“It’s not about the money,” I said. “It’s about my business. I can’t just drop everything.”
He closed the book again with a huff. His eyes flashed. “You need to take care of yourself now. You can’t work eighteen-hour days while you’re carrying my child.”
“Yourchild?” I asked. “Earlier today, it wasourchild.”
“You know what I mean.”
The thread of stress pulled a little tighter, fraying at the edges as panic began to take root. I took a deep breath. “Cal,” I said, forcing my voice to gentle. “My business is important to me. I can work and be pregnant. If you have a problem with that, I might as well move back to my apartment right now.”
His jaw clenched, and his hands tightened on the book. Then he inhaled through his nose, and his shoulders eased. He set the book down on the table and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I just…”
“Want to control everything so that nothing goes wrong?”
His gaze flicked up, and a rueful smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “You make me sound like some kind of psycho.”
The panic inside me faded. I stood, moved around the table, and sat down on his lap. Placing my hands on either side of Cal’s face, I pressed a kiss to his lips. “You’re not a psycho. I appreciate that you care. But I won’t let you lock me away for the next twenty-six weeks just to ease your fears.”
He closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. We stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other’s closeness, letting the stress melt from our bodies. Cal’s hands snuck under my shirt, warm palms stroking my back. I leaned my head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent.
“I’m terrified,” he finally said.
I kissed his neck. “I know.”
“I keep thinking I won’t be able to keep you or the baby safe. But it’s my responsibility. I have to.”
I lifted my head and looked in his eyes. “It’s not your responsibility alone. We’ll both be parents to this child. And I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”
He frowned at me but eventually nodded. Disquiet squirmed through me as I settled my head back down on his shoulder. He didn’t believe in my ability to take care of myself. Didn’t want to loosen his grip, even when it was what I needed.
But he’d bought the books, and he’d been there with me at the first scan. He’d organized a pelvic floor physiotherapist, and he was ready to support me in any way he could. I couldn’t turn my nose up at that just because his affection felt a little suffocating. We’d find stable ground. We’d figure this out.
We had to.
THIRTY-ONE
CALLUM
I found myself hovering a lot.Hovering around Deena until she snapped at me to leave her alone. Hovering around my chef while he prepared her food, making sure he washed everything properly and cooked everything thoroughly.
A week after her first scan, Deena sat down at the island and cut into the poached eggs Xavier had set in front of her. When she sliced into a solid yolk, her face fell. She looked up. “Do you mind making these again?” she asked. “I’m so sorry to be a pain, but I like them poached medium. I thought I mentioned that.”
“You did,” Xavier said, his eyes darting to me.
“You can’t have runny yolks,” I interrupted. “It’s on the list of foods to avoid.”
Deena’s eyes filled with tears. “Cal,” she said. “Come on. I’m in my second trimester now. You buy the best eggs money can buy. I just want a breakfast that tastes good.”
“Do you want to get salmonella and kill our baby?” I snapped.
Deena jerked back like I’d slapped her.
I exhaled, lifting my hands. “I’m sorry. I?—”
“Forget it,” she said, crossing the kitchen to open the fridge. “I’ll just have something else.” She grabbed a tub of hummus from the middle shelf and turned to the pantry, probably for crackers.
“You can’t have sesame, Deena,” I said, putting the container back. “Hummus has tahini, which is made from sesame. Salmonella risk.”
“For fuck’s sake,” she snapped. “WhatcanI eat?”
