lying next to me in another thick blanket (I was adamant about not sharing mine) groans in annoyance. “What time is it,” his deep, hoarse voice enquires in the dark as I sit up, about to leave the bed because it’s been ten minutes since the first alarm. “Six,” I answer while trying my best to remove his heavy arm that is trapping my abdo