Breaking Selma

The night was still young when a car pulled up in front of a cozy cottage in Vale. The cold air bit at Jamal's nose as he stepped out, sneezing repeatedly. Selma, already reaching for her bag, was stopped by his hand over hers.

"Selma, you must be crazy if you think I'm letting my pregnant wife carry her own bags."

She leaned in, whispering against his ear, "Then I'm crazy." With a playful challenge, she made for the door, "Because I sure as hell will carry this inside. I'm pregnant, Jamal, not a handicap."

His glare burned into her back as she climbed the steps, but a squeal escaped her when he swept her off her feet. "But I'm not crazy," he murmured, "and you sure as hell won't."

Her fists pounded his chest like King Kong, a reaction he clearly didn't expect, momentarily loosening his grip. He snatched her closer. "Would you stop your childish fit? You could injure yourself."

Before she could protest, a spray of liquid hit her face as Jamal sneezed again. "Did you just—" His laughter drowned her words as he carried her into the warm house, setting her gently on her feet. Before she could retaliate, his hands wrapped around her wrists.

"I'm sorry, love," he grinned, amusement dancing in his eyes, making her giggle. "Now that I'm forgiven, would you come play nurse with me?"

"You could have said that in plain words instead of sneezing all over my face, you know? Now take the bags in and go settle down in bed, I'll be back with something."