“Day’s not over yet.”
I snort, but my chest feels weirdly lighter.
“You sure you wanna tell Moreno today?” he asks, still watching me closely.
“No.” I exhale. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
“I know,” I say, reaching to squeeze his hand. “But I should do this part myself. Then I’ll tell him about us in a few weeks. Space out the bombshells.”
He nods, and I feel no pressure, just quiet understanding as he squeezes my hand in return.
The drive back to the clinic is short. He pulls into the parking lot and shifts into park, but neither of us moves right away.
“Hey.”
Reid’s eyes are unreadable for half a second, then he leans in again and presses a soft kiss to my cheek and speaks quietly against my skin.
“I’m proud of you, Havoc.”
The words land before I can brace for them.
He draws back just enough to meet my eyes. “In case no one has told you recently.”
Something sharp lodges in my throat, and I look away too fast, blinking hard as my fingers fumble for the door handle.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “You’re gonna make me cry in a clinic parking lot.”
He shrugs, calm as anything. “Better here than in front of Moreno.”
“Great.” I snort, wiping at the corner of my eye with the back of my hand. “Thanks for the support.”
“You’re welcome,” he says dryly. “Now go in there and tell him you’re a badass.”
***
I’d booked the meeting a few days ago, claiming I had a personal health update to discuss. I kept it vague because I wanted to control the when and how.
Jenny had slotted me into Moreno’s admin time, fifteen minutes between athlete consults and surgery planning. Whichmeans, of course, Jenny is here, seated in the corner with her notepad open and her glasses perched on the tip of her nose like a smug little gargoyle.
“Dr. Park,” Moreno says as I step in. “Everything alright?”
“Yes.” I nod once, then sit across from him. “I wanted to inform you that I’m twelve weeks pregnant.”
Jenny makes a sharp, theatrical gasp, and Moreno blinks, then sits up slightly. “I see.”
“I’m feeling well, the pregnancy is low-risk, and I don’t foresee any disruption to my surgical schedule for the foreseeable future.”
He nods. “Alright, thank you for letting me know. Obviously, we’ll work around any medical needs as they arise. The expected due date?”
“Mid-November.”
“Well, uh… Congratulations,” he says, like he’s checking a box. “Are you planning to stay on through the second trimester?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “I’ll aim to wrap surgeries around thirty-two weeks—possibly thirty-four, depending on how I’m tracking. I’ve already flagged it with the hospital for backup rotations.”
“Fine by me. You’ll want to hand off any scheduled players by August, then.”
