Page 17 of Unbound

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Sterling shakes his hand.

“Jody got a few pictures. Give her your email address, and she’ll send them to you.”

Sterling writes it down on a Post-it note and thanks her.

“You two are adorable,” Jody adds on as she walks us out of the office and back toward the lobby.

“Thank you, ma’am. Have a great day,” Sterling says before leading me out to the truck and opening my door.

I’m too stunned to respond.

I climb into the vehicle, wondering if I’m even awake right now. This feels like a dream. He climbs into the driver’s side and starts the truck.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I feel myself nodding without even looking his way. He doesn’t ask again.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Being pregnant has brought on some strong hormonal urges that I’ve never dealt with before in my life.

All I can think about is sex.

Correction: all I can think about is climbing my roommate/fake husband like a tree.

Sterling has this thing about not putting a shirt on after he showers. It’ll be forty degrees outside, and he just walks around the house in only his sweatpants.

I’m getting increasingly more frustrated about how my thoughts are constantly in dark, filthy places when it comes to him. I have no way of finding relief. It feels like I’m circling a drain, never going down it.

Finally, I reach my wits’ end. He comes out of the bathroom, groaning in a way that makes my toes curl.

“That smells amazing. I’m starving.”

He hovers behind me, where I’m stirring the mashed potatoes, and dips his finger into them. He lifts it up to his mouth and licks it off.

“Mmm, that tastes so damn good. What’s in it?”

Heat crawls up my neck. I genuinely think I might have a fever.

“Butter, garlic, milk, potatoes, and spices.”

He dips his finger in again. I swat his hand away a little harder than I intended to. Mashed potatoes splatter across the countertop. He chuckles, wiping up the mess with a paper towel.

“Sorry, I’m starving,” he says.

I’m the one who should apologize, but I can’t find the words.

We’ve fallen into a comfortable routine. He goes to work every morning before I wake up. I spend the day cleaning, baking, and wandering around his house and yard.

When he gets home from work, we eat dinner together, and he asks if I’ve gone outside or gotten any exercise. Then we take a walk around the neighborhood before watching a movie.

His phone rings as I’m pulling the salmon out of the oven.

“Hey, Duke,” he says. “Yeah, I’m at home right now, about to eat dinner.”

He puts the phone on speaker. I glance over as a male voice comes through the phone.

“You mean, you’re about to eat a tray of microwaved shit?”