Page 106 of Petite Fleur

I hate that this girl has had to accept the bare minimum for so long that she doesn't even know what she enjoys. I intend to change that.

I’m going to make up for the first 21 years of her life being shit by pampering her until her dying breath.

Although I’d love to hold my girl forever, I need to get her fed, so I lay her on the couch and tuck her in with a warm blanket. She even lets me kiss her on the forehead before heading into the kitchen to find her something to eat.

With how clingy and fucking adorable she is on her period, I’m really hoping she’ll be just as bad, if not worse, when she’s finally pregnant.

I’ll cater to her every need while she’s growing my baby, gladly so.

I’ll research what she needs to be eating to help them both, just like I am currently researching what helps women on their periods.

Apparently the answer is carbs and sweets.

I don’t know if that’s what actually helps, or just what most women prefer, but the other option was iron rich foods like steak, eggs, tuna, and beans.

While I’m sure beans would help her, I’d rather her enjoy herself.

I make her some crustless apple pie with vegan ice cream, brownies with some of her favorite pretzels and peanut butter at the bottom, and some gluten-free pasta with a vegan bolognese for a protein boost.

I don’t know if she’ll trust any of it after the last time she got sick, but I also have a few sealed snacks as well.

I climb on the couch and situate myself behind her, letting her lay between my legs with her back against my chest and her heating pad on her stomach. Honestly, I’m surprised she lets me, but she’s probably too exhausted to argue and simply settles against me.

I put the tray of food beside us and wrap my arms around her. “Everything is safe to eat, can you please trust me? I think it’ll make you feel better to get a little food in you.” I beg.

I know it’s a lot to ask, and I won’t be offended if she doesn’t trust me in this aspect yet, but I will need her trust at some point.

I won’t have my future wife pregnant, bloated, exhausted, and sore, but making meals for us and our children. I won’t have her lifting a finger during any of the pregnancies we have together, so she's going to need to learn to depend on me.

Not surprising, but my girl settles for the gluten-free pretzels and the ice cream, the only two things on the tray that are sealed.

I’m not going to take offense to it, she was in a living nightmare for an entire day after the last time she trusted my cooking and now I know it’ll take a little more time to gain that sliver of trust back.

I hold my girl while she snacks and watches some documentary about the rainforest and deforestation. I don’t see how sheenjoys it, but I want her laying against me, so I don’t care what we watch.

We could watch the top 200 worst commercials of the decade, and I’d still happily sit here and hold onto my girl.

I occasionally rub her stomach when I feel her curl in on herself, but she declines my numerous offers for medicine, so she’s either stubborn, doesn’t want me to move, or is feeling okay enough to go without.

I’m going to go with her being stubborn based on the way she halts her breathing every once in a while and presses the heating pad into her stomach occasionally.

I should have prepared for this. I’ve read up on celiac, and I’ve studied Maeve; I know that her disease can cause more severe periods.

Why wasn’t I ready for this?

I'm always prepared for every scenario, but my arrogance got in the way on this one.

The longer I lay here with my girl, the more confused I am that she’s letting me hold her without making snarky little remarks or calling me a butthead or a jerk face.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll happily savor every moment that I’m given, but it’s not like her to give in so easily.

“You okay, petite fleur?” I ask quietly as I kiss the side of her neck.

It takes several minutes before she reacts in any way, but when she finally does, she shifts uncomfortably before looking at me with a nervous expression that I can’t quite place.

“Are you going to kill me since I’m not pregnant?” She asks.

I don’t know how I fucked this up so badly that she’s scared for her life around me, but I have to do something to fix it.