The mate of his nanny

Chapter 76: Temper

Edrick

The next day after our minor argument, I was happy to see that Moana took me up on my offer and decided to take the day off. I insisted that she let the driver take her wherever she wanted to go. She left in a bit of a huff, holding her belly through her summer dress in the elevator, but as the door closed, I knew that she would come home feeling much better later. In the future, I told myself that I would make sure she had more time off; this much stress was only bad for the baby, so if she needed any time to rest and relax, then I would allow it.
However, Moana was late coming home that night. I began to get a little worried when she wasn't even home in time for dinner, and found myself involuntarily looking out the window every five minutes to see if she was coming.

Finally, just as I was about to call her, I saw the car pull up out front and let out a sigh of relief. I watched as she walked into the building, then waited for her to take the elevator up. When the doors finally slid open and she walked into the foyer, she immediately met my gaze.

"You were out late," I said. "I was about to call you."

She shrugged. "It's my day off. I'm an adult, so you don't need to worry about me."

For the second day in a row, Moana was being sarcastic and cold toward me. What did I do to piss her off so much like this? Frowning, I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm allowed to wonder where the mother of my baby is past dark in this big city," I said.

Moana merely scoffed. "I was only at the orphanage," she replied. "Besides, why do you care? It's not your baby, right? Just some other man's mistake?"

"So that's what this is about?" I asked, splaying my hands out with my palms up, feeling incredulous.

"You eavesdropped on my conversation with my mother?"

Moana rolled her eyes and began to storm off toward her room, but I wasn't having it. After all of the waiting and worrying about her all night, I had finally had enough. I had been so understanding, and even gave her an extra day off! Before she could storm away, I quickly ran up to her and put myself between her and the doorway.

"Don't just run away," I insisted. "Have a real conversation with me."

She waved her hand dismissively. I noticed that she didn't seem to even want to look at me, and now she turned around to storm off in the other direction, toward the kitchen. "It's completely unimportant," she said. I followed her and watched as she walked to the fridge, opened it, then took out a pitcher of iced tea and poured herself a glass. Her hands seemed to be shaking.

"Did you eat dinner?" I asked.

Moana scoffed again. "Why do you care?"

"Because," I reiterated, "you are carrying my child in your belly. You've hardly eaten for the past two days. The last thing you, I, the baby, or anyone else needs is for you to collapse and wind up in the hospital. I mean..." I let out a wry, disbelieving chuckle. "What has gotten into you?"

"What has gotten into me?" Moana asked through gritted teeth. She slammed the pitcher back down in the fridge, then turned toward me and pressed her palms firmly into the countertop. "First," she said, counting on her fingers now, "you scrambled to pay off that photographer on the night we went out for dinner. Then, you can't even be bothered to refer to me in any sort of personal way at the hospital until we were behind closed doors, because it might tarnish your pristine reputation to be in association with a lowly human..."

"Moana, that's not-" I began, but she cut me off.

"That's not even all of it!" she snarled. "You've done nothing but treat me with a hot and cold attitude since you met me. One day, you're sweet and kind and caring. Then, the next day, you're distant and can't even look me in the eye. The only reason why you even come close to treating me like an equal is because of this baby, and I was willing to accept that! But then you can't even admit to your own mother that the baby is yours? You have to make me out to be impregnated by another mystery man? Don't you realize how that sounds?"

As she spoke, Moana absentmindedly stormed out of the kitchen and back into the living room. I followed, partially listening to what she was saying, but also partially because I was worried she might do something rash in her current angry state.

"You know," she said, her voice still raised, "I thought that you were really starting to see me as an equal. I thought that our relationship was unconventional, but that it would be okay because you would love our child, and that was all that mattered. But now, I think that our baby will only grow up feeling even more alone than I do in this household. No other family members, no friends, having to constantly fear cameras, and not even being accepted by his or her own father. Just money. Money can't fill the void that parental love is supposed to fill!"

Suddenly, she picked up a pillow off of the couch in her fit of anger and chucked it as hard as she could - not at me, but at the floor with a surprising amount of force for such a petite pregnant woman.
When she was finished, the room fell silent, filled only by the sounds of her breathing harshly through her nostrils. We both stared incredulously at the discarded pillow; I had to stifle a bit of a smirk at the ridiculousness of the situation and the comical choice of throwing a pillow on the floor. Even in a state of fury, Moana was still level-headed enough to only throw something soft, rather than choosing something heavy or breakable like so many angry people might choose.

When I lifted my gaze from the pillow, I looked into her eyes, only to see that they were filled with more than just annoyance and anger... but rather a deep-seated pain and bitterness. I felt both cornered and guilty; how could I explain to her that I was just put on the spot by my mother, and that I was planning on announcing the baby to her in due time? She wouldn't even believe me anyway, and the longer I thought about it, the more I realized that it was a weak excuse anyway. Maybe I was just being cruel by claiming that the baby in Moana's belly belonged to a mystery man. Maybe I should have been a man and admitted that the baby was mine.

At that moment, I knew I was wrong. And for some reason, I wanted to hold her. Without a word, I walked past the discarded pillow and pulled her tightly into my arms.