I watch her eat for a second. I can’t help but notice the little amount of food she gave herself. She made plenty. I’m certainly not going to eat it all, and I’d like to think she knows that.
“You eat a big lunch or something?”
“No, why?”
“You’re not eating much.”
She shrugs.
“Aren’t you, like, always supposed to be hungry?”
She laughs. “Yeah, but I don’t want to gain a hundred pounds.”
I lean back against the chair. “You’re not. And so what if you do? If you’re hungry, then eat. Baby needs it.”
“Where’d you read that?” She bats her eyes.
“Nowhere. I just know that’s kinda how that works.”
I reach to spoon more soup into her bowl and put another piece of bread on her napkin.
She sighs. “My ex was sorta on me about my weight, so…”
My jaw clenches.
“He’d make comments like, “You’re so worried about gaining weight, yet you’re eatingthat,” and it just…I don’t know. Every time I step on that scale, I just cringe.”
I stare at her, my blood thickening. “Where’d you say he lived?”
She shakes her head, letting out a quick laugh. “Cody, stop.”
I do, but not in my head. Because I’m picturing it…finding this lowlife, looking him dead in the eye, and making sure he understands what happens when you talk to a woman like that. Especially a woman bearingyourchild.
I shove her bowl a little closer. “Eat,” I say, low.
She hesitates, then tears off a piece of bread and dips it in the soup.
If I ever cross paths with him, even by accident, he’ll learn real quick that some things you don’t get away with.
* * *
The hiss of the deflating blood pressure cuff cuts through the quiet room, followed by the sharp tear of Velcro. The nurse’s brow furrows as she glances at the reading.
“It’s 150 over 90. Definitely high again,” she says, her voice steady but laced with concern.
My back straightens, muscles tensing. Again?
Karissa shifts on the crinkly paper lining the exam table. “I’m just nervous,” she blurts out before the nurse can say anything else.
The nurse doesn’t argue. She gives a polite smile, but it’s clear she’s already made a mental note. “It was high last week too,” she says quietly, then excuses herself to get the doctor, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft click.
The silence that settles between us feels heavier than it should.
“You’re that nervous?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light, but the tension still sits in my chest.
Karissa shrugs one shoulder, looking away. “I don’t like doctors.”
“Well, okay, but try and relax. That’s really high.”
