The Weeping One (MXW)

Eviction

***Aubrey's POV***

I would love to say I have been an angel the last week and a half. I would love to. Like really love to. That would be a major lie.

I am miserable. My back hurts so bad. My butt feels like it is ripping in half. My breasts feel like overfilled water balloons. The babies are everywhere and it friggin hurts.

I am whiny. I am cranky. Worst of all, I complain. ALOT! I'm sure that everyone is ready for these precious pups to make an appearance. I know I am.

"I just want to walk." I sob.

"No." Luce denies me a simple human pleasure.

"You're mean. You are all awful." I whine pointing accusingly around the room at my friends.

"Probably." Claire giggles.

"I hope you get pregnant with quints." I scowl at Claire.

"Oh, I see the Queen is in a fantastic mood today." Jackson comes in rolling his eyes. He throws a wink my way.

I shot him two fucking birds.

"I just want to see my feet. I want to feel my own butt. I want to sleep in my bed." I argue. They can't possibly understand.

"A couple more days. You just have to wait." Brian is now tsking me.

"DARIUS!!!!" I yell into the air.

"Ah fuck, who pissed her off." Darius mumbles.

"I heard that." I slam my heel into the ottoman.

"Parvulus, what can I do to help you get more comfortable?" Darius pleads with me.

"Make love to me please. Hear me out. It's been weeks. Please. Please. Please." I beg.

"This is insanity." Darius huffs.

"What?" I ask.

"I can't even give you the smallest satisfaction." Darius complains.

"Call Dr. Christy. A few days may not matter." I bargain.

"I'm going to call her, but her word is final. Do you hear me parvulus?" Darius barters.

"Yeah, yeah. Get on the phone." I wave off my sexy man dismissively.

As it turns out, every day counts. Blah. Blah. Blah. So, here I am, bored. I have no less than three days left of utter torture. Don't hate me. I love my pups and I want what is best for them. The issue is, what is best for them is inconvenient for me.

Go figure!

I send everyone away so I can wallow in self-pity all by myself.

I swear to god I just heard Celine Dion sing that in my head.

After flipping through all the channels, surfing Netflix and Hulu and throwing the remote across the room (where I couldn't reach it) I give up.

I huff as I swap positions on the couch.

Left side, feet in my ribs.

Right side, feet in my ribs.

Back, feet in my ribs.

Ugh! I just want to walk.

I throw my head back and close my eyes.

Sometime between pitching fits and huffing, I must have fallen asleep. I wake to soft kisses on my eyelids.

"Amica Mea. Are you hungry?" My sexy as hell mate asks.

"No." I shake my head.

"Since when?" Jackson asks.