The Clinch

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Being four months pregnant sucks, honest to god. I'm experiencing cravings and mood swings and serious morning sickness. It's unattractive for a start, but it's physically draining to have to slog my guts out first thing every morning. I'm inexorably miserable.

Gabriel's over the moon that our baby has eyelashes and nails and hair and what not, and he's proudly been showing everybody the sonogram image of our baby sucking its thumb for the first time. Of course he's all smiles; he hasn't got four pounds of baby pushing down on his bladder and making it so that he has to go to the bathroom every two hours.

The bump is also a lot more noticeable so I've had several people daily thinking it's their human right to touch my stomach. And if that's not insufferable, I don't know what is.

Anyway, way to spoil the mood. I can't believe I'm grousing about my hormones and pregnancy gripes when Gabriel's about to undergo the biggest fight of his career. The media and everybody who's in the circuit has been hyping this gig for the past three months with posters and flyers and what not, and Gabriel has hardly been home because if he's not at work, he's training like a beast.

When he steps into the ring, the crowds go wild about the same time that my heartbeat lurches in my throat. He's got that confident swagger of his on and that determined look in his eyes that just makes me flame up. I'm trying to come up with reasons as for why I shouldn't climb into that ring and jump his bones in front of all these people. Sadly not a single reason appears good enough to excuse the public indecency.

Meeting my gaze in the crowd, Gabriel beckons me forward from my seat and I meet him at the edge of the ring, effortlessly jumping up onto the edge of the stage as I hang onto the ropes. I smile at him. "You do your best out there, Hercules. Make us proud."

He chuckles and rests his hands on the rope on either sides of mine before swooping down and mating his mouth with mine. The crowd soars with cheers and whistles at the display and we both chuckle as we withdraw. "Will do princess. Mark my words; I'm bringing home a belt for my girl tonight!"

"You do that and I'll be a very happy woman." Fluttering my lashes up at him, I hop down from the edge of the ring before he can steal another kiss and I saunter away back to my seat with the rest of our gym lot leaving Gabriel in a frustrated mess up on stage.

Good. It'll give him incentive to win.

A couple of the guys in our crowd jeer at me and tussle my hair for the PDA whilst I blush profusely. The boxing media is alive with rumours and stories of Gabriel's and I's relationship and the exposure has only been adding to the amount of teasing I've been receiving as of late. Also a few sports company's have even come forwards and asked to sponsor us; together. Of course the answer had been no; what with the pregnancy and all, and Gabriel had kind of gone off to do his own thing. But I could only imagine the amount of attention we'll receive from sponsor deals looking to market the baby sports angle too.

"And facing Azazel tonight, the beast from the east... Hunter!"

We all rise to our feet and boo and hiss as Hunter enters the ring, stamping our feet on the floor in revolt as his huge bulk ducks under the ropes. He's larger than Gabriel in width and muscle brawn, but he's a couple of inches shorter than Gabriel's impressive height and he looks nowhere near as agile as my Hercules.

"Five rounds boys, and we'll be keeping points" the announcer declares as he makes the men meet in the centre of the ring to bump gloves before going back to their respective corners to don their gum shields. No expenses had been spared for the safety and stability of Gabriel's equipment - we don't want a repeat of the Reagan situation - but that still doesn't mean that I'm any less scared for his well-being.