After the sonographer has finished taking all the measurements, Jensen gently cleans my belly and helps me sit up. He settles my sweater over the swell of my bump, his hands lingering there for a moment.
“You ready?” His eyes are filled with tender, soft devotion.
I nod and he guides me off the table, steadying my hips when my feet hit the floor. He doesn’t say a word as he slips his fingers into mine, leading me back through the clinic. It’s still empty, only Theo waiting for us in one of the squishy chairs.
He comes to his feet as we approach, scanning both of us as if he’s expecting to see wounds.
I hand him the printed picture of our daughter.
And Theo—built like a tank, hired to take a bullet for me Theo—swallows like he’s choking on his own tears.
“It’s a girl,” I say.
Theo lifts his gaze between the two of us, taking in my teary smile and Jensen’s frozen deer in headlights expression. He stares for a beat, like he’s checking to see if my husband is losing his mind. “You good, boss?”
Jensen exhales. It’s dramatic and loud. “I’m fine.”
Theo’s brow lifts a hair. “Your eye’s doing the thing.”
I turn to look.Oh, yeah.It is. It’s doing that twitch thing he does when he’s anxious. I know he’s happy we’re having a girl, but his stress just doubled in the last five minutes. He’s never going to have a moment’s peace between me and our daughter. He’s probably already running through security strategies faster than a Secret Service agent.
“I’m not doing anything,” Jensen grumbles. “I’m perfectly calm.”
I bite my lip to hold back the laugh bubbling behind my teeth when Theo doesn’t let up.
“You want me to grab a paper bag for you to breathe into, or…?” Theo trails off, which makes Jensen scowl.
“I don’t need a paper bag.”
“Sure you don’t.”
“Theo, ease up on him. He’s suffering,” I say, curling against Jensen’s side as we walk, trying to soften my teasing.
“You’re both evil,” he mutters.
I poke his side. “We’ll be fine, besides the first ten years will be tea parties and dolls. It’s the teen years where you’ll need to take up day-drinking.”
NINETEEN
MIA
We headout to the clinic’s parking lot. Theo stays close, scanning as we walk.
Always looking for danger.
Always keeping us safe.
As soon as we’re in the car and Theo starts the engine, Jensen says to me, “You hungry, baby?”
“I’m five months pregnant. I’m always hungry.”
His hand gravitates to my bump, resting over our daughter.
Our daughter.
“You want to stop and get lunch?”
“Obviously.”
