Читать книгу Clouded Judgement - NICHOLA HARVEY - Страница 8

MY HEAD ROLLED ON the pillow and marginally lifted to peer at the clock on my bedside table. An exasperated sigh blowing as I thumped back down: it’s two in the frigging morning, and I’m wide-awake! Still! Lovely. I tried closing my eyes and tapped the edge of the white sheet gripped between my fingers as I attempted to count sheep. That turned out to be another pointless exercise too as an unconscious Ari began snoring. I let out a low groan. How in the hell was I meant to sleep with that racket? But as fast as the words entered my head, he stopped and mumbled something incoherently before lurching over onto his stomach. I sighed and closed my eyes: finally, peace at last. Settled once again, I rolled onto my side.

Only the willy-wagtail camped in the crepe myrtle outside my bedroom window had other ideas and began shrilling loudly. My eyes flicked open. It seemed I wasn’t as entitled to a good night’s sleep like sleeping beauty here beside me. Mind you I wasn’t in the least bit surprised by Ari’s deadened state either after he downed several glasses of champagne throughout our celebratory dinner. Unbelievable. I rolled my eyes and thrust myself onto my other side, hoping a change of position might help – nope, nada, not gonna do the trick. My brain now decided to choose this time to shift into overdrive as I began thinking about the prospect of us living in our new house and how we’ll coexist fulltime. Honestly, it scared the living daylights out of me.

Since jointly deciding on the block in Mountainview Lane, Mickleham, my ideas for the design just kept flourishing, really exciting me. But adding to that thrill was Ari’s split-second decision to acquire the Hampton property anyway, purely for investment purposes he’d informed me during dinner as was the explanation behind his reason for the purchase. He intended to flatten the original house, rebuild an entirely new home of my design, and resell for a substantial profit – all in a days work for Ari. So considering I was wide-awake, I ought to make use of my time and jot my concepts down for both houses, before they slipped away. Forgetting the simplest of tasks had become a regular occurrence thanks to my little invader turning my brain into mush, frustrating me to no end.

A nagging need to write in my diary was also behind my reason for getting up thanks to the never-ending negative thoughts plaguing me of late. One, of course, was my unexpected pregnancy. Doubts still lingered, making me wonder if I was ready for a child. A child meant responsibility and a lot of nurturing. Taking care of myself was laborious most days, so how was I meant to care for him or her as well? I knew such doubts shouldn’t exist, especially as I looked back at Ari. He’s thrilled at the prospect of impending fatherhood and would go above and beyond to support me if I found myself unable to cope. But when didn’t he? I quietly snorted; I could name a few times. At least if I wrote everything down and spoke with Doctor Montgomery at length about my feelings, he might hopefully lay those concerns to rest.

I frowned as I slipped out of bed: just for once, I wanted to wake up and face the rest of my life without fearing a past that consistently reminded me there was no future with Ari.

One could hope.

So engrossed in the planning of our ensuite bathroom, I failed to notice Ari sneaking up behind me until I felt the warmth of his hands gliding over the cool of my bare shoulders. I swivelled on the stool and peered up at him. “Why are you awake?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorted. “I’m sure whatever you’re doing at four o’clock in the morning could have waited until tomorrow...” He yawned, raising a questionable brow as he glanced at the clock on the wall above his head. “Or today, for that matter.”

I beamed, thrusting out my arm to pass him several of my roughly drawn sketches. “This is the reason.”

Flopping into the oxford blue aniline leather highback chair beside my desk, Ari took the drawings from my outstretched hand, marvelling as his bleary eyes grazed over my modern but singularly French-inspired designs. “You’ve drawn these up in what, just a couple of hours? These are remarkable, Teddy. I knew you would design us a beautiful home, but these exceed all expectations.”

“I was having a hard time getting to sleep,” I explained, intentionally leaving out the part about my journal and my feelings. “So I thought I would make a start on our home. I roughly sketched up a few concepts for the inside, as well,” I coyly admitted, passing him the rest.

“These are impressive. Six bedrooms? Planning on filling them all up, are you?”

“No, I only want to fill two, maybe three bedrooms.”

“I’d have a football team if that’s what you desired,” Ari whispered. “But two or three is fine,” he swiftly corrected, laughing at the horror on my face.

“I would certainly hope so or having sex with me would be like throwing a hotdog down a hallway.”

Ari chuckled heartily. “I think that’s a slight exaggeration, but may we please go back to bed so I can lovingly roll my sausage between your buns?”

“Oh, my god, you’re so damned crude!” I giggled swatting his arm and switching off the lamp clamped to the desktop. “Do you speak to your mother with that mouth?”

“You know, I do.” He cheekily grinned.

My eyes rolled; why’d I bother asking?