Page 87 of Beautiful Crazy

“No, Em. It’s okay. I’m—”

“And I made you dinner, Emmett,” she snaps, standing up and grabbing clothes around her, piling them in her arms. “I cooked it earlier today when I started getting cramps because I knew I might not feel like cooking later in the day and you would need something to eat. I put it in the crockpot to stay warm. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Em—”

She swings her arm out in a defeated gesture. “But then my cramps got the best of me, and I laid down to try to work because it’s the only position that felt remotely comfortable and ended up falling asleep. So, I’m sorry I haven’t cleaned up the kitchen yet and I’m sorry I left laundry all over the fucking place. I’m sorry I’ve had a shit day, alright? I promise I’ll fix it but right now, I need to go change my tampon for the twentieth time today.”

I watch her walk into her room with the pile of clothes in her arms and come back out empty handed where she turns toward me sticking her finger in the air.

“Oh, and here’s a fun fact for you. Did you know that tampons are usually sold in boxes of eighteen because some dude with a fucking penis thought that’s how many tampons a woman uses in her one cycle? Thanks, dude with a penis! Thanks for that considerate planning. How about the next time you create a box of tampons for sale you include a huge variety pack that includes everything from several ultra-sized ones, because most of us are exploding for at least the first two if not three days, all the way down to the itty bitty regulars that almost nobody uses, because let’s be honest, our periods are like big bad ass blood fests to help us celebrate the fact your thousands of little children you like to shoot up there on a regular basis weren’t strong enough to latch on this time around. HU-FUCKING-ZUH!”

Afraid to blink my eyes, I watch and listen to Emily as she breaks down and rages in front of me, feeling immensely guilty for bringing up the mess in here. She stomps into the bathroom and slams the door. All the air in me deflates and I hold my head in my hand, pinching my forehead between my fingers.

“Fuck.”

This isn’t how I saw this evening going at all.

While Emily’s in the bathroom I step quietly into the kitchen to see what’s in the crockpot. My heart flips when I see and smell the chili she made for us. I know she knows it’s my favorite meal. I wait for her to come out of the bathroom, and when she does, she is in no better of a mood.

“Emily, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Just leave me alone, Emmett. And leave the dishes. I’ll make sure they’re clean in the morning. Welcome home, by the way. I hope you had a good day.” And with that she walks into her bedroom and closes the door before I can say anything more.

This would usually be the moment that I know I should follow her into her room and snuggle the fuck out of her, letting her cry about her day on my shoulder, but something keeps my feet planted firmly on the floor just outside the kitchen, watching her close her bedroom door behind her.

“I had a super shitty day,” I mumble under my breath. “Thanks for asking. All I wanted to do was spend the evening with you.”

Resigned to the fact that I just fucked up a simple conversation with Emily and now she doesn’t want to talk to me, I take a few minutes to eat a warm bowl of surprisingly delicious chili and scroll through social media. I see Lacey has another DIY video uploaded so I watch it simply because I don’t have anything else to do. Once I eat dinner, I start in on the dishes. Emily may have told me to let them sit till tomorrow, but she doesn’t feel good and I’m fully capable so why not let her come out to a clean kitchen. One less thing on her plate.

By nine-o-clock, dinner is cleaned up, dishes are washed, dried, and put away and Emily still hasn’t come out of her room, so I quietly push open her door to check on her. The vision of her in a fetal position on her bed sleeping soundly, her beautiful brown hair fanning across her pillow, tugs at my heart. I want to curl up and hold her while she sleeps, run my hand down her hair and whisper in her ear that everything will be alright. But I also don’t want to bother her. It’s the one thing she asked for.

Just leave me alone Emmett.

Creeping over to her side of the bed, I touch the back of my hand to her forehead to make sure she isn’t getting sick and then kiss her temple.

“I love you, Em. So fucking much.”

She stirs a bit but doesn’t open her eyes, so I unfold the blankets on the other side of the bed and fold them over to cover her so she can sleep soundly for the night. Sure, she may wake up in the coming hours, but at least she’ll know I was here and that I care.

“Sleep well, Babe.”

Chapter 19

Emily

Last night was not at all how I saw the night going. My period may have thrown me a few curveballs but all I wanted was for Emmett to come home and eat chili with me and let me curl up on his lap with a heating pad. It’s what he’s done before. Not that I need someone to take care of me, because obviously I can menstruate perfectly fine on my own, but it’s a nice feeling to be doted on just a little bit when you’re feeling like shit. I guess I should’ve asked him to snuggle with me instead of overreacting to his comments.

I spent my night being a whiney baby in my room feeling judged for just being me.

For being a girl.

A girl with a uterus.

For feeling like shit.

Coming home to a mess in the living room isn’t exactly new for Emmett. Nor is it new for him to see that I’ve made a mess in the kitchen, but I’ve always cleaned up after myself eventually. I was really hoping he would’ve seen past all that and noticed that I wasn’t myself and just needed a little sympathy or forgiveness for the night.

Regardless, I’m feeling better today and have been wondering all morning about how I might be able to make it up to him for putting up with my cranky attitude last night.

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