Page 62 of This Woman Forever

I roll my eyes. Of course she is.

The door opens behind me again, the lady appearing with some water. A doctor? I tilt my head in question, silently asking her what’s wrong with my wife. Of course, she doesn’t entertain me. “Can I get you anything?” she asks.

“It’s good, thank you. I’ve got her.”

She nods, that frown back, and leaves the ladies’.

“Here,” I say, putting the water in front of Ava, helping her take some. “Take as long as you need.” As long as she needs is a few sips and about thirty seconds. It’s not long enough.

“I’m good.” She takes some tissue from my hand and sniffs as I rise.

“Here.” She lets me help her up and also lets me fix her hair. I’m grateful. “Do you want some more water?”

She nods, accepting the glass and going to the sink, getting some fresh water and rinsing her mouth and generally doing what I just did—fixing her hair. It feels like a ploy to waste some time, and I know it is when her hands pause and she looks at me.

“Let me take you home,” I beg.

“Jesse, I’m fine,” she breathes. “Really.”

She’s maddening. She’s not fine, and I think I might blow my stack if she says it one more time. “Let me look after you,” I whisper, feeling at her cheek, watching her in the reflection trying her damnedest not to sink into my touch. She’s made her point. I get it. We need to move on.

“I’m okay.” She breaks away from me and picks up her bag.

“You’re not okay, Ava,” I grate, feeling my patience disappearing.

“Something hasn’t agreed with me, that’s all.”

I stare at her, absolutely staggered. Is she for real? “For fuck’s sake, lady,” I breathe. “You’re at the fucking doctor’s surgery, so don’t tell me you’re fine.” I’m at a fucking loss. I have to turn away from her, my temper threatening, my hair getting a punishing yank. I should be yanking Ava’s head out of the fucking hole she’s got it buried in.

“I’m not pregnant,” she says, sounding... upset?

“What?” I ask, facing her.

“I’ve had it confirmed, Jesse.”

What is the pain in my chest? “Then why are you throwing up all over the place?”

“I have a sickness bug. You failed. My period came.”

My eyes naturally drop to the skirt of her dress. I don’t understand. She’s not pregnant? “I’m not happy about this.” A bug? Where has she caught a bug? And what the fuck is it? Is it dangerous? Because this sickness thing is violent. “I’m taking you home where I can keep an eye on you.” And maybe get a second opinion. Does she need meds? A jab? I grab her hand, and she immediately yanks it back, her face a picture of disgust.

“You’re never happy with me,” she says, struggling to get her words out, her face still damp, her skin still pale. “I’m always doing something to upset you. Have you thought that perhaps you would be less not happy without me around?”

What the fuck? “No.” What is she saying? I’d be dead if it wasn’t for Ava. Literally. “I’m worried, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t be,” she snaps. “I’m fine.” She turns and walks out, leaving me, not for the first time today, stunned into silence and stillness. Doesn’t she want me to look after her?

That makes me redundant. Not required.

Ouch.

But is she serious? Does she really believe I’m never happy with her? All I want is her. She’s my world. That’s why I married her. That’s why I do every crazy thing. Less not happy without her around? I can’t believe she would say that. Whether rashly or not, in spite or not.

Ouch, ouch, ouch.

I eventually convince my legs to work and go after her, following her out of the building to the attached pharmacy, but I don’t go inside, leaving Ava to herself for a moment, hoping, maybe, she’ll take stock and come out feeling a bit more reasonable. So she’s got some medication for this bug?

Not pregnant?

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