“Of course,” he says.
I pull the blanket tighter around myself. “Do not sound like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m adorable for suggesting basic legal access requirements.”
“You are an attorney. I would expect nothing less.”
I narrow my eyes, well aware he’s making fun of me.
He simply finishes typing out his message and sets his phone on the side table.
“I am sending someone for your laptop. With your key.”
“Thank you.”
The almost-smile fades, but some of the hard edge has gone with it.
My hand moves to my stomach before I can stop it.
His eyes follow, and the air leaves him.
I feel it from across the space between us, that single silent shift in him, as if the whole world has tilted beneath his feet.
I close my fingers into the blanket over my abdomen.
“I’m pregnant.”
For a moment, he says nothing.
He does not move. He only looks at me, then at my hand, then back to my face.
The silence stretches long enough for fear to crawl up my throat.
“I took three tests,” I say quickly. “They were all positive. I know it needs to be confirmed properly. I know it’s early. Very early. I know there are things that can happen, but Dr. Santoro knows, and he said everything looks all right so far, but I need follow-up care and bloodwork and—”
“Victoria.”
My mouth closes.
His gentle voice makes my eyes burn.
He stands, then stops before taking a step toward me.
“May I come closer?” he asks.
That breaks me a little.
I nod, afraid to speak.
The first tear slips before I can stop it.
He crosses the space slowly and lowers himself onto the couch beside me. Not touching at first. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of him, the weight of him, the restraint in him.
Then he lifts one hand and wipes the tear from my cheek with his thumb.
“Pregnant,” he says.
