Torn between risking it all and losing the man she loves, Ava must make a choice, but in the process of making this choice, Ava must accept the consequences of her actions and the damage that it leaves.
Series Order: Baby Steps, Colossal Jump, Movin...
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What feels like a soccer ball strapped to your stomach presents problems than I had anticipated. I wanted to run into Blake's arms and I wanted to jump onto the kitchen bench and watch Blake cook. However, I'm afraid of falling. The baby has grown bigger, which means there's more chance of harming our bub opposed to before.
Is it too late to crack out the bubble wrap? I'm basically a walking disaster. For my own good, I'm bound to the sidelines gazing over life bustling around me. Yes, it's a little dramatic as it's only been a week since I woke up.
Blake's afraid I'll break, though he should know by now, I don't break easily. If he keeps acting like I'll break, perhaps I'll believe I'm this flimsy piece of glass on the axe of breaking into a thousand pieces.
"What are you doing?" asks Blake.
With a slight shake to my head, I grab the plates off the table and scurry into the kitchen. Placing them into the sink, I start running the water as I search for the soap.
"Ava," he calls out. "You don't need to do the dishes."
"You cooked, so I'm cleaning up," I explain.
Blake races around the bench to get to me – almost like something terribly bad is about to happen. One hand rests on my hip and the other turns the tap off.
"I can do the dishes in the morning, hun," he explains, his warm breath tickling my neck from the close proximity.
"No." I shake my head. "I can do them now."
"Ava, please," softly begs Blake.
"Just let me do the dishes," I grumble.
I'm already tired of sitting idly – it's weird. I'm not a fragile child, I want to have responsibilities. I need to feel like I have a purpose to serve other than resting for the baby. The baby can rest in my stomach, I don't need to sleep for it to rest.
Blake's hand falls from my waist as he steps away. I hear the soft sound of his feet hitting the flooring before his body comes into view. He takes a seat on the stool and looks at me. Blake's green eyes search mine before his head drops low.
I refuse to say sorry for washing dishes. I refuse to be treated like I'm helpless.
Turning the water back on, I pour in a dash of soap. The liquid instantly turns into a mountain of bubbles from the running water. As the sink fills up, I grab the other utensils and plates to be washed.
Once the sink is filled, I turn the water off. I grab the first dish out and clean off the mess. Since I've rubbed Blake the wrong way, I shouldn't pester him with questions. But those unanswered questions burn my throat. I need to know what I've missed.
"So," I ponder aloud.
"So," murmurs Blake.
"I am curious." I smile. "What else happened when I was, eh, asleep?" I didn't want to say the word coma. It sends a shiver down my spine every time.
