Not My Type (4 page)

"Huge, huh? In his pants, right?" He
flashed her that cocky grin she loved so much.

"Definitely in his pants. And his ego,
and his lack of humility, and his..."

He threw a strawberry at her. "You
just wait until after the doctor visit. If he says you're just
trying to get my attention, I'll drag you back here, tie you up,
spank the shit out of you, and fuck you until you go
blind."

Her panties were soaked instantly. She
loved it when he tied her up, for any reason. "God, I love it when
you talk like that. Can we do that instead of the
doctor?"

Picking up the strawberry from its
resting place on the floor beside her chair, he knelt next to her
and kissed her soundly. Her food forgotten, she wrapped herself
around him and devoured his kiss as though it was the most
delicious gourmet meal she'd ever encountered. He finally broke the
kiss and rested his forehead against hers. "No, babe. We need to
find out what that was about. Trust me?"

She nodded. With a sigh of frustrated
sexual tension, they both moved away from each other and got ready
to leave for the doctor's office. Joe had already made an emergency
appointment and the clinic was waiting for them. She dressed in
jeans and one of Joe's sweatshirts; February near the Pacific Ocean
was pretty damn cold. She stared out the window while Joe drove the
Land Rover the short distance to the doctor's office, watching the
slate, sage, and cream colors of the ocean tumble over one another
to rush in and soak the tan and brown colors of the
shore.

At the clinic, there was no waiting
for the pair of them. The receptionist ushered them to a room with
an examining table in the center, a black stool near a low counter
stocked with tongue depressors, cotton balls, and a sharps
container. A nurse drew a vial of Elsa's blood; Joe held her while
she whimpered. She hated needles and had not been warned there
would be needles involved.

There was a brief wait for the doctor,
allowing Elsa to get a grip on herself. A tall, exceedingly thin
man, Dr. Edwards smiled at them reassuringly and the comfort of his
familiarity was a relief. The doctor examined her and asked her
several questions, Joe hovering in the background like the world's
largest mother hen, his thumbnail chewed to the quick, his other
hand gripping Elsa's where it rested on the examining
table.

"Type 2 Diabetes, in very prolonged
cases, can often lead to serious complications," Dr. Edwards
explained to the shocked pair. At her side, Joe gripped her hand
tightly and she returned his fierceness with hers. She felt dizzy
again, and tried to concentrate on the doctor's words.

"If you don't get a handle on this,
the anxiety attacks, low blood sugar symptoms, and other possible
side effects can seriously harm your health."

"Is that what that was? An anxiety
attack?"

"It sounds more likely that your blood
sugar spiked dangerously. Had you eaten at all yesterday before the
big proposal feast? Which, by the way, allow me to congratulate you
both on the engagement," he added with a paternal smile.

The pair of them nodded at him in
thanks. "I didn't eat all day..." Elsa said slowly, remembering. "I
only tasted a few things while I was cooking, but I forgot to eat
before work. Then we had champagne but that's never bothered me
before."

"That's what I thought. You can't go
all day long without eating and then flood your body with glucose.
Your body reacted to the blood sugar spike in a negative way,
causing the trembling in your hands and the dizziness. The anxiety
attack afterward was likely your body's reaction to the stress of
the situation. Let me go and get you some reading material for Type
2 Diabetes and we'll talk about medication and how to get it under
control."

"Medication?" Joe asked,
worried.

"Not shots," Dr. Edwards
assured him. Elsa's fear of shots was legendary, and Dr. Edwards
knew better than most. He'd been her doctor for years, since she
moved here from her parents' house to accept the job at the
Sandpiper.
Long enough to know to have the
nurse draw blood without warning her first,
Elsa thought with a bit of anger.

The doctor left them alone and Elsa
turned her stricken face to Joe's. He came and sat next to her on
the table's padded surface, the paper crinkling under them. He kept
hold of her hand and stroked the back of it with his unchewed
thumb. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, feeling the
hot pressure of tears prickling under her closed eyelids. "I
thought...I mean, I had hoped..." she whispered. She couldn't
continue, a lump in her throat suddenly preventing her from
speaking.

"You thought the same thing I did this
morning, I'll bet. That you were...pregnant?" Joe's voice was soft
with regret.

She nodded, her forehead still planted
on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and that's how Dr.
Edwards found them when he came back in.

"I know it's a shock but really, this
is very treatable Elsa, Joe. The main treatment is going to be a
change in lifestyle. Now, I know this is tough with a job as a
chef, but you're really going to have to change your diet first and
foremost."

"But...what about my cookbook? How am
I going to test recipes for it?"

"Healthy cooking is all the rage
nowadays, I understand," Dr. Edwards replied with a kind smile.
"Just change your focus. Use this opportunity to educate others and
invite them on the journey to a healthy lifestyle with you. And I
don't have to tell you that Joe here is going to be your greatest
ally."

Elsa smiled tremulously,
and nodded in agreement. Joe was never sick but always made sure to
get a yearly physical. He met Elsa so soon after moving to Elk
Crossing that he just took her word on the best doctor in town.
Turned out that Dr. Edwards was the
only
doctor in town, but that didn't
matter. He was kind, remembered everything about all of his
patients, and made sure to personally call and follow up on
everyone he treated.

Joe caught the implied message to him
in the doctor's statement and nodded his head in agreement. He
would see to Elsa's success in getting this disease under
control.

"I'm prescribing Metformin; it helps
to regulate your blood sugar. There are a few side effects, such as
nausea, but those will pass as your body adjusts to the medication.
I'm also going to have to insist you follow a strict diet, at least
to start, and get plenty of exercise. You may have noticed over the
past few months an increase in your thirst?" he arched an eyebrow
in inquiry.

