Jensen’s hand never leaves my thigh, like I’m his anchor point, but he’s twitchy. His leg bounces the entire drive, and I wish I could reassure him. But I’m just as anxious.
The clinic is one of those private places that costs a fortune and treats patients like VIP guests.
The walls are soft, muted colors, and the chairs in the waiting room look comfortable. No cheap plastic here.
I step toward them, but Jensen’s grip on my hand is firm as he guides us toward the exam rooms.
It’s then I realize other than Theo trailing us, there’s no one here but staff. I frown, my steps slowing.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
Without missing a beat or slowing his pace, my husband says, “I arranged for us to have the place to ourselves.”
I stop walking, digging my heels in. Jensen pauses, his fingers flexing in mine, while Theo becomes consumed with a poster about gestational diabetes.
I don’t take my eyes off my husband, who is shifting on his feet. “You… What? How?”
This isn’t a small clinic. Yes, it’s very high-end—that’s clear—but the amount of rooms suggests it’s should be busy with expectant parents. How in the fuck did he arrange for no patients for the hour we’ll be here?
Jensen moves into my space and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I paid a disgusting amount of money to a very greedy administrator.”
I blink and then I feel weird. It’s obscene. Unnecessarily so.
“I won’t die if there are other people in the waiting room, Jensen.”
“No, but I didn’t want you sitting around.”
Of course he didn’t. Only my husband would pay to have exclusive access to a clinic so I don’t have to wait to be seen.
“I didn’t cage you,” he says quickly. His voice dips, like he’s bracing for me to push back. “I just… I made it safe and easy for you. That’s all.”
He sure as hell did that.
I breathe out slowly. He’s trying. This is what compromise looks like for Jensen. He didn’t stop me from coming, he just made it palatable.
It’s still extreme, it’s still wrapped in fear, but it’s not suffocating. I’m not held back.
I sigh. “You’re crazy.”
“For you, yeah.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Rivers?” A nurse greets us before I can respond with a warm smile—the kind reserved for clients who paid through the nose for excessive politeness and and exclusive attention. “Welcome.”
She makes small talk as we’re led through to the room. The lights are low, and a technician sits at the ultrasound machine, waiting for us. She smiles as Jensen helps me onto the table.The paper rustles beneath me as I get settled, and once I am, I pull my leggings down over my belly and my shirt up under my breasts.
The technician squirts the gel on my stomach, and it’s cold enough to make me gasp.
“Sorry,” she murmurs. “That’s the worst part. Everybody always flinches.” Her tone is friendly enough to loosen some of the tightness in my chest.
Jensen’s fingers intertwine with mine, and I can feel the slight tremble running through him. I squeeze, letting him know I’m here, that we’re doing this together, and he bends to kiss my forehead.
Then the probe is pressed against my abdomen. The technician clicks a few things on her machine, silent for a moment while she works. I lock eyes with Jensen, and he stares down at me like I’m a gift he never expected.
“Okay,” the technician says finally. “Everything looks exactly as I’d expect for twelve weeks pregnant. Baby is measuring on track, fluid levels and placenta looks good.” She turns the screen to face us, and I blink at the tiny smudge on the screen. I was expecting it to look like it does in the movies—an undeniable baby shape—but it looks like a weird kidney bean.
“That’s our baby?” I ask, unable to hide the uncertainty in my voice.
The technician smiles. “It is. Baby’s still tiny, but we’ll see more at your next scan.”
