“Doyouwantcoffee?” The words tumbled out in a jumbled mess.
He nodded, then hit me with the kill shot.
“Do you want to hear his heartbeat? I have my stethoscope in my car.”
Yes, we could play doctors and nurses.
“Yes, please,” I croaked, then immediately wanted to vanish into the floorboards.
Did I just sound like a bad porno?
And why was my brain suddenly supplying filthy images of Dr. Vale—Elliott pressing that stethoscope to places definitely not medically necessary?
He smirked, as if he could hear every depraved thought, and turned toward the stairwell. I groaned for the second time that night before I began to put the perishables away. At least I had ground coffee beans for him. It was the least I could do for him since he had been so kind to me.
???
The coffee was long gone, but the warmth of Elliot’s hands lingered as I lay on the couch, his stethoscope gliding over my belly like a divining rod searching for gold.
Then he froze. A smile lit up his face, brighter than I’d ever seen. God, this man loved babies. Loved his job. Loved—
Wait. Why isn’t he handing me the stethoscope?
“Elliot?” My voice wavered.“Is everything okay?”
For a split second, something dark flickered in his eyes. Resentment?
But it vanished so fast I convinced myself that I’d imagined it.
“He’s perfect,” he whispered, not to me, but to my stomach, his lips nearly brushing my skin.
Okay. Weird.
But then he handed me the stethoscope, and I heard galloping horses. That’s what my son’s heartbeat sounded like. Loud. Strong. Alive. Silent tears streaked my cheeks. After weeks of fear, of pre-eclampsia and induction dates, this was all that mattered.
“I’m not going to my dad’s,” I sniffed.“Not this close to my induction date. Sam would probably hex my son.”
Elliot’s fingers brushed my knee.“I don’t mind going with you after he’s born.”
My head snapped up.
Was he serious?
Chapter 5
Elliot
Ithumbed her tears away, remembering she was only human and alone. She didn't know I’d been watching over her, keeping them both safe. Her neighbour, Thomas was gone, and my path was clear. When her face lit up like a Christmas tree at hearing my son’s heartbeat, I knew Elias had chosen the right womb for his rebirth.
Elias had chosen her. I had chosen her.
And in this moment, she was raw, hormonal, and desperate for reassurance. She was ripe for me to exploit.
“You’re doing so well,” I murmured, stroking her cheek.
Her breath hitched, but her soft eyes were full of gratitude and trust.
The voice in my head laughed.
