Page 78 of Tear Me Down
“Wonderful. We’ll add that to the total. If you wouldn’t mind sending this number a text when you all are leaving so we know when we can turn the house over, that would be great.”
“Yes ma’am. Thank you.” I hang up the phone and put it back quietly, even though he doesn’t stir at all. He must be almost comatose if that didn’t wake him up. Normally, even if I move too much it wakes him up. Now that I’m awake, and not sure I can go back to sleep, I might as well be useful and get everything ready to go. That way he can sleep up until we leave.
I timidly ease away from him and rise from the mattress, but I have a hard time staying up. I’m still so shaky from last night. Grasping the bedside table, I stand straight, determined to get a hold of myself, but after only a few steps, I feel my stomach begin to turn. Carefully and quietly, I make my way to the bathroom, close the door as easily as I can, and throw my head over the toilet to retch.
This should have gotten better by now. I thought it was getting better a couple of weeks ago, but then it got worse again. Maybe I should go see my gastroenterologist. It’s been a couple years, but I'm sure he still remembers me,and as helpful as Derek has been, it’s not his specialty. Perhaps Damien is right, and I should be seen when we get home. I’ve been avoiding it, halfway afraid that something is actually wrong and it’s not just my old issues resurfacing, but it is time to address it. At least with some answers and a plan, our worries will be eased.
Once I get to the point where I'm not vomiting, I brush my teeth and examine myself in the mirror, looking over the beautiful damage from last night. I have teeth and other round shaped bruises trailing up and down my neck and shoulders, one even resembling his hand up towards my jaw, as well as on my hips and thighs from his strong grip. The inside of my legs looks like a battle ground between our shared arousal and the marks he left, but I don’t mind. I know he wasn't trying to hurt me, but he won’t see it that way. In the moment, his concern was marking me completely, proving once again to anyone who could possibly lay eyes on me that I belong to him, but once he wakes up and sees me like this, I know he’s going to be upset with himself.
I decide to take a quick shower in hopes that the warm water will soothe some of the marks and not make them look as angry as they do. The shower alone doesn’t feel as cold as it used to, knowing that he’s just in the other room and would join me if I wanted him to. I scrub myself clean, even though I know I’ll most likely still smell like him, and I feel so full that I’m sure he’ll leak from me even after I get out. But I need to start this day off right to keep him as stress free as possible before we return home.
After what I deem to be enough time under the hot water, I get out, dry off, and roll my suitcase over—pulling out some clothes for today and packing up everything else I can. As I get dressed, I notice my breasts are so sore from last night that I have to loosen my bra. Now that I think about it, they’ve been sore all week. Were we really that rough last night? All this week? That’s a dumb question becauseyes, we have been.
I put on the only outfit that I brought that could cover up most of the bruises, but even those feel tight. I'm so damn bloated today, that my jean shorts fit uncomfortably, so I just opt for my yoga shorts instead. His teeth marks on my thigh barely poke through the hem of the leg, so I settle for it and move on. Leaving out some clothes for him and his toothbrush, I pack up his things as well, making sure that there’s not much, if anything, that he has to do once he wakes up.
The next couple of hours go by pretty quickly as I quietly clean the rental house from our marathon last night. Of course, I stop in between to throw up and recompose myself. I drink some water and eat a small snack, hoping that will help ease it before Damien wakes up. Until we get home and I can get into see my gastroenterologist, I really need to try and keep it down for Damien’s sake.
As I finish wiping off the kitchen island, my phone is the next to vibrate, almost startling me. Once the brief shock wears off, annoyance crashes in, and my eyes roll. We haven’t ended our vacation yet, and the thought of someone trying to cut it short actually pisses me off. I pull it out anyway, and my aggravation is lifted when I see Serena’s name, and my hilarious, drunk picture of her, pop up on my screen. A soft giggle slips out, and I answer itanyway, because those two weeks of not seeing her name on my phone traumatized me enough.
“Hey, Ser.”
“Hey, girl! Soooo spill! How’s the lake?” she asks excitedly.
“Oh my God, it’s beautiful. We’ve had the best time. Damien took us out on a boat once, we danced under the stars, he set up a whole pillow area to watch movies, and we sat outside during the thunderstorms. It has been amazing. We pretty much just stayed here, and it’s been so relaxing.”
She hums in amusement.
“I can only imagine the unholy things that has happened in that house, on the boat, in the lake...” she draws out and we laugh, the sound warming my chest as I think of how grateful I am to have her back like this.
“You know it.”
She huffs and playfully groans.
“I'm so jealous! At least one of us got dick this week,” she whines.
“What do you mean? I thought you were trying to fix things with Carter?”
“I have been, but he doesn’t seem interested in talking much. He’s barely responded to me since the day Mom and Dad came to your house. Maybe Dad scared him, I don’t know,” she sighs and I laugh, because Richard is definitely the ‘stand on the front porch with a shotgun’ type of dad. “I guess I could call one of my old hookups, but I haven’t really been interested in fucking anyone else. Plus, I started my period, and you know I'm not a fan of having to clean that up, regardless of who I’m with.” I start to laugh again, that is until the realization that I haven’t had a real period in weeks slaps me across the face, and my stomach drops to the floor.
Oh, shit…
That would explain everything…
The nausea, the fatigue, how irritable and horny I’ve been, my boobs…
But I’m on birth control. I have been since the day after I met him, though I know it’s not one hundred percent effective, but what are the chances? I mean, what, one percent? Less than?
“Ash? Did I lose you?” Ser chimes in, sounding concerned.
“No, sorry. Um, just caught in a thought.” I say as I shake my head, trying to push the possibility ofthataway, but as the seconds tick by, it’s like an alarm blares in my mind. “Actually, can I ask you a medical related question?
She scoffs, and I can practically sense the eye roll from here.
“Bitch. You know better than to ask, what’s up?”
I swallow harshly, trying to keep my voice low and conceal the shakiness in it.
“Does the birth control pill stop periods completely?”
