Whitefish River Wheat kings and pretty things

The way she turned to address him, it was perhaps, the first time she was not completely consumed by annoyance and immediately trying to get rid of him. It pained him to see her finally look at him this way, to talk to him this way, and yet, to think, she was already out of his reach. Fuck! How he wished he could smell her and see for himself if some other man's scent was all over her - instead of being stuck asking the hard questions. 

Shaking his head, Nothing's wrong. Unaware that perhaps she was concerned for the wounds slathered across him from the cat's attack, frankly, he forgot all about them if someone didn't remind him every now and then. But - how should he go about this?! Umm... How can he do this without upsetting her somehow?

You look... positively glowing, by the way. Is what he managed to mutter first. You know I can't smell... so, I was curious... are you pregnant? There! The words were out. He awaited her response without a breath in his lungs. He knew what answer he didn't want to hear. He knew he didn't want to hear that she was with a man, that his heart would shred at the sound.