Mr. Grey-Book I

28

Emilia

We spent nearly half the day together. I kept expecting Damien to revert to his old self and ask me to leave, but he never so much as hinted at it. Instead, he remained curled up in the chair, his arms loosely wrapped around me. I didn't know what this meant, but I had to constantly remind myself that he was engaged and I was only a surrogate. This meant nothing. We were just two lonely souls seeking comfort.

"So warm..." he mumbled into my hair, slowly drifting off to sleep.

He was clearly exhausted. He murmured a few more unintelligible words while nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck. I carefully slid away from him and gently laid him back on the couch, unable to carry him to the bed by myself.

Kneeling beside him, I studied his face, tracing my fingers across his features. He looked so peaceful and young when he slept, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

With a weary sigh, I stood up and walked over to the bed to gather some pillows and a duvet for him. That's when my eyes landed on his pill bottle, sitting neatly on the bedside table.

"Shit," I cursed under my breath, remembering Suzan had asked me to give them to him before he slept. I glanced back at his sleeping self on the couch. He looked so quiet; I couldn't bear to wake him now. I decided to give him the pills when he woke up, but curiosity got the better of me. I picked up the bottle and examined the label before opening it.

I immediately recognized them as vitamins, the same ones Dr. Jones had prescribed for me. But strangely, there was a different description on the bottle. I didn't think it was anything. I carefully placed it back.

Returning to Damien, I tucked him in, surrounding him with pillows in case he rolled off during the night. I quietly shut the door and made my way to the kitchen, suddenly craving ice cream.

My cravings had been getting worse lately. I'd spent the whole afternoon yearning for burnt pizza – who even eats that? I entered the kitchen to find Suzan peering into the oven.

"I didn't think you'd still be awake," I said, opening the fridge and reaching for a bowl of delicious chocolate ice cream.

"I'm making chicken lasagna," she replied simply, her back still turned to me. The mere mention of it made me feel slightly nauseous. "I assume Damien is sleeping?"

"Yes, he's exhausted," I sighed, taking a seat. She turned and raised an eyebrow at the large bowl of ice cream in my hands.

"Don't judge me, it's what the tot wants," I said playfully, though my tone lacked its usual energy.

She laughed softly. "It's normal. How far along are you anyway?"

"Two months and three weeks," I replied, "but I swear it feels like an eternity already."

"First pregnancies always feel that way, dear," she said with an encouraging smile, instantly reminding me of our awkward encounter that morning.

"Suzan, about earlier, I—" I started, but she stopped me.

"It's fine," she assured me. "That's the happiest I've seen him in a while, and it makes me very happy. That boy has been through enough." Her voice took on a sad tone. "A little happiness would do him good."

I felt my heart break at her words. "Why won't he talk about it?" I asked, frustration seeping into my voice. "Has anyone even considered taking him to therapy?"

She chuckled slightly. "We're talking about a stubborn grown man, not some child. Plus, Damien has been to a thousand therapies as a kid."

True, but there's no harm in trying to convince him, I thought.

The oven dinged, turning off. "Finally," Suzan said, turning to it. She slipped on an oven mitt and pulled out the chicken lasagna, placing it on the counter. "You should try taking him down to the pool house tomorrow," she suggested while cutting a portion of the lasagna onto a plate.

"There's a pool house?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, behind the house. I'm sure he'd enjoy it. He used to love swimming as a child," she said with a smile as she placed a plate of chicken lasagna in front of me.

At the mere sight of it, my stomach lurched. I began to feel nauseous and paler than a sheet of paper. "Emilia, are you okay?" Suzan asked worriedly.

I nodded weakly. "I think I should just call it a day," I said, standing up. She nodded understandingly. "I'll be here if you need anything."

I managed a half-smile and turned to leave, but with each step, my stomach tightened and ached more intensely. I kept swallowing as my throat clenched, but I couldn't stop the warm feeling rising through my chest.

"Um..." I choked out, covering my mouth. I tried to run upstairs, but I barely made it to my room before I felt something slide down my legs. My face paled as it dawned on me.

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