Page 107 of Red Flagged
“Absolutely not.”
“Don’t lie. This is romantic as hell.”
“If anyone’s officiating our wedding, it has to be Kimi.”
“You’re right. Marco and Ivy will be too busy making googly eyes at each other to pay attention.” He rubbed a slow, grounding circle between my shoulder blades. “We’ll pencil them in for the honeymoon slideshow commentary instead.”
I opened my mouth to answer, and then froze, because that’s when I felt it.
The…squish.
My stomach plummeted. I looked down, piecing together what I was wearing. The bulky, white fabric was unmistakable now, cinched high on my hips beneath the oversized T-shirt. A dark stain was blooming near the seam of the leg hole, soaking through.
Oh no.
Ohno no no.
I turned sharply, pressing my back to the tiled wall and burying my face in my hands with a mortified groan. “Don’t look at me.”
“Why?”
“Because,” I mumbled, barely able to speak as heat flooded my face, “I’m wearing a fuckingdiaper.”
There was a pause. Then he blurted, “Technically, that’s an adult incontinence brief.”
“Callum.” I dropped my hands to glare at him, pulling my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. He kneeled in front of me.
“It’s very medical.”
“CallumJames.”
“I’m just saying?—”
“I swear to God, if you laugh, I will smother you with it.”
He bit his lip, but the smile cracked through. “My bride,” he said reverently, and somehow his eyes managed to fuckingtwinkle, “inPampers.I kind of think it’s hot.”
“Please let the earth swallow me whole.”
“Not happening.” He rose to his feet, grabbing my arms on his way up and hauling me to my feet. I swayed, but he held me firmly against him. “You’re stuck with me.”
“I hate everything,” I muttered, dropping my head to his chest. “Except you.”
“Same,” he said, too brightly. I leaned back to look up at him. He reached for a towel and gently wiped my mouth like I hadn’t just projectile sob-vomited in front of him.
“Thank you,” I whispered, voice hoarse, heart aching. “For showing up. For comforting me and not making me feel worse. For making this a little easier to…digérer?Digest. Fuck. You know what I mean. I’m too tired to English, and everything hurts.”
He smiled, softer this time. “I’d show up for you a thousand times, mon cœur. In every version of this life.” He tucked my hair behind my ears. “You never have to go through anything alone again.”
I stepped out of his arms, the absence of his touch jarring. My feet shuffled forward through the bathroom, and I turned slowly to take in the full mess. The bathroom was soft and warm, muted creams, pale rose tiles, hardwood floors, the countertop a cool marble veined with gray. And it was marred by the bloody towels heaped by the shower, the trash bin overflowing with toilet paper, wrappers, tampons, and pads, a used diaper on top.
Seeing the evidence of what was happening—on the shower tile, the hardwoods, the counter—felt like standing in the aftermath of a storm I hadn’t survived. The proof of it was everywhere. I’d lost something, and the universe had the audacity to leave it behind for me to clean up.
A sigh deflated out of me. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I just… I couldn’t stay awake through the pain. I needed to sleep it off.”
His answer came without hesitation. “I’d rather see it and be here than not know at all.”
Without being asked, Callum joined me by my side and grabbed one of the cleaner hand towels, running it under the faucet. He moved with practiced ease—shoulders tense, brow furrowed, jaw tight—but he didn’t flinch at the sight of the blood. He just wiped slowly, gently, cleaning the worst of it from the vanity’s edge. Like it didn’t scare him and none of this made him love me less.
