This place looks normal, almost boring.
But this isn’t normal.
Nothing about my life is anymore.
A tall man wearing a crisp white shirt and tan slacks opens the door and steps out onto the top step.
As I climb out of the car, his eyes land on me, and he offers me a warm smile that I find I don’t have the energy to return.
A woman appears beside him, wiping her hands on a flour-covered apron, and I notice her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of Ciara’s swollen belly.
“Dr. Allen,” Ronan greets as he places a firm hand on Ciara’s waist.
“I wish I was meeting your wife under different circumstances.” Dr. Allen steps aside to let Ronan and Ciara pass.
I follow behind, keeping my eyes down to avoid the sympathetic looks from both the doctor and his wife.
The house smells faintly of antiseptic and freshly baked bread. The combination makes my stomach churn, and my mouth fill with saliva.
I force myself to breathe through my mouth. The last thing I need is to vomit all over the doctor’s expensive rug.
“My wife needs to rest,” Ronan says firmly to Dr. Allen once we’re safely inside.
Ciara nods, though her lips curve in a soft smile. “I’m fine, Ronan. Really.”
He doesn’t answer, but his arm tightens around her waist in a protective manner.
I understand now the fear that has been weighing on Ronan. The fear of losing someone you love.
When Ciara is settled in one of the bedrooms, Ronan lingers in the doorway, his gaze flicking between me and his wife.
“Promise me you’ll keep an eye on her.”
I don’t even have to think about it. “I will.”
“If anything feels off, anything, you tell Dr. Allen immediately.”
“I promise.”
His eyes soften slightly as he looks back at Ciara, and for a moment, he reminds me so much of Kieran that I almost burst into tears.
The way he’s all hard edges and sharp lines, except for the eyes. They’re the eyes of a man who would burn the world down if it meant saving the woman he loved.
“Ronan.” Ciara sighs.
He’s at her side in an instant, dropping down beside the bed and taking her hand in his.
I stand awkwardly in the doorway, feeling my own heart ache as I watch the two of them say their goodbyes.
When Ronan gets to his feet, I can tell it costs him something to walk away, and the look in Ciara’s eyes tells me it costs her just as much to watch him go.
“You would think I was made of glass,” she mutters once his footsteps have disappeared down the stairs.
“He just loves you.” I cross over to the bed and perch on the edge.
“Smothers me, more like.” But there’s warmth in her tone as she strokes her belly.
I fiddle with my hands in my lap, thinking of the tiny life that is growing inside me.
