"Yes. I can assure you that there are several excellent doctors and nurses onboard." She added hastily.
"We will be sending your medical information along with you." Dr. Friedmann told her. "And liaising with them. I would advise you not to overdo it. We want you to get plenty of rests and whatever exercise you can manage. And stay off your feet as much as possible."
"I will see to it."
"What do you mean? I will not have someone watching my every move."
"That someone will be me." He told her calmly. "I will be on that cruise." He shook his head as he rose. "Don't even bother wasting your breath by arguing, it's a done deal." Turning away, he nodded to the doctors. "May I speak with you outside?"
*****
She fumed all the way back to his place and turned her head away, refusing to talk to him. As if fate was acting against her, she was starting to feel queasy and dizzy. Not only that, but she was tired. She blamed it on the period of inactivity of the last couple of weeks. She was used to getting up and going.
For two weeks, she had been catered to, spending most of the time in bed. She certainly did not appreciate being babysat. She was a grown ass woman and wasn't the first or the last to be pregnant with triplets.
There was a whole community on social media of mothers who had gone through multiple pregnancies and birth. Some of the stories had scared the crap out of her, especially one mother who had lost all three and almost lost her life. Then another who had lost two, with only one surviving.
She was scared. After not being sure she wanted to be pregnant, she had reluctantly started to bond with the lives growing inside her. So much so that she had been researching names and reading up on what to expect when expecting multiples. She was also listening to classical music as science proved that it was geared towards having smarter children with excellent brain functions.
Before she could shove the door and march from the car, he was around to take her hand.
"I'm not an invalid." She snapped.
"I never said you were. You can be mad at me all you want, but I told you that I'm here and I intend to keep my word." He took her hand, resisting her effort to pull away from him. "Watch your step, there's a patch of ice--"
"What did I ever do before you came into my life?" She asked sweetly as they skirted the icy path. "I spent my entire life learning to navigate my way before, but apparently that's not enough."
"This is different." Letting go of her hand, he unlocked the lock, determined not to allow her temper to kindle his. "You were not pregnant then. Let me--"
"I can take off my own damn coat." Her eyes flashed fire as she shrugged out of the jacket and marched over to the closet to hang it up.
"I'll let Mrs. Bailey know you want to have supper brought up to the bedroom."
"Did I say I wanted to go lie down? No. I'll be in the library. I need to make some calls." She flounced away and stalked down the hallway, leaving him standing there, fighting to keep his temper in check.
He was going to put up with her temper, her bitchiness if it killed him. By God, the woman was impossible and made him want to commit murder! Taking several deep breaths to level his blood pressure, he turned towards the kitchen area to alert the housekeeper they were back.
He had to pass the library to go to his den and stood just out of sight. He did not relish another round of argument with her. And the doctors had warned him to keep her free from stress as much as possible. The bloody woman was stress itself, he thought moodily.
She was seated, not around the desk as he expected but curled up on a sofa near to the window and just staring out at the wintry mix of snow and sleet. She looked forlorn. That was the mostappropriate word he could come up with, and he felt his heart turning over.
She had a right to be angry, he reluctantly acknowledged. And scared. He knew that she had been perusing the different social media platforms in order to know what she was up against. He had read them too.
Knowledge was power and he wanted to be armed with it. He had seen the dismal reports. Babies not making it to full term, mothers at risk for preeclampsia, postpartum depression and so much more.
He wished he could take some of it away from her and he felt helpless and guilty. It was his family's side that had her carrying multiples and she was taking all the risks. He loved her and hated the fact that she had to go through all of it.
He just wanted it over. When he could not persuade her or bully her to take time off, he had shuffled his schedule so that he could go with her. He wanted to be close to keep an eye on her. And it did not matter how angry she was. He was sticking close.
He had taken a step forward when he stopped. He should give her some space, a time to cool off. Stepping out of sight, he turned around and took another route. He would give her time to let off steam before he bullied her into eating something.Shaking his head wryly, he wondered how the hell he was going to get through the next few months without killing her.
She refused to cry. She had come inside the library to try and calm down, but it was not working. She was pissed at the world. And she felt helpless.
She was not used to feeling helpless. Her stomach felt sore and she was fatigued. That was the worst. She felt as if she just wanted to crawl into bed and pull the sheets over her. And sleep for a week.
Her bladder was very active. She had rushed to the bathroom as soon as she stepped into the room and, by all indications, she would be going again in another few minutes. Having three babies pressing down on that particular organ was not a walk in the park.
And she was showing. Three months pregnant and she was starting to show. All hopes of hiding it from the people on the ship had been shot to hell. Her usual costumes, the skimpy dresses would no longer do.
