Law of Attraction

Epilogue| Nyx

I was going to be so so fucking late. For the past week, they'd been hounding me; be there at one, Nyxie. It played in my head like a mantra, and I thought for sure I'd be on time. But it was past fucking twelve and I was only rolling over in bed now, cheerios stuck to my fucking forehead. With a disgruntled groan, I slipped out of bed and wiped the cereal from my head. Through dazed eyes, I glimpsed around the room, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. My eyes crash-landed on the clock and I freaked.

"Holy shit!" I launched to my feet, stubbing my big toe against the edge of the bed. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I bellowed, venturing to lift my foot to scrutinise the damage but, incidentally, forgetting that my stomach was the size of a fucking beach ball. I stifled the urge to sob, moving to my closet to get an outfit. There was no time to waste. Passing the mirror, I gawked at myself.

My hair was long and tangled after coming out of the bun I placed it in last night. There was chocolate on my face, I didn't know why. The strap of my bra was drooping off my shoulder, the material straining to support my milk-filled breasts. And the waistband of my shorts was rolled up just below where my stomach swelled forward. The skin was tight and smooth. I ran a hand over the humongous bump and found another cheerio stuck there. I popped it into my mouth before saying, "twenty-seven never looked this good."

In record time, I cleansed my face and changed into a flowy sundress because pants annoyed the fuck out of me with this bump the size of Jupiter. I slipped my feet into flats and grabbed my phone, dialling the familiar number. When he answered, he was already chuckling. I overcame the urge to scream when he said, "I'm assuming you only woke up now."

"Beckham, you absolute asshole. I hate you so fucking much, you two-faced piece of shit," I spluttered, studying the room for my bag. I needed to leave right now because I was not in the mood to be teased for being late.

He snorted, and I could hear the sound of cars in the backdrop. "I love you too, baby."

I screeched into my hand and he laughed, enjoying my frustration all too much. "Shut up. Where the fuck are you, bro?" Grabbing a brush, I put Beckham on speaker and quickly tamed my hair. "I was relying on you to wake me up."

He discoursed as I quickly made up the bed, disposing the stray cheerios into the bin. "I told you I had to drop my paperwork at the lab first thing in the morning." He didn't take offence at me not remembering. He knew all too well what pregnancy did to my brain. The other day I was sobbing because I couldn't find my shoes only for him to point out that I was already wearing them. "And I decided to save Eliza the effort, so I headed into town to pick up the cake. I'm on my way to her place right now. Think you can make it there in under five hours?"

I shook my head, snatching my bag and leaving the room. "I hate you so much."

Surprising almost everyone, Beckham didn't want to get drafted into the NHL. During his fourth year of university and my third, he discovered that he actually really enjoyed astrophysics and wanted to do it as more than just a hobby, like staring and documenting the stars, he wanted more than that. He did his masters in astrophysics the following year whilst I obtained my Bachelor's in Sports Management. It took him one year to complete his masters because he'd graduated with honours like the fucking asshole he was.

The idiot was currently in his second last year of studying to get his PhD. A lot of it revolved around him working as a research assistant at a private lab. The little nerd that he was. It didn't take me long to get picked up and I could boastfully say that I was the PR manager of the Westport Warriors, a local team that finally got drafted this year after years of hard work. Too bad my assistant had to fill in for me now that I was nearing the end of my pregnancy.