Thank God.
My shoulders relax. My jaw unclenches. Avery's fingers tighten around mine, and when I look at her, the fear is gone from her gaze. Just relief now. Raw and uncomplicated, the kind that doesn't need words. In response, I lift her hand and press my mouth to her knuckles.
The tech confirms what the sound already told us. The baby's perfect, no signs of distress. With that, the unit is wheeled out. For a moment it's just us and the fading echo of that heartbeat. I take a seat on the edge of the bed and lean down to kiss Avery’s forehead, closing my eyes and simply breathing her in.
The doctor returns shortly after. "No complications. No concerns." She addresses Avery directly, practical and reassuring. "What happened today is a combination of mild dehydration, low blood sugar, a warm environment, and the restrictive fit of the garment. It’s not uncommon in the first trimester. And the good news is, it’s very manageable."
She goes on to offer preventive advice. Small, frequent meals. Water within arm's reach at all times. No coffee or tea. Avoid periods of prolonged standing and refrain from wearing restrictive clothing.
She pauses. "Most importantly, wherever possible, minimize stress."
Avery nods. “Thank you, doctor.”
The young physician wishes us well, tells us someone will be back with discharge instructions, then excuses herself. The privacy curtain whisks back into place behind her.
Minimize stress.Lately, our lives have been nothing but stress.
As for the rest of it, the dehydration, low blood sugar, too long on her feet, those things can be immediately improved. I’ll do my damnedest to make sure Avery is taking care of herself and not pushing herself too hard.
I think back to the half-croissant she barely touched this morning. The frequent nausea that’s made her turn gray even at the mention of breakfast. Now this. Fainting in the middle of the day
I glance at her and find her watching me instead. "I’m sorry I put you through this today," she says.
“Don’t.” I frown. "You didn't do anything wrong. Christ. I’m the one who did this to you."
“Did what? Knocked me up?” She smiles. “I seem to recall being a very willing participant.”
I chuckle in spite of myself. “You know what I mean. You’re going through all of this alone and all I can do is watch. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Nick, I’m fine. I can handle this.” A playful smirk lifts the corner of her mouth. “Ask me again in a few months when I’m big as a house and full of hormones, and I might have a different answer.”
I move in closer to her, reaching down to her flat stomach. “I can’t wait to see you big and round with my baby.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah. You’re going to be the sexiest pregnant woman. You already are.”
Leaning down, I lift her chin on the edge of my fingers and brush my lips over hers in an unhurried kiss. I could go on kissing her for a lot longer, but the sound of the privacy curtain opening makes us draw apart like a couple of teenagers caught making out in the back of a car.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the discharge nurse says as she enters with paperwork. She indicates where Avery needs to sign, then lets us know we’re free to leave.
I take the printed instructions we’re given and slide them into my jacket pocket. Then I walk Avery back out to my car. The uniformed man at the door gives me a nod, then rushes out ahead of me to help. I get Avery settled into the passenger seat while the guard waves other vehicles around us to give us space.
“Everything okay I hope, Mr. Baine?” he asks once I close Avery’s door.
“Yes. All good, thanks.” I pull a hundred-dollar bill from the cash in my suit jacket and discreetly hand it to him. “And thank you for letting me leave my car here.”
“No problem,” he says, grinning as he pockets the tip.
I head around to the driver's side, and pull into the traffic heading south. Avery's eyes are closed before we hit the firstlight. Not asleep, just decompressing. Her breathing hasn't dropped into that deeper rhythm, but I can tell she’s spent. Now that everything is behind us, she’s content to let the day be over.
The city moves past us as I drive us toward home. None of it registering.
Minimize stress.
The doctor’s words circle back in the quiet. I glance at Avery. She's shifted toward me in the seat, her body curved in my direction the way it curls toward me in sleep. Her left hand rests on her belly, the diamond engagement ring on her finger catching what's left of the afternoon light.
Fuck. Our life right now is full of things that could stress Avery. The tabloid ambush two weeks ago. The paparazzi staking out our building. The security detail I put on her that she never wanted. The numerous dress fittings. The wedding guest list that started at a hundred and metastasized to three-hundred-plus because of my business relationships and the social obligations I couldn't turn down. Then there’s the rest of it. The publicists. The photographers. The caterers. The florists. The venue coordinator. The rehearsal dinner logistics.