"I guess so...," she began but Joe
interrupted. "Yes. She's constantly thirsty but she mostly drinks
coffee." She gave him a dark look.

"Well, no more of that. One cup of
coffee a day and drink plenty of water. That will help with the
nausea and will also help with the weight loss."

"How much weight do I need to lose?"
Elsa felt utterly defeated. Everyone in her life had been right.
Her weight was a problem and now it was making her sick. She
already felt nauseous without the benefit of a pill to blame.
Wistfully, she recalled how she'd felt when Joe admitted he thought
she was pregnant, too. If only that were the case.

The doctor continued to give
instructions but Elsa was no longer listening. She was depressed
and wanted to go home. She waited politely for him to finish
speaking, but in spite of his empathetic voice and Joe's strong,
supportive presence at her side, all Elsa could hear were the words
'fat girl' echoing over and over in her head.

Chapter Five:
Wallowing

Elsa didn't have much to say on the
car ride home. Joe respected her need for silence and let her
digest the new reality of the situation. He knew there was going to
be a rough road ahead, and possibly more than a few fights and
nights of tears. But he loved her. He'd do whatever it took to make
her healthy and happy at the same time.

Joe was nearly as upset about the
diagnosis as his intended bride. He liked Elsa's curves, dammit,
and he knew they were about to melt away from her. In spite of his
great size, perfect physique, and endless love for her, Joe was
also suddenly worried about what impending weight loss would mean
to their relationship; what if she became someone else? Someone
that didn't love a six-foot-five, hot-blooded guy like him? He knew
he wasn't perfect in spite of what she continuously told him. He
could be moody. He had a temper. He was emotional, sometimes. He
could be rough in the bedroom; not every woman wanted that. Elsa
always had before but what if weight loss made her less...able to
take it? He brooded about it until they reached the driveway. He
decided, as he put the Rover into park and turned off the ignition,
he would put those thoughts out of his mind. They didn't help him,
or her, and his main goal was to focus on her. This was going to be
hard enough without his doubts creeping in between them. He half
turned in his seat to talk to her huddled form.

"Babe. Honey. Look at me."

She turned her tear stained face
toward him and he melted. He hadn't noticed she'd been crying the
whole way home, too busy worrying about himself. "Oh sweetheart,
please don't." He reached across the seats and cupped her heart
shaped face in his hands, then brushed the tears away with his
thumbs. "Have a little faith in me, okay? This is what I do. I help
people all the time in exactly this situation. Only in this case,
I'll give it a hundred and ten percent because you are the woman I
want to spend the rest of my life with."

"You still do? Even though I'm so
disgusting I have to have a doctor tell me to lose weight before I
get it? A woman so gross that even though my whole family has
always told me to do something about it, I ignored them completely?
Me? How could you ever love someone like me?" All of her
insecurities came pouring out of her, to her shock and horror; she
couldn't seem to stem the tide of viciousness aimed at herself that
she let wash over Joe like a filthy tide of self
loathing.

Joe was momentarily at a loss, struck
speechless as she continued to call herself worse things. He knew
she had serious, deep down issues with her weight but he always
thought she had most of a handle on it. Finally, he interjected;
now he was angry.

"Elsa! I never want to hear you say
those things about yourself again, do you fucking hear
me?"

His words echoed like thunder in the
confined space of the vehicle. His angry scowl was like Zeus in the
heavens making ready to toss thunderbolts upon disobedient mortals.
But Elsa was not afraid of him. Rather, she was upset with herself
for saying all of those things in front of him and with a wretched
cry, she flung open the door of the car and fled to the house,
slamming the front door behind her.

Joe sighed. He hadn't meant to lose
his temper but he couldn't hear her tearing herself down like that.
He followed behind her at a slower pace, knowing this was just the
first in a round of many battles to come. He just hoped her love
for him was strong enough to survive his love for her.

He dropped the keys and his jacket off
on the foyer bench and went to the deserted living room. Elsa was
not there. He finally located her by finding Spike whining outside
of the bedroom door. He could hear her sobbing through the door.
Joe knelt down by Spike and patted the little bat-eared creature on
his round little head. "Tough days ahead, little guy," he murmured.
The dog whined again in response.

Joe knocked on the bedroom door.
"Elsa?"

She didn't answer. He gingerly turned
the knob and entered the darkened bedroom. He could see a mound of
blankets in the middle of the bed where she hid from him and maybe
from herself as well. "Babe. Come out of there, please? I'm sorry I
yelled."

"I deserved it. I don't deserve
you."

"Goddammit Elsa, what do you want me
to do to convince you?"

She was silent for a minute. Then,
very faintly, he heard, "Fuck me. Like you promised to this
morning, before...everything."

Joe Malone was not a guy you had to
tell twice, particularly if you were the woman he loved. Instantly,
he was rock hard. He strode to the bed and yanked the blankets from
her. She turned onto her back, surprised at his violent reaction
for a moment until she saw the heat in his eyes and answered it
with some heat of her own.

This
. This was an unbreakable bond between them. He gripped her
ankles and pulled her to him, daring her with his gaze to try and
get away. This was a game they both loved to play and for a while,
all of the turbulent emotions of the day would be washed from them,
swept away like the sea sweeps the shoreline at tide's
rising.

She clutched at the sheets as he
dragged her inexorably to him, pulling back, testing the waters to
see how hard he wanted it to be. His tightening grip on her ankles
told her what she wanted to know. She increased her efforts to
escape by tenfold, making him work at his task. With a growl, he
jerked her toward himself in a mighty surge of muscles and wrapped
his hand in her long hair, forcing her head back and giving him
control over her. "Be still," he commanded. Her eyes answered his
orders, her compliance tainted with a desire to disobey, merely so
he would punish her. He quickly stripped her clothes off of her,
shredding her underwear in the process.