C.E.O Piggy

⇠Recovery Plan⇢

A few days passed; my fever finally went down to a comfortable temperature which Christopher didn't think I'd die if left alone. I was finally as well able to keep more than liquids down, which my stomach was happy about. Pushing myself off the couch, I walked into the kitchen, my stomach growling lowly. "A small meal won't hurt, don't want to starve," I whispered patting the small curve of my stomach. I pulled open the fridge, grabbed the grilled cheese and soup Christopher made a few nights prior, then popped it into the microwave to take the chill off.

Once done, I scooped the remote off the counter and returned to the living room. Exhaling softly, I stared at my stomach. Since I fell ill, I had lost a considerable amount of weight, Christopher tried his best to reassure me that it'd be easy to gain back. The younger male already expressed he had many plans since we'd decided to keep gaining. With rules now in place, of course, pushing the thoughts to the back of my head and started eating.

I made it through the first sandwich before my phone started buzzing next to me. Picking it up, I swallowed thickly. It was a text from my parents, normally I'd delete the text toss my phone to the side, and move on. But no, this text unfortunately this one couldn't be ignored, "We're in town, want to see you." One phrase caused my heart to drop down to my stomach. My body started eating up, my ears began to ring, and nausea filled the pit of my stomach. Saliva filled my mouth; my brain couldn't make up its mind if it wanted to throw up or pass out.

There were so many cards I could play with, but the problem was if I chose the wrong one my parents were smart enough to tell when I was lying. Even through text, I ran a hand through my hair letting out a small sigh. I could play the sick card, technically a lie, just because I was getting better didn't mean I was out of the woods yet. I stared at the screen for what felt like hours before the device buzzed in my hand. "We're having dinner at Piazzi's; I know it's your favorite. Bring the boy." The text read.

The world seemed to freeze; they knew about Christopher. Half of me wanted to throw the device across the room, putting my hands over my ears and ignoring the buzzing. Deep down I hoped they meant assistant, but logically half of my brain knew that the Morningstar's were too punctual. They didn't believe in speaking like the lower class, they were bred to be rich, and they were bred to keep the line going too. Until I came around.

I slowly clicked on the screen, exhaling before typing: "Would love to see you, mom. But I caught a stomach bug, and I'm already behind on all the Christmas paperwork." I lied. After I pressed the scent, I glanced down at the half-eaten sandwich scrunching my nose up. I set the plate to the side, and as my phone buzzed harshly, rolling my eyes I blew out air. It was probably one of my parents sending me a list of things to do and eat. Even at twenty- Eight, they ruled my life, I had moved halfway around the world and somehow, they still controlled everything. I quickly scrolled down my contacts until I found Christopher's name.

Me: Parent's known about us.

Christopher: Knows what?

Me: Us....Christopher. Do I need to spell it out for you?

Christopher: Don't give me that tone for starters, secondly. I guess that's better than them knowing about the other thing.

Me: Not Good! My last relationship, ended just because she owned a bakery, and I gained a few pounds.

Christopher: Blakey, you're fine. We'll wear a hoodie. You're twenty- Eight years old, your parents can't be that bad.

Me: Christopher, my parents are the richest people in the world. Hoodies aren't an option here, and we are way past hiding this gut with a hoodie.

Christopher: Now I want to put you in one and feed you until it rips.

Me: This isn't the time to be cute and sexy. I am freaking out!

Christopher: What did they want?

Me: Dinner...

Christopher: Oh, well that's easy. I'll feed you when you get home.

Me: With both of us Chris...

Christopher: Oh, that changes things. Maybe it'll be fine. I would love to know more about them and you.

Me: You could ask.

Christopher: Would you tell me the truth?

Me: ...

Christopher: Exactly, listen it will be fine. If they get too bad, then we'll leave, and you can cry on my shoulder and eat ice cream. Maybe try that hoodie idea. Promise.