He lifts his head to look at me. “As long as we are married, I will be with you. Okay?”
A tear streams down my face. It’s just been too much.
“Okay.”
He kisses my lips and pulls a tissue from the box to wipe my eyes.
“And when you’re ready to leave, you let me know.”
Beckett’s office is more like a gentleman’s lounge than a medical suite. It has dark mahogany panels, brass fixtures, and old books lining the shelves. It smells faintly of leather and antiseptic.
Beckett leans back in his chair and flips through a file on a sleek tablet.
“Are those my medical records?” I ask.
“Yes. We have a system—a very pricey one—that allows me access to anyone’s file as long as I have their social security number. Appendix out at nine? Yikes. That must have been terrifying.” He flashes me a dashing smile.
Beckett is a few years younger than Griffin, but they share the same mature, confident energy. I can tell by the way they interact that they have been friends for a lifetime. Their calm demeanor eases my nerves.
“I thought it was the beef stroganoff, but I got to spend a few nights in the hospital and eat all the Jell-O I wanted. Every flavor.”
Griffin visibly shivers. “Oh God, now I might be sick. There’s nothing more vile than Jell-O. Our child shall never eat it.”
“It’s God’s food... what are you talking about?”
Both Beckett and Griffin look at me like I just sprouted a third head.
“Our kids aren’t really big fans either,” Beckett chimes in. “Scarlett insists on this Whole Foods organic brand that’s a little gummy. Maybe that’s why.”
Griffin looks nauseous. “Stop it, both of you. Glah... no Jell-O. I’m going to have rights as a father, and that is one I’m sticking to.”
I smile at Griffin. “Hateful... just hateful,” I tease.
I’m sitting on the exam table wearing my dress and heels. Beckett only had me disrobe for the scans. We’d been there an hour already, and I was starving. Griffin sits next to me, periodically reaching out to take my hand like Beckett is about to deliver a death sentence.
“So?” Griffin asks, voice low and impatient. “Tell me she’s okay.”
Beckett looks up, eyes clear and sharp. “She’s okay.”
I let out a slow breath. Griffin squeezes my hand.
“It’s nothing terminal or serious,” Beckett continues, offering a supportive smile. “You’re nauseous, vomiting, exhausted, and emotionally raw, but not because of anything catastrophic. You have gastroptosis.”
I blink. “Gastro-what?”
“Gastroptosis. It’s a benign condition where your stomach sits lower than normal. It can cause severe nausea and bloating. It happens when stress and hormonal changes hit all at once.” Beckett glances meaningfully at Griffin. “Things like a sudden pregnancy, unresolved emotional trauma, and a surprise marriage can definitely exacerbate it.”
I flush with embarrassment. “I knew it wasn’t just the baby.”
Beckett smiles warmly. “It’s manageable. Small meals, rest, light movement. You’ll feel better in a couple of weeks. I can recommend a specialist if you want a second opinion.”
“She doesn’t need a second opinion,” Griffin says, bringing my hand to his lips. “Do you?”
I shake my head. “I’m good. Thank you, Beckett.”
“Fantastic. I’m starving. Parson’s Deli is calling my name. I can practically taste the brisket.” Beckett closes his eyes, savoring the thought.
“I’m sure Selena is starving too,” Griffin says, helping me down.
