Marital Bitch(59)

"I'm sorry," I say. Since he's barely speaking to me, I decide to take the floor. "I'm so sorry about the whole Heather thing. I am! I am!" I sob, turning into a blubbering mess. I don’t even know where this is coming from.

"Don't!" he shouts, startling me. "Don't you fucking go there!" He grips the steering wheel tightly, his face reddening. I ignore him and continue. Fighting with Brad is far better than being ignored by Brad.

"I know I can't take it back and I'm sorry for that! I have no excuse!" I scream. "But at some point you have to forgive me or not. There can't be an in-between anymore." I cover my face with my hands.

"You? You!" He barks an angry laugh. "You have no clue how shitty it is to follow you around like a lost fucking puppy, just waiting to be pet and then shoved aside when something else interests you!" My stomach churns at his words. One moment, I feel a little light headed and the next I can feel my dinner making its way up.

"Stop the car!" I panic as the intensity of my queasiness skyrockets.

"She's not a car, Colleen," he chastises, not even looking away from the road.

"Stop the damn truck!" I yell, my arms stretched out before me on the dash. Still he doesn't look over.

"Why!" he snaps, "for what goddamn reason should I stop the truck?"

My line of vision goes fuzzy and I can't make out the road in front of us. I dry heave once and my stomach calms. But the peace doesn't last. I take two deep breaths and then expel my dinner onto the floorboard.

"Oh, shit," Brad says, startled. He slowly pulls over and puts the truck in park. "Baby, are you going to get sick again?" he holds my hair back away from my face. His free hand is rubbing my back in the most soothing manner. I shake my head.

"I told you to stop the truck, you imbecile," I groan and wipe my mouth. This is so disgusting.

“I wish I had listened to you. Poor Sweetness,” he says. Sweetness? Poor Sweetness? Seriously? Even the truck gets more sympathy than I do. And only Brad would name his damn truck Sweetness. Really? I kick the floorboard and find myself disgusted when my own throw up sloshes around my shoe. I dry heave again, this time opening the door and into the fresh air.

“Disgusting,” I hear him mutter from behind me as he holds my hair and tries his best to soothe me, which isn’t saying much. He fishes around and finds a water bottle for me. I gulp its contents down quickly and lean back inside the truck—stupid Sweetness—catching my breath.

“Is it something you ate?” he asks nervously. I shrug my shoulders and close my eyes. It probably is. I haven’t thrown up in years. “Or do you think you could be pregnant already?” I feel one of his hands graze my stomach before he pulls it away quickly. My heart flutters and my cheeks redden at his impulsive action. I like his hand there. It feels so intimate.

Pregnant? I think that over for a moment. Is it too soon? It’s probably too soon, I reason. But God, I sure hope so. Another flood of images of rowdy little boys flood my mind and warm my heart. I want to have Brad’s baby.

"How long's it been since, you know, anyway?" he asks. I brace myself against the dash and shoot an incredulous look his way. Is he really trying to ask how long we've been having sex for? He begins to blush under my stare. Brad. Blush? What? Well, this is new.

"You mean how long we've been bumping uglies for? You mean how long we've been fucking for? You mean--" and he cuts me off.

"Don't be crude, Colleen," he chastises me, a smirk playing on his lips. The hell? Really? He is telling me not to be crude? Oh, for the ever loving-- "and it’s not bumping uglies," he says, interrupting my internal banter. "It's bumping pretties." I roll my eyes.

He starts up the car and rolls down the windows. "Let's go home, you disgusting thing, you. I don't think my poor truck can take any more of your particular brand of abuse."

"Anyway," I grumble, "I don't know how long it's been. We'll have to look at a calendar."

We get home and to my surprise, Brad comes around to my side in a flash and opens up my door. He offers his hand, which I happily accept, and he helps me out. We walk in and I leave my disgusting shoes just outside the door, and rush up to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

"So, should I go buy one of those things?" Brad asks, sneaking into the bathroom behind me. Despite having brushed my teeth, I can still smell the puke on me so I decide to shower. I undress in front of Brad. I notice he's paying attention to my now naked body as opposed to my face. I take a small bit of pride in the fact that I can cause a physical reaction out of him, judging by Mac's suddenly obvious presence.