Tucker
Exactly. Practical.
Despite everything, I smile.
Thank you. For all of it. It's really thoughtful.
Tucker
You're welcome. Appointment at 2, right?
Yes.
Tucker
I'll be home by 1:30 to pick you up.
I set the phone down and look around the apartment again. Our apartment. With all these baby supplies. With Tucker thinking ahead, preparing, making space for me and the twins.
This is real. This is actually happening.
I'm having babies with Tucker Stag.
And I'm living with him and his expensive tastes.
I need coffee. Or tea. Something with caffeine that won't make me puke.
Dr. Patel's office is becoming familiar—the same motivational posters, the same exam table, the same sterile smell. Same Tucker Stag sitting beside me, note app open on his phone, recording everything from my vitals to my comments on the temperature of the room.
"Blood pressure is good," the nurse says, making a note on her own tablet. "Weight is up three pounds since last visit, which is perfect. Any concerns?"
"She's exhausted all the time," Tucker says before I can answer. "Like, falling asleep sitting up. Is that normal?"
The nurse looks at me for confirmation. I nod reluctantly.
"Very normal, especially in the first trimester going into the second." She makes another note. "Are you able to rest when you need to?"
"I'm trying," I say. "I have school?—"
"She's taking an incomplete in one class," Tucker interrupts again. "But she's still stressed about it. And she just moved. Is there anything I can do to help?"
The nurse frowns. “I need Sloane to answer her own medical questions, sir.”
His eyes widen. “I’m doing it again. I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”
Something in my chest softens at the genuine concern in his voice. He's not asking for himself—he's advocating for me.
“He’s right,” I assert. “I moved in with Tucker, hoping to ease stress and get more rest.”
"Rest is crucial," the nurse says. "Especially with twins. If you're feeling overwhelmed, don't push through it. Listen to your body."
"She has coursework to finish," Tucker presses. "How can I help her balance that with needing rest?"
The nurse looks between us, a small smile forming. "It sounds like you're already helping by being aware. Make sure she's eating regularly—small meals throughout the day. Encourage naps. Take over household tasks so she doesn't have to worry about them." She looks at me. "And Sloane, let him help. Pride doesn't grow healthy babies."
"I'm not—" I start, then stop because she's kind of right. I am being proud. Stubborn about accepting help.
"I'll make sure she rests," Tucker says firmly, typing furiously on his phone. Has he always looked this good when he’s concentrating?
