one step forward, two steps back

Maeve

It was kind of working before the breeze caused the bridge to sway, but she's not about to admit that. Especially when she's trying desperately to keep her shit together. Maeve doesn't have any retorts for him right now. Any sass that was left has been whisked away by the breeze. She does listen to him, though.

Her breathing doesn't slow and her heart continues to beat erratically against her chest, keeping her from really centering herself as she wills her feet to move, not wanting to seem like such a coward to him even if it's way too late for that. She just wants it to be done and that's ultimately what gets her legs to work again. Maeve shuffles the last few steps forward, very aware of the tears stinging her eyes and the way her stomach rolls violently, but it isn't until her feet touch onto solid ground that she lurches forward.

Moving faster than he's likely expecting, Maeve disappears into the underbrush before promptly bracing her hands against her knees and losing the contents of her stomach. Morning sickness (more like anytime sickness) and stress do not mix. Apparently neither does pregnancy and heights. The more you know.

But the cut of your love never hurts, baby
It's a sweet butter knife