3: THREE

"Doesn't matter. Drink!"

Marisol rolled her eyes before taking the shot. "Wow, fuck you all. You know I hate tequila!"

A few days after her lunch meeting, Brad and Emilia insisted she drink one last time before being knocked up for nine months. Unfortunately, no one was allowed to go out because of quarantine, so a few friends came to her house.

As the music played, someone poured vodka into her mouth. Laughing, she pulled away, feeling the alcohol fall down her chin and chest. Someone grabbed her, and upon touching their face, she realized it was a friend. Elijah and she had had relations in the past, but nothing ever stuck. He licked the excess alcohol off her chin before kissing her. Her friends all cheered them on.

She pulled away, not wanting to go further. After taking a body shot off of Brad, she went outside to cool off. She sat down on the step, taking in the cold air. She was having fun, honestly, but sometimes her head hurt from trying to figure out what was around her.

She looked behind her as she heard the door shut again. Someone sat beside her. When he started speaking, she realized it was Elijah. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Do what? Drink?"

"No, have this guy's baby."

She nodded. "Yeah. I am."

He sighed, moving closer to her. "Aren't there rules about having sex during the pregnancy?"

"Yeah, there are," she said, feeling the bridge of his nose crawl up her neck. She giggled.

"Are you sure you want to give it up for so long?"

"It definitely won't be easy," she admitted. She turned to him and he kissed her, pulling her body onto his lap. She kissed him in return, running her nimble hands through his hair. As he kissed down her neck and down her chest, she moaned. "This is the last time, Elijah."

He hummed in response as he picked her up, walked back into the house, and snook them upstairs.

❥

At some point, she was standing on her kitchen island, dancing to 'Talking Bodies' with a bottle in her hand. She stopped suddenly. "Guys, I can fucking see," she screamed.

Brad looked at her. "No, the fuck you can't."

"Yes! I can! I can see with my ears."

"Yeah, okay. Come on, let's get some water."

"Fuck water."

"No, no, water is good." He wrapped his arms around her legs, putting her onto his shoulder. He put her onto her feet and grabbed the bottle from her hand. He made her drink water before drinking more alcohol.

❥

When she woke up the next morning, she was laying the opposite way on her bed. She sat up slowly, feeling her head ring with a headache. She winced hearing her phone ring. Before she could find it, she realized that she was completely naked next to someone. "Oh fuck," she groaned.

She stumbled out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her. When her phone stopped ringing and she couldn't find it, someone began knocking on her front door. She made her way carefully down the stairs, still wrapped in only a sheet. When she made it to the front door, she opened it. "Hello?"

"Marisol."

Her blood ran cold as she realized who it was. "Mr. Weston. H-hello."

"I am a little early for breakfast. I apologize."

Breakfast? What about breakfast. She played it cool. When did she agree to breakfast? She smiled through her panic. She didn't want to come off as hungover. "I'm running a little late, would you like to come in?"

"Yes."

She moved to the side, feeling his large form walk into her living room. She suddenly realized she had no idea how messy her house was. "I'm sorry if it's messy."

Walking in, Grey raised an eyebrow as he took in the condition. He could clearly smell the scent of alcohol and marijuana and hear someone upstairs throwing up. She was drinking, everyone here was drinking. He found it humorous. He found it funny until he saw a man stumble downstairs without a shirt as Marisol ran up to her bedroom.

The man ran a hand through his hair as he looked at Grey and Grey's Beta. "Yo, you're Grey Weston... hey, Marisol, did you know Grey Weston's in your house?"

"Yes, Brad! Be nice."

Brad squinted his eyes painfully, walking to the door, closing it. "So bright," he mumbled, walking through the living room to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass of water and sat down on the island, resting his head on his arms. Grey followed, clearly pissed off. "Who are you?"

Brad didn't bother looking up. "Are you always this kind?"

"Yes."

"What a shame, you were hot."

Grey looked at his Beta who attempted to hide his grin. "You didn't answer my question. I thought Marisol was single."

Brad looked up finally, laughing at the men before him. When he was finished he stood up, clapping his hands. "She is."

"Then who are you?"

"You're telling me she never talked about me? That bitch. I'm Brad. Technically, I'm her caregiver."

Grey relaxed, although he would talk to her later about who she chose to take care of her. She would no longer need Brad; she had him. He'd take care of her.

"Although, I can't say the same for Elijah."

"Who?" He could feel his eyes darken dangerously, though he kept his beast at bay.

"Damn! Do your eyes always change color like that? That's a condition, dude, go see a doctor. Wait, why are you here? You literally own a butler for your butler." Grey didn't want to tell him. He didn't answer. Brad looked up as he heard a giant crash from upstairs. "Why did she go upstairs?"

"She wanted to get dressed."

"You let a blind lady go get herself dressed?" Brad put down his glass and walked to the stairs. "Straight able-to-see ladies can't even dress themselves fashionably," he said as he ran up the stairs. As he came to Marisol's room, he could see her panicking next to her bed, biting her nails nervously. She must have sensed Brad's entrance because she groaned, waving her hands at the floor.

"First of all, yes I see the naked man in your bed," he said, whispering. "Second of all, why does it matter?"

"Because my soon-to-be baby daddy is downstairs!"

Brad's eyes widened. "Hold the fuck up, your baby daddy is Grey mother fucking Weston?"

"Yes! Now please, for the love of God, help me get dressed."

"Okay, okay, uh, dress, skirt, or jeans? Also, go wash your hair quick."

Marisol nodded, finding her way into the connected bathroom. "You choose!" She dropped the sheet, turning on the shower to clean herself. Brad came in with a nice blouse and jeans. As soon as she finished, he handed her a towel. As she got dressed, he worked on brushing through her dark hair. He put some product in before pinning two sides in the back.

