And terror.
I’ve always worried about Mia’s safety, but now I have both of them to protect. She’ll need more guards. Tighter security. She doesn’t go anywhere alone again. Not now. Not with my baby inside her.
I’m going to lock down the entire damn universe to make sure nothing touches them.
I drop my head to her knees, my hand still splayed over her belly. “I’m… fucking perfect,” I breathe. “I love you—you and this baby. You have no idea how fucking much.”
Her fingers trail through my hair. “I love you too.”
“This belly—it’s mine. And I’m going to love every part of you. Big, round and beautiful. I can’t wait to see you swell with our baby. To feel what I did to you. To see it.”
“You’re crazy,” she murmurs, but there’s no heat behind her words.
“For you, yeah.” I lift my head. “This is why you couldn’t eat this morning.”
It’s not a question, but she answers it anyway. “I guess so. Loss of appetite and nausea is apparently a first trimester gift. It also explains why I can’t stand the smell of coffee anymore and why I’m so exhausted all the time.”
I freeze. All the time? “How long have you been feeling like this?”
“I don’t know. A week, maybe more. I wasn’t really paying attention…” She trails off, biting her bottom lip at the look on my face.
I take a slow breath, choking down the irritation clawing at me. “You felt shit for a week and didn’t say a word? You should’ve told me.”
My beautiful, independent wife stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Welcome to the con of having hormones and a uterus. It gets you a full-time subscription to feeling like shit eighty percent of the time, even without being pregnant.” Suddenly, I want to fight my wife’s body. Her palm rests over mine on her belly. “You look like you’re about to throw hands.”
“I should have done better,” I murmur. “You’ve been nauseous for a week at least.” A realization dawns on me. “Did you let me fuck you when you didn’t feel good?”
Her eyes soften instantly. “Oh. Jensen, no. You’ve never done anything to me that I didn’t want.” She leans forward and kisses me like she’s loving my doubts away. “I enjoyed every second.”
I believe her, but my mind is racing. Is Mia okay? Is the baby? “I’ll call Dr. Patel.”
Mia’s fingers close around my wrist before I can pull up her contact. “For what?”
“Because you’re pregnant,” I say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. I don’t like how pale she is either, now that I’m looking at her.
She blinks. “It’s a baby, not a terminal illness, Jensen. I don’t need to see our physician.”
“You’re exhausted and nauseous. You can’t even look at coffee without gagging?—”
“And I’m pregnant,” she cuts in. “It’s normal.” She cups my face, her thumb brushing over my jaw. “I know want to take care of me, but try not to suffocate me in the process.”
Try not to suffocate her?I’m already building plans in my mind. Contingencies. Adjustments.
She needs another bodyguard—no, two. One for gallery hours. One for home. No more last-minute errands. Everything needs to be planned. No runs with Juno for coffee. No wandering to the bookstore on her lunch break.
My thoughts veer into another lane. A far more terrifying one.
What if her bleeding wasn’t implantation like she thinks?
What if it was something else?
What if I’ve already failed them?
“I want Dr. Patel to see you today.” My voice is firmer now, steadier. I need the confirmation that everything is okay. That’s she’s okay.
“Jensen—”
I grip my phone like it’s a lifeline. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart. Please.”
