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He looked so forlorn that my heart melted, but only just a little, enough to not kick him out of the hospital. The rest of my heart, I decided petulantly, was hard as stone. "I'm angry with you. The baby is fine," I muttered, looking away from him.
He smelled so good, and I wanted to lean into him. He'd been such a great husband for a minute and then he'd ruined it; broken me, broken us.
"May I stay, Elsa?"
The uncertainty in my usually confident husband grated on my nerves. I didn’t want him to beg, but I didn’t know how to fix things. I couldn’t unbreak my heart.
The baby kicked, and I gasped.
"What happened? Are you okay?" The panic in his voice was almost sweet—it meant he cared about me and our baby.
I smiled tentatively at him. "She's kicking," I whispered. Because he looked so bereft, I took his left hand and placed it on my belly so he, too, could feel our baby. Our daughter had just started to make her presence known. A few weeks ago, it was just flutters, but now there were solid kicks that went right to my bladder.
He put his second hand on my stomach as well, and the awe on his face made me want to tell him, "It's all forgiven. Come home, be with us."
"Oh, baby," he breathed reverently, stroking my stomach, soothing my baby and me.Andarousing me as well.
I understood that I was hormonal, and Duncan was my first and only lover, so when I thought about sex, I invariably thought about him. I was also madly in love with him and sometimes that emotion was way stronger than anger and bitterness.
"This is the most amazing feeling, isn’t it?" His face was bright; lit up despite the bags under his eyes.
I looked at him, my emotions a tumultuous storm. "Yes," I admitted quietly, and then, because I couldn't stand it any longer, I pushed his hands away, ignoring the pain and hurt that transformed his face from happy to sad.
"I am so sorry,ma douce." He put his hands back on my stomach. "But don't ask me to not touch you; touch our baby.Please."
Tears threatened to fill my eyes, but I didn't want to cry in front of him or for him. I'd cried enough.
"You can stay,butdon't think everything is okay.Ça va?"
He gave me a knowing nod. "Ça va, ma chérie. I just want to be here for you and the baby. I don't want to be anywhere else but here."
His sincerity was going to be my undoing—I just knew it.
I wasn’t much of a fighter by nature or personality. If I were, I’d have stood up to my father years ago. I preferred to keep things conflict-free and avoid drama. I’d done a poor job of that since Papa started hinting at me marrying his heir apparent. I’d made plenty of mistakes—the first being losing my virginity to Duncan without telling him who I really was, which had put his life in danger. Then I got pregnant. There was never a question of keeping the baby, with or without a father—but when I hadthe chance to make us a proper family, I took it. Maybe I should’ve checked with Duncan to make sure he understood I wanted a real marriage. Looking back on all the conversations I never had with him, I realized just how much I’d messed up too.
Thankfully, before the conversation could push me to the point of ugly crying, a nurse called my name.
The drill was the same as it had been for previous visits. Duncan was led to the ultrasound room while I changed, peed in a cup, and let them draw my blood.
Duncan was standing by the gurney when the nurse led me into the examination room.
At twenty weeks, I was getting bigger and ungainly. It wasn't going to be easy to get on that gurney with any grace.
"Let me,ma douce." Duncan kept his tone gentle. He picked me up and, just like I weighed nothing, deposited me on the gurney. I heard the nurse sigh.Well, hell, join the club, girlfriend, and you're not even hormonal and don't know how good this man is with his hands.
He helped me lie down and shift my ass, so I was situated properly for the doctor. He'd seen what we'd done last time, which I appreciated. I didn't mind at all that his hands were all over me. It felt nice to be touched by him; it felt nice that he was here and he cared enough to be here.
The doctor came in, and she grinned at us. "My favorite parents. How are you both doing, and how do you feel, Elsa?"
"My back hurts," I told her.
"What? Why didn't you say something?" Duncan exclaimed, turning to my doctor. "Her back hurts. Do something!"
"Well, that's what happens when you get pregnant; your body becomes a bit of a runaway train." Dr. Lévy didn't seem fazed at all by Duncan's tantrum.
"There must be something—" Duncan protested, but I cut him off by taking his hand in mine.
"It's fine."