"Okay, you're ready."

"Do I look okay?"

"Girl, you're hungover, and still look better than okay."

She nodded, nervously, walking out of her bathroom. Brad helped put her shoes on and when she was really ready, he handed her her phone and purse. She groaned towards the bed and sleeping man.

"I'll handle it," he said.

"Thank you," she whispered, making her way to the door.

"Girl, he's so hot."

"So I hear!" She squealed. He laughed as she walked back down the stairs. When she got to the bottom, she bit her lip, trying to hear Grey.

"I'm here."

She smiled as he grabbed her hand. She felt tingles shoot up her arm and she gasped, pleasantly.

"Ready?"

She nodded, following behind him, holding his hand. In the car, he sat with her in the back while someone else drove. She could only sense two people, so she assumed it was his driver. In the quiet, all she could hear was the steady breathing of Grey and the hum of the car. She smiled, leaning her head against the window.

"Have you read my file?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Did you like it?"

"You're asking me if I liked a file that had all personal information about you?"

"Yes."

She laughed. "It confirmed everything I thought was true."

"You had an image about me in your head already?"

"You're Grey Weston," she said lowering her voice for effect.

"Meaning?"

"On paper, you're practically perfect."

"And you don't think I am?"

She moved her head towards him. "Everyone has their scars. Some are just more physical than others."

He watched her as she smiled again. Sometimes when he looked at her, he felt like she was daydreaming or thinking about something that made her happy. She sometimes just smiled, randomly, like she was lost in her thoughts. He wondered how she saw without actually seeing.

"May I ask a personal question?"

"No, not at all. What part of being blind are you curious about?"

"I'm sorry–"

"Don't be. It's human nature to be curious. What I don't like is how people assume I'm in constant distress like I can't do anything myself. I don't like when people think I can't tell that they are staring at me or hear that they are talking about me. So, what did you want to ask?"

"I don't want to be rude."

"Just ask. Nothing is wrong with asking politely."

"Are you always so understanding?"

She dazzled him with another smile. "Is that your question?"

"One of them."

She shook her head, sighing. "When you lose something you've always had, it makes you think life is over. But really, life has just begun. Losing my eyesight has taught me a lot of things, one of them being you never know what someone else is going through."

"I want to help you. Through everything...are you completely blind?"

"Sometimes the darkness gets lighter and that's how I know if it's day or night, but besides that, I'm blinder than a bat."

"Do you always make self-deprecating jokes?"

"I have to make jokes about myself to make sure other assholes don't."

"Is there a way I can help you?"

"I'm kind of a klutz–"

"You can't see," he said with an obvious tint.

"Well, no, I can't, but it doesn't help that I have two left feet. Even when I could see I'd trip over a flat floor. What I mean," she said chuckling. "is that as long as someone shows me around a place, I can figure it out. Or if you show Tala around, she can lead me. I need help with stairs sometimes, or sidewalks that are broken. If you just guide me in the right direction, I'd be fine. Promise."

The car came to stop, and she waited as Grey got out and walked to her side. He opened the door, grabbing her hand to help her out. He wrapped his arm around her waist, to which she became a little startled. She didn't expect him to be so...hands on.

She could tell by the noise that they were somewhere busy, and when the sweet smell of syrup hit her nose, she knew it was a restaurant. It was only when the waitress welcomed them that she realized where they were. She looked at him, clearly shocked. "IHOP?"

"It's your favorite, right?"

She nodded, feeling him gently guide her to a booth. "You really did read my file."

"As you did mine."

She nodded.

"You remember why I asked you to breakfast?"

She nodded, but she lied. No, she didn't. She didn't remember at all.

"You don't."

She relaxed as she heard his deep chuckle. "I'm sorry."

"You're hungover."

"Just a little. My friends wanted to have fun one last time before I...well... you know."

"Before you're pregnant."

She blushed. "Yes."

"And Elijah?"

The blood drained from her face. Sex was normal, it was natural, and she was sure he's had sex as well, but to be honest, it felt awkward to tell him. She almost felt...guilty. She enjoyed sex, and that was perfectly fine. "He's a man I had a few sexual encounters with. Yesterday was the last night. I promise."

He was glad she couldn't see him. His eyes had changed, his hands splintered the wooden table, and his canines almost elongated as he realized his mate– his beautiful, blind mate –was taken by someone else.

"You're mad," she whispered. "I was horny and I know we agreed, but I'm not pregnant yet, so our rules do not apply. Oh god, that was tmi I'm so sorry."

"I am," he said deeply. "Not at you."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're allowed to have sex."

"I am?"

"Not while carrying my child with anyone but me, but yes."

"Wait, what?" He's been saying that over and over, but he's never actually spoken about it. The waitress came to take their order and he knew hers perfectly. She put so much information in that damn file.

As he handed the menu back, he had one mission in his head. She would never have to sleep with anyone else again. If she would have him, he'd fuck her senselessly for the rest of their lives.

Once their food came, he insisted on cutting her pancakes and she briefly wondered if he was this persistent now, how would he react when she was knocked up. When she was finished, he cleared their plates and took her hand. "What I wanted to talk to you about is the timeline."

"Timeline?"

"I'd like for us to go to the first doctor's appointment tomorrow."

"T-tomorrow?"

"Is that alright?"

This was what the plan, right? "Yes, it's fine."

So there is a slight COVID-19 subplot, but please understand that the severity may not be at the level it is at right now in real life. That being said, I may choose to make it far worse than it is in reality.

Just, PLEASE, practice social distancing and follow your state's/country's quarantine instructions as this book will NOT adequately depict them.