Page 71 of Forced Knocked-Up Mate

I can’t help feeling a bit abandoned, and lonely again. Waking up in blankets smelling of Peter doesn’t help, either.When I get up to look out the window, I see the world has been covered in thick blankets of shining white snow. Most of the roads are probably closed.

I shuffle to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, but my stomach flips right up into my throat at the mere thought of tea or food. As I make the tea, my stomach starts to growl with hunger, and I drop my face into my hand.

What the fuck is going on with me? Am I hungry or not?

After a couple of sips of tea, I eat a piece of toast, very slowly. When my stomach growls wildly again, I suddenly become ravenous, devouring a tub of blueberries, three cups of yogurt, and a bowl of muesli.

Even though I’m still confused about my physical condition, the food has given me a decent amount of energy. I take a long, hot shower, emerging refreshed and clear-headed.

I’m fine. I’m totally good. I can handle this, no problem.

Then I go into the living room.

The couch is exactly as I left it, piled high with Peter’s blankets and pillows from the last time he slept there. The loss cuts into my heart, stealing my breath and setting a chill through my guts.

I start shivering so badly, I feel sick again, and I have to sit down and take long, even breaths to calm myself down. Eventually, my stomach settles, but my emotions don’t.

He ran from me, and he hasn’t come back. Not a single message on my phone. Surely, if he cared, he would have said something by now.

My phone buzzes on the table, and I stare at it suspiciously. Hesitantly, I pick it up, looking at the screen with a mixture of dread and hope.

The text is from Gina, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed.

“Hey, Lucy. We have a little crowd here at Shelley’s, offering relief for people affected by the storm. Do you have any leftovers from the bakery we could use? Thanks!”

I realize that we do have a lot of leftovers, thanks to Peter. He never let us waste a single thing, and he set up new procedures for the kitchen. The fridge will be stocked with muffins, cookies, biscuits, and cakes that are still perfectly good to eat but not fresh enough to sell.

The last thing I want to do is go out, but I text Gina back and tell her I’ll be there soon. When I head out to the car, a snow plow is already cleaning the street, so I don’t have any trouble stopping at the bakery before heading to Shelley’s.

The back doors are wide open, and the small parking lot is full of cars. I manage to find a spot not far away and stagger towards the bar with a big carton of baked goods.

“Lucy!” Gina calls, waving. “There you are. Good lord, girl, let one of the boys take that crate!”

“Gladly,” I say, relinquishing it to Jack. “There’s more in my car if you want to send someone over.”

Gina gives a little whistle and gestures to Kyle. “You heard the lady. Go get those crates.”

“Will do,” Kyle says, trotting off across the parking lot.

“The place is overrun,” I say as I look around. “The storm was pretty bad then?”

“Yeah, some areas of town got hit with gale-force winds and ripped the roofs off a couple of houses. We’re just getting immediate relief out to as many people as we can.”

“Do you need some help?”

“We’re good here. Besides, you look really tired. Just go and sit with Leslie for a bit. She’s inside.”

“Okay,” I answer, going in and heading up the back. Leslie is sitting in the far corner, out of the way of the crowd. She has her feet up on a nearby chair as she scowls up at Lena.

“I’m fine. Will you stop?” Leslie growls.

“I don’t know,” Lena says, shaking her head. “You look pale.”

“I’m not!” Leslie protests. “Will you leave me alone?”

“Never,” Lena snaps. “Not in a million lifetimes. Your health and safety, and that of your pup, is my utmost concern.”

“Oh, Leslie!” I cry, hurrying over to take her hand. “You’re pregnant?”

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