I glare at him while chewing. “Do not judge me. I just burned calories.”
That gets a laugh out of him. A real one, low and tired.
I point the jar at him. “Also, these are amazing.”
“I gathered.”
I eat another one, then another, and settle back against the pillows with the jar in my lap while he watches me like I’m the strangest creature he’s ever brought to bed.
“Pregnancy is very undignified,” I tell him.
“So I’m learning.”
I offer him one.
He takes it, suspicious, then immediately makes a face.
I laugh so hard I almost choke.
“That’s disgusting.”
“No,” I say, still laughing, “you’re weak.”
He takes the jar from me, sets it aside, and pulls me back against him anyway, one arm heavy around my waist. I can still feel his laughter in his chest.
“You are impossible,” he murmurs.
“And yet,” I say sleepily.
“And yet.”
The room quiets. The house quiets. At some point I must drift off, because the next thing I know I’m waking up in the dark with a hard, deep pain wrapping around my stomach.
I freeze. Then it hits again. Sharper this time.
Not the normal ache. Not the weight, or the pressure, or the little kicks that have become part of the background of my life.
This is different.
My breath catches.
Aleksei is awake immediately. “What is it?”
I press a hand to my belly and try to breathe through it. “I… I don’t know.”
He’s upright in a second, lamp on, eyes locked on my face. “Zatanna.”
Another pain grips me and I fold forward with a sound I cannot stop.
That’s enough for him.
He is out of bed, pulling on trousers, grabbing his phone, barking orders before I can tell him not to panic because I am already panicking enough for both of us.
“Car now. Call the doctor. Tell them we’re coming in.”
I can barely process the rest. He dresses me himself because my hands are shaking too badly to manage buttons. He gets my shoes on. He gets the blanket around my shoulders. He carries me downstairs before I can protest.
The ride to the hospital is a blur of streetlights and pain and his hand crushing mine in the backseat.
