Page 60 of Forced Pregnant Mate

“I’ll do it,” Jack says, opening the door for me. When I reach up to grab the handle above the door, both boys yell at me again.

“What now?” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Jack and Sam look at the truck, then at each other.

“A little safety step?” Sam suggests.

Jack nods. “Yeah, I think so. That will work for now, but I’ll have to get a new car, something low to the ground. This isn’t going to work long-term.”

“Tell me you’re joking!” I say, laughing. Both of them give me a serious look that tells me they most certainly are not joking.

By using the boys for support, I manage to get into the truck without reaching, stretching, or jumping. I try to explain that only being a few months along doesn’t restrict my movement, but they clearly aren’t listening.

When we get home, I take myself off to bed with only minimal interference from the mother hens. The next morning, I wake up first and head to the kitchen for a nice herbal tea and a piece of dry toast. The nausea hasn’t been too bad, but I certainly don’t challenge my stomach in the mornings.

I’m heading towards the table with my tea and toast when Jack walks in and stops dead, staring at me with wide eyes. “Lena!” he almost shrieks.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, help me,” I mutter.

“What are you doing?” Jack cries. Sam immediately appears behind him.

“What did she do? Is she okay?”

Jack moves into the room. Delicately, he takes the cup and plate from my hand and puts them on the table.

“There you go,” he says, relieved. “Don’t go getting up before me and straining yourself to make breakfast. Let me help you with things like that.”

“Yeah, I don’t like the idea of you carrying boiling water around by yourself,” Sam puts in. “What if you started feeling faint?”

I sit down, looking at both of them in disbelief. “I’d hardly call making tea and toast a strenuous exercise,” I begin, ready to give them a full rundown of the doctor’s instructions. The boys look at each other, nodding.

“You’re right,” Jack agrees.

“Yes, definitely,” Sam says.

Aha! Sanity reigns.

“You need more than toast,” Jack goes on, and Sam nods emphatically. “While I’m happy you didn’t strain yourself further trying to make a big meal, you should be having some protein with that. I’ll start right now.”

“No!” I say firmly. “If you start frying up bacon and cracking eggs right now, I will barf all over this table! Both of you need to chill out, right now!”

The boys look at me in alarm, then at each other.

“Stress,” Sam mutters.

“We stressed her out,” Jack agrees.

“What should we do?” Sam asks.

“You are going to get ready for school, young man!” I snap at him. “And you, Jack, are going to get ready for work. Both of you are going to let me eat my damn toast in peace! Then, I’m going to get ready for work and you can make your own breakfast once I’m out of the kitchen.”

Both of them stare at me. They look at each other, then back at me.

“You’re going to work?” they both say in almost perfect unison.

“Oh, my good lord,” I stand up, grabbing my tea and toast. “I’m going to have my breakfast in peace on the deck. Both of you sort yourselves out in the meantime!”

“Don’t go far,” Jack says. “I think I should come with you.”

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