Author's Note: Ok, I don't know what got into me, but I just had to write this. Broadway.Baby986, thanks for the help, and everything. Brownies need to be made. ...Anywho, please review! I don't like having stories stuck in my head and I know you hate not being able to read them because people don't review. So please, three people review?
Grace looked at her pale complexion in the mirror, grasping the edges of the sink for support. She turned the water off and straightened her skirt before walking out into the hallway. Oliver looked up as his fiancé entered the office. She sat down across from him, running her hand through her hair before looking up at him. His face was etched in concern as he looked at her pallor complexion. He rose and walked over and kneeled next to her chair, cupping her chin in his hand.
"You don't look well, my dear." He stated, kissing her lightly on the forehead. He had never liked seeing her sick, and now that they were engaged, he liked it even less.
"I don't know what's wrong with me, Oliver." She answered, resting her head in her hands. "I think I may be getting sick."
"Why don't we take the day off, and you get some rest?" He asked, rubbing her back gently.
"I guess that would be okay." She answered, standing awkwardly, her legs shaky, and she grasped Oliver for support. He led her up the steps, to his rooms. She did not show the slightest bit of resistance, and soon she was sleeping peacefully in his arms. He watched her, color coming back to her face as she slept. He silently slipped away from her and left her to rest.
She awoke several hours later, to find herself in Oliver's room. She rolled over, and immediately felt sick, the familiar heat rising up from the pit of her stomach. She made a dash for the bathroom, barely making it. When she returned to the bedroom, Oliver was there, sitting on the bed, waiting for her. She smiled, sitting on the bed next to him and taking his hand.
"I am fine, Oliver. Don't worry." She said, quelling the speech he was about to make. "I actually feel better now. I think it was just something I ate." He leaned in to kiss her, running his hand along her back, quickly deepening the kiss. That night, they fell asleep in each other's arms. Grace awoke the next morning wrapped in Oliver's arms. He was still sleeping, so she rolled away, slipping out of bed. She retrieved her robe and tugged it on, thinking a sandwich and maybe a cup of tea would be wonderful. She walked down to the kitchen, contemplating her current state. She was so sick, and now she was fine. That didn't make any sense, not any sense at all. Mrs. Pugh was already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, which was only a few hours away. Maybe all she needed was a good night's sleep.
"Good morning, Miss Farrell." Mrs. Pugh said, looking up at her good friend and manager as she entered the kitchen. "You are looking a bit better this morning."
"Good morning, Mrs. Pugh." She said, taking the kettle off of the stove and pouring herself a cup of tea. "I feel much better, thank you." She sipped her tea as she watched Mrs. Pugh walk about the kitchen, and soon, there was a plate off eggs and toast in front of her. She tucked in, quickly eating everything on the plate. She finished her tea, and began to rise, when she was struck with the all too familiar churning in her stomach. She rushed over to the sink, and quickly lost all her breakfast. Mrs. Pugh rushed over, hovering about Grace, trying to feel her forehead for a temperature.
"Mrs. Pugh, please!" Grace exclaimed at last, shooing her away and heading back up the stairs. She was just fine a minute ago… Grace stopped dead in her tracks. It all made sense. But, she couldn't
be, could she? This wasn't happening. She quickly made her way to her suite, almost slamming the door. How could this have happened? They were not even married yet. What would he say? Would he be angry? She felt the need to be sick again, and headed for the bathroom. How was she going to tell Oliver he was going to be a father?