I don’t.
I take a tiny bite, and he exhales into my hair. We’ve learned the hard way to test first whether my stomach is going to accept food or send it as an offering to the toilet gods.
When I don’t retch, I take another bite. His body loosens behind me, his relief clear.
“You don’t have to watch every bite I take,” I tease him, but only lightly.
Jensen struggled more than I did in the first trimester, though since I hit twelve weeks things have calmed down a lot.
He spears a grape and piece of strawberry before he offers the fork to me. “I enjoy watching you eat. You’re making our baby grow strong with every mouthful you take.” He spreads his palm over my belly, his fingers pressing against me. I love the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel like I’m his.
There’s a pause before he adds, “I’m sorry if it’s too much. I’m… I’m trying.”
I sit a little straighter in his lap. “I don’t want you to stop loving me or taking care of me, Jensen. I love when you’re like this. It only becomes a problem when you stop me from living.” I swallow the fruit and kiss his stubbled jaw. “You’re doing better,” I say, and his throat bobs, like he doesn’t know what to do with the praise. “And I don’t feel caged with this. I feel cherished.”
His thumb caresses over my stomach. “You are cherished. You’re the single most important thing in the world.”
I melt into his lap like he’s the only thing keeping me upright and my mind wanders to the day ahead. To the appointment we need to leave for in the next thirty minutes.
“I’m nervous,” I admit in barely a whisper.
His thumb strokes over my nape. “Me too.”
My brow lifts as I twist to look at him. Jensen isn’t afraid of anything—other than me leaving him. “You are?”
A flicker of amusement crosses his face. “You didn’t think I would be?” His hand rests on my thigh before he spreads it over my stomach. “We’ll see our baby today. Of course I’m nervous.”
I cover his hand, my chest full as I try to imagine how it’ll feel to see our child for the first time. “She’s only the size of a lime right now.”
His fingers twitch against me as he freezes. “She?”
I shift my shoulders. I don’t know if our baby is a girl, but it feels like she is. Maybe it’s a sixth sense or mom intuition. “It’s just a feeling.”
He groans dramatically. “Beautiful, there’s no force in this world cruel enough to give me a daughter.”
I pull back slightly, his words settling like ugly barbs. What does he mean by that? Is he set on having a boy? “You don’t want a girl?”
His expression is pained. “Mia, if we have a daughter, I’ll end up in jail. You think I’m going to watch some pencil dick asshole with my daughter? You think I’ll be able to sit by while she dates losers? You think I’m staying sane in that situation?”
Oh. Now I get it.He’s in full protective dad mode. I snort. “You can’t beat up any man who talks to her, Jensen.”
“You don’t think so? I have enough money to move mountains literally. You think one little boy is going to be a problem?” His eyes darken.
I laugh, mostly because I’m not sure if he’s joking. “I think we have to let our kid make their own way. But you’d make an amazing father to any daughter we ever have.”
“Princess, don’t test me right now.” He sounds tortured when he says it.
I let him off the hook. “We won’t know what we’re having today. They can’t tell that until the anatomy scan.”
He tilts my chin with two fingers, studying my mouth like it’s scripture. “Girl, boy—all I want is healthy and happy.”
“That’s all I want too,” I agree.
FIFTEEN
MIA
By the timewe leave for the clinic, both of us are a ball of nerves. Theo drives us, glancing in the rearview mirror when he thinks we’re not looking. I think he’s almost as anxious as we are.
