“Jesus, Georgia girl, you’ve known this woman much longer than I have, and I expect that kind of experience to mean something.”
“I’ve never been fluent in Crazy, and I never will be. You married her. You figure it out.”
“Ugh, fine. But at least tell me this… What do you think the statistics are for women killing their husbands during their pregnancies? Just give me an idea of what I’m working with here. Twenty? Fifty? Seventy-percent likelihood?”
“Thatch, Cassie isn’t going to murder you.”
“Georgia, you’re not here,” I retorted on a sigh. “You haven’t seen her eyes. This is more than the usual I’m so funny crazy eyes. This is like my wife is being possessed by a psychotic Shonda Rhimes, and any second, she’s going to decide that I’m the next character who needs to be killed off. But only, this isn’t a fucking TV show, Georgie. It’s my life. My actual life. I’m not even going to live to see the day my son is born. I’m going to—”
“Thatch!”
“What?”
“Take a breath,” Georgia said, her voice all soft and calm. The complete opposite of how I was feeling. “I can imagine that fluctuating pregnancy hormones in Cassie is one hell of a ride—”
“One hell of a ride?” I repeated, cutting her off completely. “Georgia, if hell had a Disney World, it’d be this.”
“Thatch, it’s going to be okay. But first, you need to relax. Seriously. Breathe.”
When I didn’t respond, she said it again.
“Just breathe. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth.”
Eventually, I listened and took a few big inhales of air into my tight lungs and let them out on lengthy exhales.
“Okay. That’s good. Great, even. How are you feeling?”
“Still scared.”
She laughed at that.
“It’s not funny, Georgia. I’m walking on eggshells over here just to avoid getting the shank. I’d rather be in Rikers Island. At least criminals have a certain code of honor.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Just the…situation.”
“Which is zero fluffing help,” I remarked. “Any second now, when she’s done taking her anger out on the pickles, she’ll come looking for me.”
Georgia snorted, and I sighed, dropping my head back.
“Georgia girl, you’re doing a real shit job of helping.”
“I’m sorry! It’s just that this is pretty fucking hilarious.”
“It’s not funny!”
“Oh, but it is,” Kline chimed in, and that was when I realized I’d been on speakerphone the whole time. The bastard.
“Are you two done?” I questioned. “Or do you need to laugh it up some more? Before you answer that, I should remind you that the clock is ticking, and every second that passes is one second closer to your being accessories to murder.”
Kline chuckled.
Georgia giggled.
And I almost hung up on them, but my asshole best friend eventually chose to impact some of his wise words of wisdom.
“It sounds to me like this could be one of two things, or maybe a combination of both.”
“Okay…?”
“Either Cassie is just experiencing a very strong increase in pregnancy hormones, or something is bothering her and she doesn’t know how to tell you. So, instead, she’s lashing out over random shit like cheese.”
“But what in the fuck could be bothering her? We just got married. We’re going to have a baby. The Supercock is keeping up with all her sexual demands. I mean, life is pretty fluffing good right now.”
“Yeah, but you two have had a lot of big changes,” Georgia offered. “And sometimes, it just takes a little bit to adjust to them, you know?”
Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that.
“Thatcher!” Cass’s voice filled my ears, and I jumped like I’d just been caught robbing a fucking bank. “Where the fluff are you?”
“You still there?” Georgia asked, and I quickly ended the call without another word. I’d rather get dragged through the desert at high noon by a hang-up-fueled-vengeance-seeking Kline than risk Cassie hearing my voice.
Phone call ended, I made a show of washing my hands for no fucking reason other than making it believable that I wasn’t in the bathroom without just cause via voiding fluids.
“Thatcher!”
“I’m in the bathroom, honey!” I called out. “Be out in a sec!”
You got this, dude. Just go out there and be normal. It’s going to be okay. Your wife isn’t going to kill you.
After a few deep breaths and fake punches toward the mirror, I mentally prepared myself to leave the safe confines of our bathroom.
Hesitantly, I walked back down the hallway and into the living room, and that was where I found her sitting on the couch, eating the pickles she’d just chopped up. Thankfully, the knife was nowhere in sight.
Okay. This is good. I can work with this. I am Alpha, hear me roar.
I sat down beside her, and she mindlessly offered me a spicy pickle with her free hand.
Pickles were the last thing I wanted to eat right now, but I took it anyway, popping it into my mouth and making a show of chewing it. “Mmm, delicious. Thanks, honey,” I said and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.
She flashed a grin at me, as if she hadn’t just had a complete psychotic episode fifteen minutes before, and went back to watching the National Spelling Bee.
“Let’s go, Amir! You got this! Spell the fluffing sneakers out of this word!” she cheered, and I carefully wrapped my arm around her shoulders and tucked her close to my side.
I was fucking starving and I wished I could get up and order a pizza or something, but I ignored the hunger and stayed sitting with Cass while she ate more pickles than one person had ever dared to consume in one sitting.
Also, I prayed that Amir didn’t fuck up his word.
C’mon, you little genius, I’m counting on you.
Thankfully, the boy wonder was successful in his spelling endeavors, and as he walked back to his seat with applause following him, the show paused for a commercial break. I had never been so relieved to see those fucking Charmin bears rubbing their asses on trees in my whole life.
But when Cass turned toward me, finally done with her pickles, and locked her gaze with mine, my spine went straight, and every muscle in my body tensed up.
Please let nothing be wrong…please let nothing be wrong… I’m too young to die…
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quiet as a whisper. “I know I went a little crazy before, and… I’m sorry.”
Oh, thank everything.
Instantly, I let out the breath I was holding tight in my lungs.
“It’s okay, honey,” I reassured her. Even though I was quite literally worried she was going to stab my dick, I refused to do anything but accept her apology. Water under the bridge. That was my motto.
Her lip quivered and her eyes welled with tears, and it made my heart fucking break.
“Honey,” I whispered and pulled her into my lap. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just…” She paused and buried her face into my shoulder.