I'm Pregnant

W͟i͟n͟t͟e͟r͟

I'm almost drowning in a sea of bags. Blake didn't stop at buying stuff at the beach shop. We've gone to at least five more shops. And now he's got me stopped in front of a jewelry store. It doesn't look like a chain store. It's like a quaint, fancy looking, mom and pop shop. Soft blue and white radiate from the walls, making the deep blue velvet that lines the displays pop.

I have my feet planted at the entrance of the shop, refusing to step in. He's already probably spent hundreds on me and there's no way I'm letting him spend however many thousands he's planning on.

"I can't," I protest. He tries to persuade me gently, like most normal people would. He asks several times, tugs on my hand in an effort to pull me in. He does everything short of actually begging. I half expect him to give in but I don't expect him to do what he does after my fifth rejection.

He dramatically collapses onto his knees in front of me, bags rustling around him. "Please," he begs, fixing those