Chapter Two-2
958 Words
The air hostess, a woman in a blue suit with her silky smooth dark hair pinned back in a bun, stood beside Adalia’s seat, wearing the smile of a person practiced in patience. “Yes, ma’am, we have fish available, but all our meals are pre-prepared. I can’t have a specific dish made up for you.”
“She’s pregnant,” Trent put in, “this is probably one of her cravings.”
Adalia ignored her husband and grasped the bag of peanuts. “So, that’s a no on the Norwegian salmon?” She wasn’t unreasonable – didn’t expect the air hostess to magic it out of thin air. She’d just expected a little variety in first class.
The thought of anything but Norwegian salmon made her sick to the stomach.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We are serving hake this evening, however. Should I bring you some of that?”
“No, thank you. Just a glass of water.” And possibly a pain killer. A headache had set in soon after they’d arrived at the airport.
The air hostess smiled amicably and sauntered off up the aisle, touching the seats and the arms of passengers as she went, exchanging a word here and there.
Adalia rubbed at her nose. She could smell everything at the moment, including the DKNY which the lady across from her had chosen to spritz on by the gallon.
She was irritable, though it probably wasn’t from the hormones yet. The doctor had said she was only 4 weeks, right before they’d left his office.
“Do you want to talk about what happened earlier?” Trent brushed his fingertips up her arm, leaving a wake of goose flesh.
“Not really. I’m tired and grumpy... I don’t want to take it out on you,” Adalia replied. That was probably a more mature reaction than dashing through their vacation suite and hiding under the Egyptian cotton.
Trent nodded and went quiet for a few moments. He shifted then said, “I want you to take it easy when we get home. I’ll handle the business for the bakery.”
“Oh please,” she replied. “It’s not like I have a dreaded disease or something. I can still function in everyday life. I’m not even far along yet. You’re seriously blowing this out of proportion. I thought it was sweet at first, but yeah, it’s starting to irritate me now.”
“I want you to have a good pregnancy. I want you to be happy,” he said.
“Then let me do what I have to do, instead of trying to restrict me.” Adalia paused and studied him, relishing the sight of his strong jaw and nose, before continuing. “I need freedom to be happy. I don’t know what type of woman you’re used to, but I’m certainly not the kind to take orders from a man.”
“Stop it,” Trent said, grabbing her hand and raising it to his lips. He brushed a trail of hot kisses over her knuckles and up to the inside of her elbow. That was his signature move – it drove her wild.
Heat flooded Adalia’s core, quickly replaced by a wave of nausea. “I told you I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I don’t want to fight.” Trent squeezed her hand gently. “I’m only being protective.”
“I know that.” But there wasn’t anything else to say. The fact remained that she would pursue her dreams and be a successful mother, or at least she’d try her heart out. She had to establish independence somehow, prove herself as she’d always wanted.
Her child wouldn’t respect her if she was some kept woman. Trent’s billionaire wife, lucky enough to marry a rich man. She glanced around the cabin and chewed her bottom lip. First class flights paid for by Mr. Dawson.
Why did she find it offensive that he’d paid for her? It seemed unreasonable on her part, but –
The hostess walked past with the food trolley, heading towards the back of the plane, carrying dish upon dish of hake and potato wedges, beef sliders and green beans. The odor of cooked food travelled throughout the cabin.
“Smells good,” Trent said. He craned his neck at the approaching hostess, l*****g his lips. They hadn’t had a bite since they arrived in Santorini that morning.
That smell would’ve brought out the hunger in a normal person. The scent of grilled meat and white fish was too much to bear for her. Adalia pressed her lips together and denied the bile rising in her throat. Not now, oh God, please not now.
“Adalia?” He leaned forward, all sympathy and sweetness. “Do you want me to get you a bucket?”
A bucket. She coughed out a laugh and stood abruptly, then hurried down the aisle towards the bathrooms at the back of the plane. Businessmen in suits and ties stared at her as she hurried past, women wearing gold necklaces and massive diamond rings raised their eyebrows in disdain.
These were not her kind of people. White and upper class, probably swimming in money from the moment of conception. They stared at her like she was an outsider. She sprinted past them all, secretly enjoying the shock which registered on their faces, then rammed her way into the cubicle.
She dropped to her knees and slammed the door shut with the heel of her shoe. Adalia dry heaved for about five minutes, but her stomach was empty except for a dribble of water. She coughed, stood and washed her mouth out anyway.
The door handle rattled. “Adalia?” Trent murmured from the other side of the door. “Are you alright, my love?”
“Sure, I’m fine,” she said, staring at her reflection in the mirror, the fleshy cheeks and full lips. She massaged her stomach then dropped her hands to cradle her womb. There wasn’t a bump yet, but for a moment she imagined the tiny flutter of movement within.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she said.
Trent’s receding footsteps did nothing to comfort her.
- Writer
