Stunned, I was about to shake my head when Mrs. Erikson winked at me. She continued, “Having cramps suck. You can’t exert yourself during the first three months. Otherwise, you might risk having a miscarriage.”
Ashton was about to head upstairs to work, but Mrs. Eriksen called out, “Mr. Ashton, it’s painful to have cramps. You should give her a massage later. I bought some essential oil earlier. It’s in your bedroom.”
I must admit Mrs. Eriksen was doing a good job as a wingman.
Ashton put his files down and gazed at me. “Does it hurt?”
I belatedly realized he was asking if the cramps hurt.
Mrs. Eriksen was nodding profusely at me, so I nodded and forced out a smile. “Yes!”
Frowning, Ashton uttered, “Come on!”
As he went straight to the bedroom, I stared at Mrs. Eriksen. “Mrs. Eriksen, I don’t have cramps.”
I had other symptoms, but having cramps wasn’t one of them.
Mrs. Eriksen shot me an exasperated look. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll have that when you’re five or six months along. Hurry, go back to your bedroom now.”
My legs felt like lead as I made my way back to the bedroom. Ashton was taking a shower in the bathroom.
Looking around, I noticed a bottle of essential oil on the bedside table. I couldn’t believe it. Mrs. Eriksen was indeed full of tricks!
I was gone for a few days but luckily, Ashton wasn’t cruel enough to throw my clothes away.
He stepped out of the bathroom soon, his hair dripping wet. The water trailed down his naked chest, reaching his waist wrapped in a towel.
“Take a shower!” he ordered, interrupting my thoughts.
I swiveled my head around and met his gaze wordlessly. Feeling guilty, I looked away and scurried into the bathroom.
The shower was loud, but I could still hear the noise from the bedroom. I thought the ringtone I heard was from Ashton’s phone, but he was holding my phone to his ear when I came out of the bathroom.
I went to him. “Who is on the phone?”
He said nothing and gave my phone to me coolly.
Glancing at the screen, I saw Nick’s name and frowned.
“Hello, Mr. Harrison,” I greeted him politely, walking away from Ashton.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed he was gloomily focusing on his phone.
“I’ve dealt with the scandal. If needed, I’ll hold a press conference,” Nick told me in all seriousness.
It was rare to hear him speak so formally. “Okay, thank you!” I replied.
“You’re welcome,” he said, seemingly distracted. “If I like you, I’ll make you Mrs. Harrison in a respectable manner.”
What the hell? “Good night!” I responded because Ashton was already glaring at me impatiently.
After hanging up, I placed my phone aside. “It’s about the scandal. He…”
Trailing off, it occurred to me that there was no need to explain. I sat on the edge of the bed to dry my hair with the towel.
Suddenly, someone took the towel away from me. I whirled around and saw Ashton standing behind me. Before I could react, he had already started drying my hair.
Silence lingered in the air.
Soon, my hair was almost dry. He flung the towel aside and commanded, “Lie down!”
Huh?
The essential oil was now in Ashton’s hand. He was kneeling on the bed, waiting for me. So he was going to give me a massage!
My cheeks heated up. “You don’t have to do this. I can…”
I stopped talking as his threatening glare landed on me.
Silently, Ashton poured the essential oil onto his palms and massaged my calves. It was an awkward situation for me. I wanted to say something, but nothing seemed appropriate for this situation.
“Are you still mad at me?” I asked hesitantly.
His hands stopped moving. Meeting my gaze, he uttered, “Does it hurt?”
I was taken aback by his sudden question. Thinking he was referring to my cramps, I shook my head. After all, Mrs. Eriksen made it up to ease our relationship. “Not really,” I told him.
Suddenly, he rose to his feet. I grabbed his arm instinctively and implored, “Ashton, if you’re mad, you can yell at me. Please don’t ignore me!”
