When we embrace, entwined in warmth and breath, he draws me nearer, his chest rising and falling as he tenderly caresses my hair. His aftercare is always slow, patient, and grounding, like he’s resetting both of us with every touch.
“Stay home today,” he murmurs against my temple. “Rest. Eat. Pump. I want your body calm.”
“I was planning to,” I whisper. “I’m feeling a little… drained.”
His hand slides to my hip, protective. Suddenly his phone buzzes. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, still half-relaxed, until his brows slam together.
“What’s wrong?” I slowly sit up.
“A text from Bjorn.” His voice drops into command. “Warehouse alert. Motion sensors triggered at the Port of Houston location.”
My stomach tightens. “Is this SableCorp?”
“I’m going to find out.” He cups my cheek. “But you stay here. No bookstore today.”
“I was going to tell Leander,” I say. “I’ll text him now.”
He kisses me slowly, lingeringly, and almost too long for a man about to rush out the door. Then he leaves the bed, tugging on jeans and a polo shirt, his forehead still creased as he reads the text again.
I reach for my phone.
ME → LEANDER: Hey! I’m staying home today. Can you open and close? You can shut down at 1:30 pm. I’ll be near my phone if you need me.
Three dots appear almost instantly.
LEANDER: Yes, ma’am!! Already walking in. Go rest! Sven says hi.
I smile.
Erik finishes dressing and returns to the bed, leaning down to kiss me again, firmer this time. “I’ll be there in an hour,” he promises. “Two at most. If you need anything, our three guards are already clocked in for the day. They will drive you anywhere you need to go. You know the drill.” He eyes me with his stern look.
My chest tightens at the worry in his eyes. About a month ago he decided to hire three men that his brother Leif had recommended. They are friends of his close friend, who works for our local FBI office here in Houston. I think they are lovely, but it’s still uncomfortable to have them following me around whenever I go to the bookstore or whenever I need to pick something up at the grocery store.
“I’ll stay at home,” I whisper.
He nods, touches his forehead to mine, and then leaves. The loft feels too quiet without him.
I tie my hair up, tug on a soft, oversized t-shirt, and shuffle to the kitchen to make scrambled eggs and fruit. The smell of butter fills the air. My stomach rumbles. Sheesh, breastfeeding has me eating more and more these days.
Halfway through making breakfast, my phone rings.DR. MADSEN'S OFFICE
I hesitate; my pulse spikes. After what happened with Dr. Rhys a month ago, we’ve done only virtual visits with Dr. M, where she profusely apologizes and assures us that she would only call if it was a needed in-person visit.
But Dr. Madsen herself sounds warm and steady when I answer.
“Claire? I’m so sorry for the late notice.” Her voice is apologetic. “I reviewed your latest labs from when you got them done two weeks ago, and one of your electrolyte markers came back with conflicting results. It’s probably nothing, but since we’re adjusting your induction schedule, I’d feel better if I could retest in person.”
My grip tightens on the phone. “Is Dr. Rhys there?”
A pause. Then, gently, “No. He’s been reassigned to a different clinic. It’s just me and our other partner, Dr. Monroe. She primarily sees all of our mothers-to-be. I wanted to tend to you personally.”
Relief floods me, but anxiety lingers. Can we do a virtual meeting and test later?” I ask.
“I wish we could.” She sighs. “But this one needs an immediate draw so I can ensure we’re not dealing with anything too serious. It’ll take ten minutes. I’ll have one of my nurses assist you. I recall you mentioning in our last virtual visit that you have three guards with you; is that correct?”
“Yes.”
You can have all three wait in the lobby or send one with us. What is your preference?”
