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“Are you sure?”
He sighed. “No, I’m not sure. But…I have to believe that. You were right before, when you said that staying somewhere without prenatal care was a stupid idea. Dr. Hawthorne will help us out.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
The interior of the clinic was surprisingly warm and welcoming, not at all what I expected from an off-the-books mafia doctor. I felt Tristan’s grip on my arm tighten slightly as we were led into a small examination room by a nurse who seemed too young to even be out of high school. Her cheerful demeanor and the bubblegum pink of her scrubs made my stomach churn.
“We need you to change into this,” she said, handing me a thin hospital gown. “Dr. Hawthorne will be right in. She drove here for this, so you must be very special.”
Tristan flashed the nurse a half smile. “Family friends,” he said.
She bobbed her head, her raven curls bouncing with every movement. “Got it,” she chirped, before leaving us alone in the room.
As the door closed behind her, I felt Tristan turn towards me. I could feel his gaze on me, a tangible weight full of unspoken worry and anticipation. We were silent for a moment–a moment that stretched into an eternity as the reality of our situation sunk in.
Suddenly, I felt his hand on my shoulder. His fingers gently brushed over my skin, causing goosebumps to erupt along my arm.
“Let me help you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded in silence, allowing him to assist me in removing my coat and sweater. Though they weren't really my coat and sweater, they were just random clothes Tristan had bought me after we'd decided—he'd decided—we were going to Delaware. I shivered as the cold air hit my skin, but his hands were there, warm and comforting against the chill.
“Do you have to get fully undressed?” his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“The gown doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” I replied, trying to inject some humor into the tense situation.
“So do you want me to help with your pants too?” he asked.
“I…um, yeah,” I said, my cheeks burning. “Sure.”
We stood together in the cold sterile room, our breaths intermingling as Tristan’s hands carefully unbuttoned my jeans. His fingers moved with an intimacy I wasn’t quite used to, causing a flicker of want to shoot through me despite our current situation. I felt him tug at the waistband of my pants, his hands steady and warm against my skin.
“Tell me if I’m going too fast for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
I shook my head, feeling a rush of appreciation for the care he was taking with me. “You’re fine,” I said, reaching out to grip his arm for support as I stepped out of my jeans. “And I think we’re way past ‘too fast’, given that I’m already pregnant.”
He chuckled as I finished discarding my clothes, and then folded them neatly to put them on a chair. When he turned around, I wore only my bra and panties in front of him, and he took a sharp intake of breath as he stared at my reflection in the mirror.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said. “Can I…?”
He reached a tentative hand out and I nodded, taking it to splay it out across my stomach. Tristan’s touch was gentle, his palm rough with callouses. It made me feel things I didn’t necessarily want to feel, even if those feelings were good. Even if they were all I could think about.
Even if he was all I could think about.
“Do you think I’m starting to show?” I asked.
“No,” he answered, his gaze never wavering from my reflection. “But you’re glowing.”
I managed a weak laugh, brushing off his compliment with a shrug. “Must be all the stress,” I joked, forcing a smile onto my lips. But his hand stayed on my stomach, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over the thin material of my underwear.
“Maybe…” He paused, glancing at me in our reflection before moving his hand away. His fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.
He helped me into the gown, adjusting it until it fit properly. His movements were slow and gentle as if he was afraid I’d shatter under his touch. I found his concern endearing but also slightly unnerving.
“I’m not breakable, you know,” I murmured.
“You say that because you don’t know me.”
“Meaning…?”
