Page 64 of Pulled By the Tail
Chapter 14
Georgia
G,
Don’t you dare have that baby without me.
-Freema
After two days, the general misery of constantly itching abated and her skin cleared somewhat. Angry red patches still graced her hands and arms. She applied the anti-itch cream in a thick layer, pushing up the sleeves of her sweater while the cream dried.
The steroids made sleep impossible. Exhaustion had a tight grip on her but even when she lay down in her comfortable bed, she couldn’t sleep.
The enforced bedrest was worse than the itching and the sleeplessness. Having nothing to do but watch films or read sounded delightful, but nothing held her interest. Her mind kept drifting to the baby—the kit.
First impression: fear. She wasn’t a grown-up or responsible and under no circumstances should she be allowed to be in charge of another person, especially an infant.
Second impression: excitement. This wasn’t the plan. It was an accident, chance, luck, and a fluke.
And she liked it.
So that’s where she was, deciding that the pregnancy was scary but good. Lots of expecting mothers probably felt the same. She and Talen still had lots of decisions to make, but she had a client meeting. The baby drama could wait.
Georgia opened the door to her office in the servant’s quarters, slapped the control panel to turn on the lights, and shouted, “Oh shit!”
As if by magic, Talen thundered down the narrow stairs. “What? What has happened? Are you injured?”
She held her hand out like it was poisonous, because it was. “Did anyone clean the office? I didn’t tell you I went in there, but I did to make the tree topper. Shit. I re-exposed myself.” More itching. More angry red splotches on her hands.
“Do not panic. We will handle this,” he said, and she believed him.
He led her upstairs to the scullery adjacent to the kitchen and carefully washed her hands. He patted the skin dry and applied a layer of the prescription cream.
“Let that absorb. I will clean all the surfaces in the office.” He grabbed a container of cleanser and disposable towels. “Is there anything else you touched?”
“The banister on the stairs. The light switch in the hall.” She sat at the worn kitchen table, her arm extended, and palm turned upward, inordinately angry with herself. She knew better. Had she taken a moment to think, she’d be organizing price quotes and not being such a useless lump.
“I don’t like that look. Stop thinking negatively about yourself,” Quil said, settling into the chair next to her. He plucked a bright green citrus fruit from a bowl and pierced it with a claw. The tang of citrus filled the air. “It does no one any good.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Right now, you’re berating yourself because, in all that has happened in the last forty-eight hours, you forgot to clean a lamp or a tablet. Am I right?”
“A doorknob.”
“Slice?” He offered her a segment of the green fruit. She took a piece, knowing it looked like a lime but had a much sweeter, mellow flavor.
“So, have you considered baby names? Because I’d humbly suggest that Tranquility is an admirable name for an infant, especially for tired parents who desire sleep. I’d be honored, of course, and flattered.”
Georgia dropped her half-eaten piece of fruit. “How did you know? Talen swore he wouldn’t tell.”
“Relax. He has not broken your confidence.” Quil popped a segment into his mouth and chewed slowly, drawing out the moment. The man lived to make drama. She really hated him at times. “Who do you think picked up your medications? The pieces were not difficult to assemble.”
“So, you know.” Which meant that Fiona knew, which meant everyone in the house and the surrounding countryside knew.
“In all fairness, Bright had her suspicions weeks ago.”
“Yeah. I told her it was impossible,” she said.
