Page 356 of Bride of Choice

That night, as I snuggled down on my respective sleep mat, I gave up waiting for him to make a move, knowing good and well it just wasn’t his way and this waiting him out thing was just stupid and silly. Eyeing him, I stood and grabbed my things to drag them next to his sleeping spot.

Roling to face away from him, I scooted until our backsides touched.

I was still upset with him but I needed to feel him next to me. Sad mad, mad-mad, bad mad be damned.

Closing my eyes, I listened as Buu shifted. Feeling like I was being watched, I assumed he was glancing at me from over his shoulder.

“Night,” I mumbled tiredly, then dragged my pelts up a little higher.

I was drifting off to sleep before he could respond.

???

Ice melting via cave fire felt an awful lot like watching paint dry.

Days. This was going to take days, maybe weeks, not some go to sleep and wake up, it’s magically all good and we can head out and just take off kinda sitch.

Anxious as I was to pass by and see the passageway cleared to exit, I had this weird, nagging anxiety about all of it. That nagging anxiety dogged me as the days passed.

So many unknowns, too many what ifs. A part of me was scared. Very scared.

The Joanie that was taken wasn’t the same Joanie that had survived and ended up here. Not by a longshot. It took a Krampus kidnapping and almost death to break my ass. If it were alive to gloat about it, it could pat its crazy ass on the back over the feat. I couldn’t explain it. I just… felt different. Would they like me as I am now, my guys? Would they think less of me that I not only tolerated Buu’s pseudo deceit but a part of me understood it from his perspective? Not that I was giving him a pass or anything— keeping the fact he could leave the cave from me was messed up. What would I do if I was all alone and finally found someone that turned out to be my forever someone, and they wanted to leave me and go back to their other family that I feared may or may not accept me?

I just… kinda, sorta, understood his fear of being all alone, being without any being— let alone beings, counting Bump— he cares about. Dare I say it, without the woman he loves?

We haven’t said the words yet. I know it’d need to be prompted on my end. To expect him to just know the phrase and understand human romantic notions, ideas, etc, would be a little ridiculous.

I feel like he’s been giving me space lately, or maybe more aptly he’s pulling back? I don’t know anymore.

I’ve given up putting any space between us while we sleep, thinking maybe that’s something he needed, though. It was the absolute opposite of what I needed. I needed him.

We are now full time sleeping cohabitors, sleep buddies, sleepover amigos, however you’d like to label it.

We haven’t been intimate since before all this keep me locked in bologna and the gap feels like it’s growing and growing and I’m just lost on how to fix it.

There’s distance on both ends, I feel, that wasn’t there before.

I can’t help but worry I’m losing him or like he might be giving up on me in some way.

Separate but together.

“Joalee goot?”

Buu calling for me dragged me from my thoughts as I peeled fruit and mashed vegetables. Popping out through that ceiling exit, Buu’s managed to catch something to eat for supper. Fresh meat. I couldn’t be more excited for a piddly looking carcass that’ll barely feed us both but I am. There’s only so much mash and fruit one can choke down day after day after day.

The dried, salted meat varieties he keeps in large quantities in one of his back storage rooms is great but after eating it endlessly, accompanying the mash and fruit, it’s only appealing to me anymore if I’m just desperate enough. That equivalent to beef jerky for meat, mash, and fruit on an endless loop can get a pregnant gal yarking pretty quick here if she’s sensitive to it, and I’m pretty freaking sensitive to salty meat. If I never saw another piece of salted meat ever again, that’d be just fine with me.

“What’s all that racket?” I called out to him. I didn’t bother looking up as I focused on not stabbing my fingers on the soft spots of the spiky-peeled fruit in my hands.

He called out for me regularly of late, like he was worried about me. Was he sensing something I wasn’t? A distress in the baby? In me that I wasn’t aware of? My hands and feet have been pretty puffed up to hell. Maybe that was it. My face is starting to get in on it, too, particularly my nose. Ugh. Not fun. I swear this baby must actually be six or something stuffed up in there, I’m starting to show so much, but Buu insists there’s only one baby.

As I’m not much use moving heavy shit, clawing out cave walls, or going through the ceiling to head off on hunting expeditions, I can’t say I’m keen on trying anyway, I could do this— food prep. It’s also helped me out, as Buu loved his seasonings and tended to get very generous with the salt-like mineral he harvested in large quantities to keep on hand. His food was seasoned after mine was made. The arrangement worked out just fine for both of us. There was a very stinky herb he enjoyed to roll his food in on cornball nights, as I called the meat and meal mash rolled hush puppy-like hot-water-boiled dish. Buu claimed it made them taste that much better. Odix would freaking love it, I was sure. The baby thinks stinky seasoned corn balls are an immediate evac from my gut for even thinking to try and eat them kinda sitch.

I need to feel helpful. I can’t stand sitting idly by while Buu does anything, I don’t care what he says.

I could skin and treat pelts, collect snow from the caved in back room and turn it into drinkable water. Under Buu’s tutelage, not that he had a choice in the matter or anything, ahem, I was pretty adept at cave living. I just really hated cave living and missed a warm, comfy bed about as much as I missed my freaking guys.

From all I’d learned back at the village, I’d managed to teach Buu a thing or two. He may or may not be thanking me for his newly found sweet tooth and the plants he was now growing and harvesting to keep a steady supply on hand.

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