The Hot Doctor

Chapter 63

ALEXANDRIANNA POV

A couple of mornings later, I sit in the bed, and I smile once I see the vase of roses on the bedside table. There's a sticky note on the vase, and I carefully take it off and read it.

You really deserve these. Just to take your mind off everything that happened, and just because I wanted to spoil you.

I sigh, and inhale the slightly aphrodisiac like aroma of the roses. The petals feel like silk as they glide across my cheek, and I grin as I stare at them. They're such a beautiful red color, and I can tell that the roses are fresh and won't wilt anytime soon. The flowers that Rian gets me always last for a long time, so I know that these will be the same.

Everything from a couple of days ago begins to play in my head, from us finding out the gender of our baby, to our day being completely ruined because my mother decided to be at the hospital.

I hate her.

I loathe my mother beyond comprehension.

I erase the thoughts of her face grimacing in pain from my mind, and I begin to smell the roses again. The scent causes me to smile to myself, and how Rian was worried about me so he decided to buy me these roses.

I hear Bruno whining in the hallway, so I put the roses down to see what's wrong with him. Bruno stands there, and his wrinkly face droops down more than normal, and it's adorable.

"What's wrong, buddy?" I ask in a high pitched voice.

Bruno just tilts his head, and he sits down in the middle of the hall. I see Rian turn from around the corner, and we smile at each other. I walk towards him, and I hug him tightly.

"Thank you for the roses. They're beautiful." I say, smiling into his chest.

"You're welcome." Rian says with a smirk, and he kisses my forehead.

"And thanks for the concern. I'm—," I pause, because I have to think about how I feel. "I don't know how I am."

Rian's smile turns into a concerned frown, and he grabs my hand before leading me into the bedroom. Bruno follows behind us, and he runs over to the bed and leaps on it before snuggling with Rian's pillow.

We sit next to each other on the edge of the bed, and Rian still holds onto my hand. His other hand holds onto my thigh, and I shiver when his cool fingertips make contact with my skin.

"Do you want to talk?" Rian asks, and I hesitate to answer.

"Yes and no. It's just that I don't want to upset you or anything." I mumble, and I avoid looking at him.

When we left that hospital, we barely said a word to each other or looked at each other. If we did, the words or glances were fleeting and distant. The blue in his eyes looked cold and uninviting, which is the complete opposite.

Rian saw a different side of me yesterday, and I know for sure that he isn't a fan of the malevolent and vindictive version of myself, either. I can tell that he's annoyed with how querulous I've been lately, but the pregnancy is taking a larger toll on me than I though.

The hormones, the cellulite, the varicose veins and hemorrhoids, and the plethora of other things that have come with the pregnancy.