This week every part of my body hurts. There’s a deep dragging ache that started two days ago in my pelvis and hasn’t let up, no matter how many warm baths I have.
This pregnancy is slowly becoming one long battle between me and my body, and spoiler: I’m not winning.
I rub slow circles over my hip while I read through a proposal, swaying slightly to take the pressure off my lower back. It’s not working, but I can’t stop moving. Standing still is too painful.
“Jacob Landry called. He’s looking for another painting of yours.” Juno leans against the desk, clutching a mug of coffee in her hands.
“I’m surprised he can move with all the artwork he’s bought in the last year.” All of it mine, and yeah, I do find it weird how obsessed this man is with my pieces, but one sale pays most of my overheads for the year—including Juno’s wages.
“He’s probably got a Mia shrine,” Juno jokes.
I glare at her. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“He’s harmless. Just enthusiastic.” She tilts her head at me as I arch my spine. “Is your back still hurting?”
It’s the third time she’s asked it in the last two hours. “If by hurting you mean I feel like I’ve been kicked in the spine until I can’t sit without wanting to cry, then yes.”
Juno snorts loud enough to startle a customer looking at a display a few feet from us. “Specific. Also, horrible.” She leans against the desk. “You need anything?”
I close the file and sigh. “No, I’m okay. I’m just grumpy.”
I’m more than grumpy. I’m seventeen weeks, but I feel like I’m in my third trimester.
And not because of my bump. That’s still small and tucked neatly beneath my sweater.
It’s everything else.
I knew pregnancy would be tough, but I didn’t expect to feel so drained and wrung out this early. I just got over weeks of morning sickness and was getting my glow.
Then this endless aching began.
I’d rather go to back to puking.
I lean my arms on the desk and bend over, pushing my ass out to stretch my back. Is it glamorous? No. But it helps, and that’s all I care about.
Theo lifts his head like a meerkat, narrows his eyes, then shakes his head and looks back at the screen. He’s used to me being dramatic since I got pregnant.
“I don’t suppose you know a good chiropractor?” I groan.
Juno’s nose wrinkles. “Sorry. I’ve only ever had my back cracked like a glow stick once and that wasn’t by a doctor.” She gets a dreamy look in her eyes. “Man, I miss Tyler. The things that men could do with his tongue?—”
“Juno!”
She blinks. “What? Girl, don’t stand there clutching your pearls at me. I know Jensen rearranges your insides with just a look.”
Fair, but I still I blush. “Can we not talk about my husband and my insides?”
The gallery door clicks, but I don’t look until Juno says, “Well, we can’t now he’s here.”
I feel the change in the air before she finishes talking. I lift my head as Jensen strolls toward me. Prowls, really. His eyes track me like I’m his target and he’s zeroing in on his mark.
My lips part just a fraction to let out the breath lodged in my throat. He’s wearing his suit, the jacket missing. His shirt sleeves are rolled up his thick muscular forearms, and his tie is loosened in a way that looks too sexy to be legal.
How does he look so good when I feel like roadkill?
My smile is soft as I straighten, eyes locked on him until he’s in front of me.
Even though we’ve only been apart for six hours my knees are weak, and my arms wrap around him as his fingers span over my waist, pulling me closer.
