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“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Hospital,” he grunted.
Grunted.
I tried to squirm in his arms. They were like vices. “Karson, I do not need to go to the hospital,” I argued as we made it to the porch.
“You’re pregnant, and you just fuckin’ collapsed in front of me. We’re going to the hospital.”
I rolled my eyes. “They call me dramatic,” I muttered.
Karson stopped on the porch and glared down at me.
Glared.
“Dramatic?” he repeated in a dangerous tone. “You’re carrying our child, Wren. We do not get to be flippant about that.”
Our child. The two words were like music. Poetry.
My irritation disappeared. I reached up to touch his chin. “Honey, I’m not being flippant. I haven’t eaten all day. First, because I was late to a meeting, then because I had to drive all the way across the city to check on construction for one of our shelters. Then I did some counting in my head and realized I was late, after which I went to the nearest drugstore, bought up all of their tests, did about a million, freaked out, then came here.”
I took a long breath, inhaling the sweetness of his scent.
“Then I made a cheeseboard because I realized I hadn’t eaten all day, only when I’d finished making it did I remember pregnant women aren’t supposed to eat deli foods. What kind of bullshit is that, by the way? Cavewomen were eating woolly mammoths back in the day, I think I can have a double cream brie.” I waved my hand. “Anyway, I was too nervous to eat, and then I got nervous about telling you, and it all became too much. And remember, I am slightly dramatic. Though I will say I’ve never actually fainted before. That’s a new one, even for me.”
Karson stared at me, digesting everything I just said, likely weighing out whether it justified him not rushing me to the hospital.
After a few beats, we were walking back into the house. I sagged in relief.
Karson carried me all the way to the breakfast bar, setting me down gently. As gently as if I was a child.
“You got one of those million tests with you?” he asked quietly.
My stomach dropped. “You don’t believe me?”
He brushed hair from my face. “I believe you, sweetheart,” he replied, voice firm. “I just want to see.”
“They have my pee on them, you know,” I told him solemnly.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Biting my lip, I moved to my purse where I did indeed have a pee stick. My hand was shaking ever so slightly as I handed it to him.
His head was bowed down so I couldn’t gage his expression. Karson hadn’t exactly reacted to the news yet, he’d just gone into alpha male protective mode.
My heart started beating wildly again.
Until he looked up at me smiling.
No, fucking beaming.
Karson was holding the positive pregnancy test and beaming at me. Happiness was etched onto every inch of his face.
I blinked at him. “You’re not pissed off?”
Karson’s smile faltered slightly, his brows furrowing. “Why in the fuck would I be pissed off?”
I wanted to smile at my man’s ability to transition from smiling to menacing in a single second, but this moment was just too odd. “Because you are a tough guy, alpha male with a very scary job who has lived on his own terms for over a decade, and now the woman you’ve been sleeping with is telling you she’s carrying a baby that will turn your carefully crafted life upside down?” I surmised.
