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But I force myself to ignore the desire and walk to the kitchen. I unpack the groceries, trying not to let her nap trouble me.
Lately, she seems sick. It started three weeks ago when I noticed she was napping almost every day.
Then she caught the flu and hasn’t been able to shake it. She throws up sometimes for no reason. She also gets cravings for dairy products, which is why I brought home the ingredients for her favorite extra cheesy lasagna.
Michael told me once that the one symptom he regretted ignoring was Nicole’s persistent tiredness. At the time, he’d brushed it off as a consequence of their fast-paced lifestyle.
I haven’t told him about my concerns yet. I don’t want to put him through that hell if this turns out to be nothing.
He never did fire me from Alpha Defense Industries and while there were a couple of tense days, he seems to have mellowed and forgiven me.
I suspect his decision has something to do with the fact that he’s married to his personal assistant now. Katie is a good influence on him.
I slip the lasagna into the oven as Atlas creeps into the kitchen. She wraps her arms around my abdomen, spooning me from behind.
“Did you have a good nap, sleepyhead?” I set the kitchen timer then turn to study her face, looking for any tell-tale signs that she’s sick. But there are no bags under her eyes, and she looks the way she always does when she sees me. Happy.
She nods. “Why are you making me dinner? It’s my turn to cook.” She moves to the sink. “Then I’m on clean up duty.”
I stalk over to her and gesture to the island. “No, you’re not. You’re going to sit down and tell me about your day.”
She frowns. “But—"
I smack her ass. I love the fact that she wears just her panties when she’s at home with me. I also love how easy that makes it to spank her whenever I get the urge.
She scowls but doesn’t try to argue with me again.
Instead, she grabs a chocolate milk from the fridge and takes a seat on one of the barstools at the island. “I wanted to do the grocery shopping. I just needed to sleep for a little bit first.”
“It’s not a problem,” I reassure her as I wash the salad. Since she’s been sick, I’m trying to encourage her to eat as many fruits and vegetables as possible. I’m hoping the extra vitamins will help her.
“You have a doctor’s appointment Thursday afternoon. I checked your schedule before I made it and I’ve already taken the time off work.”
She frowns at me. “Why?”
“You haven’t been well.” I don’t look at her while I rinse the romaine lettuce. I don’t want her thinking about her mom and making the same connection I have.
I’ve infiltrated enemy camps, jumped out of moving airplanes, and traveled through remote stretches of jungle with only a few survival supplies strapped to my back. None of it has ever worried me.
But the thought of losing Atlas fucking terrifies me.
“Eric, look at me.”
I school my features, hoping she won’t read it on my face.
“I don’t think I’m sick.”
I’m not sure if it’s denial or a positive attitude. Either way, there’s no reason for her to worry yet. I’m doing enough of that for both of us. “I know you’re not sick. But it’ll put my mind at ease.”
She finishes her chocolate milk in one final chug. She grasps the end of her black t-shirt, twisting it around her fingers.
“I’m not sick,” she repeats.
I abandon the salad and step around the island. I pull her into my embrace, and she wraps her arms around me. “It’s OK to be scared. Whatever happens, I’m here for you, baby.”
She pulls away from me to stare into my eyes. “There’s a pregnancy test in my purse. I’ve had it with me since yesterday. I just haven’t taken it yet.”
The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. All these things that I thought meant she was sick—could they mean something else entirely?
