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“You’d do that for me?” I ask, shocked that he would want to do something so silly for me. “I can pack my bag, you know.”

“I know, but you have other things to do, and I didn’t make any plans otherwise.” He explains, which makes me feel better about asking him to do this for me.

“Then, yeah. That would actually be really nice to have that off my plate.” I say.

“Consider it done then.” He smiles, settling down at the breakfast table with me to eat.

Breakfast goes by with a pleasant quiet between us, and when we finish, I go into my office to get work done while he does… whatever he does during the day.

It all has a very homey domestic feeling, which is both a little shocking and… pleasant?

Chapter 9

Elsie

Iclosed my laptop around noon for lunch, and with all of our things ready to go, Marshall loaded us up in his truck shortly after to drive out to The Playground.

The resort is a beautiful structure that flows seamlessly with the Texas landscape of tall grasses and sprawling trees. Every facet of the campus was carefully thought out for the benefit of its patrons. Knowing the owners—the Morgan polycule—is all very deliberate.

The staff quickly checked us in, and soon enough, we are entering the rooms I had booked for Marshall and me.

As you enter the top-floor suite, you pass a small kitchen with all the amenities you would need to stay for long periods of time, as some people do. The room then opens to plush couches placed in a U shape in front of a massive television screen. Beyond the media area is a balcony looking out across the whole resort, including the club, which is situated directly across from us.

Knowing I wasn’t quite ready for the intimacy that comes with sharing a bed, I booked us a suite with two bedrooms, each with California king beds. The suites are intended for guests with larger groups like those in polycules, but I thought it was necessary for us to have separate sleeping accommodations.

When I finished work today, I was too tired to think, much less pack a bag.

Pregnancy is a bitch on your energy levels like that.

So, I was so glad that, at the time, Marshall already did everything for me, but I’m now severely regretting that decision.

“Marshall!” I yell from the primary bedroom of our suite.

“What! What?” He asks frantically as he enters the bedroom.

I’m frowning in front of the suitcase he packed for me.

“What in the hell did you pack?” I snap.

“What are you talking about?” He says, stopping in his tracks in the doorway.

“Marshall,” I growl. “There’s nothing here but skimpy lingerie and bikini bathing suits!”

“I’m failing to see the problem here.” He questions, looking around at the items I’ve pulled out of the bag.

“The problem is I’m fat, Marshall. I can’t wear any of this!” I say, frustrated beyond measure. “Where did you even find this stuff?”

I love my fat body, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have insecurities or that I don’t dress to my level of comfort, even in body-positive spaces like the club.

“First off, your body is fucking incredible, and I don’t want you ever talking negatively about it like that again.” He says with a slight growl in his voice.

“Fat isn’t a bad word, Marshall. It’s just an accurate description of my body.” I say a little too curtly. “I’m not using it to talk down about myself. I’m reclaiming the word. Got it?”

“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.” He grumbles before getting back to my original question. “Second. Some came from your closet, but I went out and got the rest because I couldn’t find anything that worked for the club.”

I groan, holding up a sheer, stretchy mesh bodycon dress with rhinestones. “And you didn’t bother to ask where I keep all my club wear in the apartment?”

“I was just trying to be helpful.” He says before taking the dress from me and setting it back on the bed. He takes my hand and stroking the inside of my wrist. “And you’re going to look fucking incredible in all of it.”

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