Overprotected

Chapter Thirty-One

Eight months later...

I walk into the kitchen, prepared to start dinner. I reach over my baby belly, trying to grab the seasoning for the steak I'm making.

"Ugh!" I growl as the seasoning slips and spills on the raw steak. "Guess that corner will be a little... Spicy."

My feet hurt. My back hurts. My everything hurts. I'm exhausted. And emotional. The other day, Bryce dropped one of our water glasses and it shattered, pushing me into tears. I had exploded at him for forgetting to wipe his feet when he came in, and given him the silent treatment when he couldn't find the TV remote, which ended up being under the pillow.

    In short, he's put up with a lot of crap from me, and been an angel.

    I finish seasoning the steak, and then feel a contraction hit me. I lean on the counter, close my eyes, and breathe through it. They have been coming sporadically, not labor but beginning contractions. I'm due in two weeks.

    When I raise my head after the contraction ends, I move too abruptly and knock the bottle of seasoning on the ground, where it shatters, sending tiny flakes of dried spices the size of pepper in three hundred directions.

    "Oh. My. Gosh. I don't know how I'm going to clean this up!" I feel angry tears pricking my eyes. "Look at this!" I say to my stomach. "What a mess!"

    I hear the front door open. "I'm home!" Bryce sings out. He comes in and stops short. "Uh-oh." He puts an arm around me. "Hey, it's okay-"

    "Don't touch me!" I shriek, jerking away. "I have to clean this up!"

   "No, it's okay, I'll take care of it. Come on, come sit on the couch and rest, put your feet up-" he guides me to the living room, but as soon as he seats me I spring up again. "No no! I have that huge mess to clean up-"

    Bryce rolls his eyes back into his head. "Lexi, I will clean it up. It's just seasoning, I'll take care of it." He pushes me back onto the couch.

    I sit unwillingly, and observe as he sweeps the spices into a dustpan. "Yuck," I comment, wrinkling my nose. "The whole house reeks of parsley."

    Bryce stands. "That will wear off. Now," he squats and stares me in the eye. "I'm going to change and shower. When I come back down, you better still be chilling on this couch."

     I nod, but five minutes after he's gone I can't take it. I have dinner to cook, and a salad to make. I can't just sit around.

     I shuffle into the kitchen and pick up the steak, heading outside into the warm spring evening to put it on the grill.

     I'm standing there, staring as the flames lick the meat when I hear the glass door slide open.

    "Lexi," Bryce says admonishingly. "I told you to stay put. You need to rest!"

    I put my face in my hands. "Don't scold me!" I sob. "My whole house smells like steak seasoning, I have a whole dinner to cook and I'm due in two weeks! Don't scold me!"

     Bryce turns off the grill, puts the meat on a plate and takes my elbow, seating me at the kitchen table. "I'll finish dinner, you sit here and observe."

     When we do finally sit down to eat, Bryce bites his meat and makes a face, wisely not saying anything. I try a piece. Apparently I spilled way more seasoning than I thought. "Oops," I mumble. "This is awful."

    "It's not that bad..."

   "It's awful."

    "It's awful." He finally says ruefully.