Page 152 of The Wrong Groom

“Are you okay?”

I nod, breathless. “It’s just the morning sickness. The doctor told me it’s normal.”

Gabriel sits back, then opens up the storage compartment between the car’s front seats. He rifles around for a few seconds before producing a plastic bag, which he holds out to me as an offering. “This should help.”

I take it, momentarily confused before I realize what it is. It’s a bag of ginger candies.

I glance over my shoulder at him. “Did you have these in here for me?”

“I’m told ginger settles the stomach,” he says. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—something careful and controlled, as if he’s trying not to overstep but still wants to take care of me in whatever small ways he can.

I unwrap one of the candies and pop it into my mouth. The sharp, tangy sweetness calms my queasiness almost instantly, and I breathe out slowly, relieved.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“It’s no problem. I’ve got more at home, and in the office.” He pauses, giving me a once over. “You ready to head in?”

“Yeah.”

Gabriel’s gaze lingers on me for a few seconds. Then he gives me a small nod. “Alright, let’s go.”

Gabriel stays near my side as we walk toward the entrance of the building. He doesn’t touch me, but I can feel his presence beside me, a steady, quiet support.

We approach the reception desk, and the nurse behind it looks up at the sound of our footsteps on the marble floor. “Hi. Are you in for an appointment?”

“Yes,” I say. “Alexis Beaumont.”

The nurse looks at her computer screen for a moment as she types in my name. “Perfect. You’re right on time. Please have a seat. The doctor will be with you in a moment.”

I turn away to take a seat in the waiting area, Gabriel following closely behind. He doesn’t sit down immediately, opting instead to stand beside me, like he’s keeping watch over me.

I glance at the clock on the wall, sweat gathering on my palms. I hate waiting rooms. I always have, but since I learned about my pregnancy, my anxiety about my health has gone through the roof. The recent hospital stay didn’t help with those fears. Even though I know it’s a normal part of life, it’s new to me, and I can’t help being frightened.

Gabriel’s presence is steady, keeping me from spiraling too far along this train of thought. I wonder if he’s aware of what he’s doing for me. If it’s intentional.

After a few minutes, a door opens on the other end of the waiting room, and a nurse steps out, glancing down at a clipboard before calling, “Alexis Beaumont?”

I rise to my feet shakily and start toward the door. I can feel Gabriel’s hand hovering near the small of my back, but he doesn’t touch me. I can’t admit it out loud, but I find myself wishing he would. Wishing he’d just break the invisible barrier he seems to have erected around my body and lay his palm against my spine.

The nurse gives me a reassuring smile, like she can sense my nerves. “Right this way, Ms. Beaumont.”

As I’m about to step through the door and follow her, Gabriel clears his throat from behind me. I glance at him over my shoulder.

“Do you want me to wait out here?” he asks quietly. “Or is it alright if I come with you?”

“You can come,” I tell him. “It’s okay.”

He breathes out, gratitude in his eyes, looking as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders as he falls in step by my side.

The nurse takes us to an examination room, where she checks my weight and blood pressure and asks a few preliminary questions before stepping out. “Dr. Howard will be in with you in just a moment,” she says, closing the door behind her.

A few minutes later, there’s a soft knock, and the door opens. Dr. Howard, an older man with a silver chinstrap beard, steps in and busies himself with a device that I think might be an ultrasound machine.

“So,” he says, his tone conversational, “your chart indicates that this is your first pregnancy, Ms. Beaumont. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I reply, my voice a bit shaky. I swallow. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

“That’s perfectly natural,” Dr. Howard says. “Pregnancy can be nerve-wracking. But I promise you’re in good hands.” He gestures toward the cushioned exam table. “Go ahead and have a seat.”