Page 98 of Three Months Yesterday

“Did you get any sleep?” he asks quietly.

“Some.”

It’s not really a lie. I drifted in and out, caught in that half-aware state where every thought feels louder, every fear more real.

Beckett doesn’t push, doesn’t offer empty reassurances or tell me everything will be fine. He holds me, his breath warm against the back of my neck and his hand steady on my belly.

We don’t move, staying exactly as we are for who knows how long. The clock on the nightstand ticks and the shadows on the wall grow shorter.

“We should get up,” Beckett says eventually, his voice soft. “You need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know.” He presses another kiss to my shoulder. “But you still need to take care of yourself. If not for you or for me”—his hand strokes gently over the baby—“for the little nugget.”

As if on cue, I feel a sharp kick against my ribs, strong and insistent. His way of saying he’s still here—still counting on me.

I place my hand over Beckett’s, feeling the warmth of his palm through my shirt.

“Okay,” I whisper.

We get up slowly, moving through the motions the way one does while moving through a fog. Beckett starts the coffee while I sit at the island, my eyes following him as he moves around with the confidence of someone who knows exactly where everything is.

The second the phone rings Beckett is by my side, his hand finding mine as I answer on speaker.

“Hello?” My voice cracks.

“Madison? It’s Doctor Wallace.”

My pulse races at the fact it’s her calling me and not a nurse from her office. It has to be bad if she’s the one breaking the news.

Beckett squeezes my hand, reminding me I need to respond. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“I have good news. Your twenty-four-hour test came back normal. No protein in your urine, which means no preeclampsia at this point.”

The breath I was holding rushes out, and Beckett’s grip tightens as I feel him exhale beside me.

“I’m still concerned about your blood pressure,” Dr. Wallace continues. “We’ll need to monitor that closely going forward, but for now, everything looks good. Just take it easy, rest when you can, and I’ll see you at your next appointment.”

“Thank you,” I say as the tears I’ve been holding back slip down my cheeks.

“Try to enjoy the rest of your day, Madison.”

I barely drop the phone to the counter before Beckett is pulling me up into his arms. I go willingly, melting against him.

“Told you,” he murmurs against my hair.

“You did.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes bright with relief and something that makes my heart stutter. Then he kisses me, deep and slow and full of everything we haven’t said out loud yet.

His smile when we break apart is so bright, I fall in love with him a little more—if that’s even possible.

“How about that breakfast?” he asks.

I laugh, the sound watery but real. “Yeah. Breakfast sounds good.”

Beckett presses another kiss to my lips before he moves to the fridge, pulling out the ingredients to make some eggs and toast while I sit at the counter to watch him. The baby kicks again, and I press my hand to my belly, feeling the flutter of movement.