Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (animal farm read .TXT) 📗

Before he succeeds, however, the green band on my wrist starts buzzing so aggressively it feels like it’s going to shake my hand off my wrist. “Oh, my word!” I flip my wrist up, to see what’s going on. My good mood vanishes, and my stomach falls straight to my feet. There, on my wristband are two blinking, entwined pink hearts.

Patrick manages to kill the music coming from his phone. “What was that, the cha-cha?”

I drop my still-buzzing wrist to my lap, the plate of delicious picnic food abandoned. I can’t believe I forgot. Fertile Week. After a minute or so, the buzzing stops. I feel physically rattled by the experience, and I can’t believe it’s going to do that every month—it’s so obnoxious.

Patrick is still looking at his phone, and hasn’t realized that I’ve checked out. “Huh, there are hearts on here. Why would it give me a heart alarm?” He clicks it. “Oh, it says—OH.” He finally looks up and sees my horrified expression. He glances over at Teddy and Faith. The pity on Faith’s face is plain, but Teddy chuckles.

“Mortifying, isn’t it? Let’s announce it to the whole world!” Teddy shakes his head in derision. “These people do not understand subtlety. Or privacy, for that matter.”

“Can we change the subject?” I blurt, wanting to pretend it never happened. Good luck with that, when the medical director wants to know why you didn’t track any extracurricular activities.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” Faith jumps in to rescue me.

“How much further away is this lighthouse, anyways? We’ve been hiking almost two hours,” Patrick asks.

“Not far, I think another half mile or so. But if you don’t want to finish the hike, we can all turn around, or the two of us can finish and you two could head back early . . .” she trails off.

“Nope, we’re good. Can’t wait to keep hiking!” My voice sounds high-pitched, even to me.

Teddy raises a single eyebrow and takes me in without a word. Faith bites her lip worriedly. Patrick reaches over, and places a hand gently on my arm, steadying me.

“I agree, can’t wait to see the lighthouse.” He picks my plate up, and hands it back to me. “But first, we need to eat this delicious lunch so we don’t have to carry it anymore. What do you think they put in these deviled eggs, anyways?”

“I’d wager paprika, and enough cayenne to remind you of the hellfire they came from.” Teddy pops one into his mouth whole.

I roll my eyes but am inwardly grateful to move on.

Fertile Week

Four hours later we walk back through the door of our cottage tired, sunburnt, and with a few new blisters apiece. The lighthouse was beautiful, and the view from the top was postcard-worthy. But the enjoyment wasn’t there for me when fertile week kept running through my panicked brain on repeat the entire time.  Patrick and I are just starting to get on better footing, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into bed, even if he is a knee-melting kisser. I wonder what he’s expecting now. Is he ready to take things to the next level, even though I’m not?

Patrick, blissfully unaware of my mental laps, drops the backpack off right inside the door and takes an exaggerated stretch which causes his chest muscles to flex impressively. I stare for a moment at the mesmerizing motion before heading to the kitchen, looking for a distraction. I don’t make it, though, because our blinking television display catches my eye.

The entire screen is blinking an obnoxious, bubblegum pink message.

Today is a very special day! It’s the beginning of your first fertile week here at Mairmont Honeymoon Resort. To commemorate this special time here with us, celebratory dinner and drinks will be catered to your cottage each evening. Additionally, all of your activities have automatically been pushed back five days to accommodate more time together. Good luck, and have fun!

The little kissy face at the end of that message makes me want to punch something. The message is pretty clear. Stay in, and get busy. Ugh.

Patrick walks up beside me, and takes in the flashing screen. “Do you think it’s going to stay like that for five whole days? The blinking is awful.” He holds his hand up to block the glare, and makes an exaggerated squinty face.

“I certainly hope not, or we’re going to have to abandon the living room. Especially since they so kindly cancelled all activities, and our ability to leave for dinner.” I can hear the anger rising in my own voice, and try again to tamp it down. What did you expect, Sadie? The whole point of this place is to get you knocked up.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, but I flinch back, and he withdraws it, furrowing his eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

I shrug and cross my arms, not even sure how to begin a conversation that says, “Hey, I know we’re starting to patch things up, but you should still stay on your side of the bed, ‘kay?”

After I’m silent for another long while, he tries again. “Is this about fertile week? Because I think we need to sit down and talk about that.”

I still don’t answer, instead I head straight into the kitchen. It may not be my kitchen back home, but it’s still familiar territory. When in doubt, bake. I start rummaging through the fridge and pull out eggs and butter before moving to the pantry and grabbing all my dry goods. This kitchen has a sleek blue stand mixer in the corner, and I can’t wait to get a little flour on it.

I locate the paddle attachment and get the oven preheating in silence while I wait for the microwave to beep, signaling that the butter has been softened to the perfect point. Then, on autopilot, I begin creaming up the butter and brown sugar. I hear a bar stool scrape against the wooden floor over the whirring of