Things in the office must’ve been running more smoothly than usual because Dr. Hennessey entered the room with a friendly smile barely a minute after the nurse left. “Good morning, Callie and Ethan.”
Ethan didn’t move from his corner chair until I glanced toward him. Only then did he step forward, stopping beside me without touching.
The doctor washed her hands. “So, I understand you had a positive home test?”
I nodded, fingers curling in my lap. “Yes, several days ago.”
“Home tests are very accurate, but we can draw blood today to confirm hormone levels and establish a baseline. That will tell us how early the pregnancy is as well.”
“Yes,” I whispered, my throat feeling tight. “Please.”
Ethan’s voice followed mine. “Anything she needs.”
The doctor stepped out again to prepare the lab request. Ethan stared at the floor for a long moment before lifting his gaze to mine.
“I’ll be here for every single appointment, if you let me. Every blood draw.” His throat bobbed. “And you can keep me on speed dial for late-night cravings. I’m here for all of it.”
My hand drifted toward his on the corner of the exam table. He didn’t move a muscle, afraid to break whatever fragile permission I’d given.
The nurse interrupted the moment, returning to take my blood. The draw was quick, but I still hated every moment. It was much easier than last time, though. Ethan stood beside me the entire time. When the nurse tightened the tourniquet, my breath hitched and his hand closed gently around mine. He keptme steady while the vial filled and the nurse taped a cotton ball to my arm. A small redo for the appointment he’d missed.
When we walked out of the clinic together, he lingered by the door, as though unsure how close he was allowed to stand. His offer from earlier popped into my head. “You said you’d help with late-night cravings.”
He nodded. “Anything you need.”
“That’ll be easier if I’m at the penthouse,” I murmured, watching the way hope flickered in his expression before he forced it back down.
“It would.”
I reminded myself that this was about logistics when I arrived at the penthouse an hour later.
Ethan reached for my suitcases as soon as I stepped off the elevator. “Let me.”
I exhaled slowly, bracing myself for his reaction. “We’re sleeping in separate rooms.”
He nodded, letting his arms fall to his sides.
“We’re not a couple again,” I continued, forcing the words out before the ache in my chest could silence me. “Not right now.”
He swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“And couples therapy is non-negotiable.”
This time, he put a hand over his heart. “Whatever it takes.”
I tightened my grip on my suitcase handles, grounding myself. Then I stepped past him, pulling them behind me. “I’ve got it.”
It was a small boundary, more symbolic than anything. I wasn’t walking back into his waiting arms, and we both needed to understand the difference.
I rolled my suitcase down the hall, turning toward the larger of the guest rooms. Stepping inside, I froze.
The space looked completely different. A warm glow spilled from a standing lamp in the corner, on the other side of a large writing desk. It was the exact style I’d once pointed out in a boutique shop downtown. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the opposite wall, mostly empty except for a few volumes arranged neatly on the middle shelf.
My gaze drifted to a cozy reading chair angled toward the window, draped with a knit throw in my favorite shade of forest green. And on the desk, next to a brand-new monitor and a perfectly positioned laptop stand, was my favorite candle.
I reached out and brushed my fingertips over the desk. The wood was smooth and cool under my touch.
Ethan stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets as he watched me take everything in. “I wanted you to have a space that was yours. Something worthy of you.”
