The door flung open and Sarah, who was more than halfway done with this pregnancy in both the literal and mental sense, glared hard at her brother.
"You don't bang and knock and yell at the door of a pregnant woman who cannot easily get up out of her chair when you are not in mortal danger or on fire!" Sarah exclaimed, looking her brother up and down. She was still a bit irritated with Berk, but at least he was in England and not across the world ignoring his unborn child. If she wasn't pregnant, if she hadn't just been thrust into the world of physical motherhood, she may have been more accepting of her brother's panic (especially since Dexter was too analytical or whatever to seem concerned). It was better now, and that was good. But she was still annoyed that he'd made her get up.
"You are not on fire," Sarah snipped, her hand pressed hard to her lower back as it had been quite difficult to stand up. Pregnancy was not an easy thing to learn how to deal with, and Brier better be bringing home that red velvet ice cream she'd whined for last night to make up for all this discomfort.
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