My Fiance Kept a Mermaid, and She Thought She Owned My Home Chapter 03
At three in the morning, I went looking for my migraine
medication and found Orson still beside the habitat, cleaning up the latest disaster.
He knew Calder had bought Bonnie largely because her
mermaid pearl might help with my migraines.
When he saw the medication in my hand, he hesitated.
“Ms. Harker… should I take the pearl out first?”
“It might finally help with your migraines.”
I swallowed the pills and waved him off.
“No.”
“It would probably hurt like hell.”
“And I already told her I’d release her once she recovered. I’m
not going back on my word.”
There was another reason I didn’t mention.
I could already imagine Bonnie screaming that I had tortured
her while Calder was away.
And that fish could SCREAM.
If she kept it up all night, my migraine would kill me before
the pearl ever got the chance to save me,
I was still thinking about it when I realized the room had
gone suspiciously quiet. I looked toward the habitat.
Empty.
“Where’s Bonnie?”
Orson avoided my eyes.
My stomach dropped.
Then, looking like a kid caught breaking curfew, he pointed
toward the dark corner of the room.
“Ms. Harker, I wasn’t trying to go against your instructions,
but her scales weren’t regenerating. After she spent all day
slamming herself into the wall, she tore the skin underneath wide open.”
“I had to get her out and disinfect the wounds or she could’ve
died. At that point, forget the pearl–we’d be lucky to have a
living mermaid left.”
I exhaled.
“Okay. That’s fine.”
Calder had hired Orson because he had more than a decade
of experience caring for rare marine animals.
Bonnie was easily the biggest disaster of his entire career.
Still, as long as she wasn’t dead, we could work with it.
And I couldn’t exactly go back to bed while Orson dealt with
everything alone.
What I’d never imagined was that one day I’d be crouched on
the floor at three in the morning disinfecting a mermaid.
By the time we’d gone through the tenth bottle of antiseptic,
I was exhausted enough to commit a felony.
And every disaster of the past few days had the same root
cause: Calder Whitlock and his stupid mouth.
I grabbed my phone, ready to call him and demand that he
get his ass home.
He could come home and tell that ridiculous fish to her face
that he wasn’t interested. If he didn’t, he could forget about marrying me.
Unfortunately, his phone was off.
I was about to unleash a barrage of texts when Orson
suddenly went still.
He stared at Bonnie.
Then at me.
“Ms. Harker.” His face went serious. “I think this fish is pregnant.”