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“Why?” I exclaim, worried there’s something wrong with our baby. “Is something wrong?” Ashton holds my hand tightly, lending me strength while I hold my breath and wait for the doctor to answer.

“I just want to be extra careful,” he replies in that clinical manner. “Your hormone levels are normal, and there are no signs of complications. Your tests show you’re healthy, and the embryo appears to be developing as expected, but I’d like to monitor you for a bit longer. We’ll keep you here until we get all the results back.”

I nod slowly, trying to absorb his words amid my racing thoughts. Somehow, his reassurance helps to calm my fears. “Thank you,” I say, genuine appreciation coloring my tone.

He offers a reassuring smile before walking toward the door. “I’ll check in with you later.”

I wake slowly, the soft sound of rustling sheets pulling me from the grasp of sleep. The sterile smell of the hospital lingers around me, and as I blink away the remnants of dreams, the morning light filters in through the window. But it’s not the bright glare that catches my attention; it’s the figure sprawled out on the uncomfortable pull-out sofa across the room.

Ashton is fast asleep, his long frame stretched out against the white hospital bedding. His head is tilted back slightly with a relaxed expression. My heart flutters crazily as I watch him for a moment, soaking in the way his dark hair curls a little bit at his temples and the hint of a smile on his lips.

Last night, I told him to go home and sleep in a real bed, but he adamantly refused to leave me here alone.

After a few minutes of watching him sleep, the door creaks open, and the doctor strides into the room. His calm demeanor fills the space around us. “Good morning, Emily! How are we feeling today?”

Ashton sits up and rubs his neck as I reply. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck.” I’m only half joking. After the adrenaline wore off, I started aching in places I didn’t even know I had.

The doctor chuckles lightly. “Well, given everything you’ve been through, that’s not surprising. But I have some good news for you.”

I sit up straighter, trying to ignore the slight discomfort as my muscles protest. Relief overwhelms me at the encouraging look on the doctor’s face. “Really?”

“You’re doing great. Your blood work came back normal, and given how you’ve been responding, I see no reason to keep you here.” He glances over at Ashton, smiling. “You’re cleared to go home, but I want you to schedule a follow-up appointment with your own doctor.”

“I’m so freaking glad,” I exclaim as excitement bursts through the soreness.

“Just remember, take it easy for a bit. Your body has been through a lot, so don’t push it,” he advises, making notes on the chart before looking back at me.

“Of course,” I agree, hardly able to contain my smile. “Thank you!”

It doesn’t take long for us to be discharged with a pile of paperwork and instructions. As we drive back to his house, the familiar landscape of Silver Spoon Falls rolls past. The sun is shining bright, casting a soft golden glow, and warms up the winter day. I glance over at Ashton, who’s casually driving with both hands on the wheel, the tension from earlier days replaced with relief.

Once we arrive at his house, I step inside and let the warmth envelop me like a favorite blanket. “Welcome home,” he says with an affectionate grin, kicking off his shoes and leading me to the living room. “Sit there and relax while I make us something for lunch.”

With the fire crackling softly in the background, I sit back on the comfy sofa and fall fast asleep. A while later, I wake up to the faint scent of something delicious wafting in from the kitchen. “What’s cooking?” I ask, curiosity piquing as I wander toward the comforting smell.

Ashton looks up from the stove and smirks. “I ordered lasagna from the 5th Avenue Diner.” He shrugs and reaches into the refrigerator to grab the pitcher of cold water. “They make the best lasagna around.” He pours a glass and hands it to me. “Sit down and talk to me while I plate our dinner.”

I sit at the breakfast bar, half-amused and completely grateful. “You really don’t have to wait on me like this. I’m not an invalid.”

“I know you aren’t, but I’m going to make sure you take it easy for the next several days.” He winks and turns around to grab the lasagna from the oven.

As the days pass, I find myself settling into this new routine. Ashton is utterly devoted. He anticipates my needs, fusses over me, and even brings me decaffeinated coffee in bed each morning with a goofy smile plastered across his face.

“Breakfast is served!” he announces one morning, entering my room with a tray piled high with pancakes, fresh fruit, and bacon. The sight makes me all warm and fuzzy inside until he hands me a cup of coffee. For some reason, the smell alone sends me rushing to the bathroom.

Ashton kneels down next to me as I dry heave over the toilet. “Are you okay?” He lifts up my hair and runs a wet washcloth over the back of my neck while his child makes his presence known.

“I’m peachy,” I mutter as my stomach finally starts to settle.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” He helps me to my feet, and I place a hand on his chest.

“Wait.” I halt him. “Can you get rid of the coffee before I come out?” His eyes widen as he realizes my favorite thing in the whole world turns my stomach now that I’m pregnant.

“Fuck.” He winces and rushes out of the bathroom to do as I asked.

By the time he comes back, I’ve snuggled back under the covers. I stick my nose out and grumble, “I can’t believe your child won’t let me have coffee.”

“I’m sorry.” He sits on the edge of the bed and teases me, “Don’t worry. We’ll remind him of it every time he gets in trouble.”