“They can wait.” I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes. “Right now, I just want to be here with you.”
“The three of us,” Fern corrects.
I place my hand over hers, where it still rests against her stomach, and I feel something settle into place inside my chest. A sense of rightness. A sense of purpose.
“The three of us,” I repeat, and the words feel like the most important promise of my lifetime.
Chapter 25 - Fern
Three months pregnant, and I’m already waddling.
Okay, maybe not waddling exactly, but my body has definitely changed in ways I wasn’t prepared for. The morning sickness has mostly subsided, thank God, but now I’m dealing with exhaustion that hits like a freight train around two in the afternoon. Skylar warned me that shifter pregnancies progress faster and hit harder than human ones. She wasn’t exaggerating.
I lean against the doorframe of my office at the medical center, watching the activity in the hallway. I’m only supposed to be here three days a week now, but I keep finding excuses to pop in on my days off.
“You’re supposed to be at home.”
I turn to find Skylar standing behind me, arms crossed and a knowing look on her face.
“I’m just checking on a few things.”
“You were just checking on a few things yesterday. And the day before that.” She raises an eyebrow. “Connor is going to kill me if he finds out I let you stay here past noon.”
“Connor doesn’t control my schedule.”
“No, but he does have a tendency to show up and physically remove you from the premises when you push yourself too hard.” Skylar’s mouth twitches. “Which, if I remember correctly, has happened at least three times in the past two weeks.”
I open my mouth to argue, but before I can get a word out, a familiar voice echoes down the hallway.
“Fern.”
Connor rounds the corner, and even after three months of this—of us—my heart still does a little flip at the sight of him. He’s wearing jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that stretches across his shoulders in a way that should be illegal.
“Hey,” I manage.
“Hey, yourself.” He stops in front of me and looks me up and down, taking in the shadows under my eyes and the way I’m leaning against the doorframe for support. “You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re dead on your feet.” He turns to Skylar. “How long has she been here?”
“Since eight this morning,” Skylar replies without a moment’s pause.
“Traitor,” I mutter.
“Fern, it’s almost three. You’ve been here for seven hours.”
“I took a lunch break.”
“Did you actually eat, or did you just sit in the break room and answer emails?”
I don’t have a good answer for that, so I stay quiet.
Connor sighs and steps closer, cupping my face in his hands. His touch is gentle despite the frustration in his voice. “You need to rest. The baby needs you to rest. Please let me take you home.”
“I have things to finish.”
“They can wait until tomorrow. Or better yet, they can wait until someone else handles them.” He drops his hands andreaches for mine instead, threading our fingers together. “Come on. I’m not asking anymore.”
