Chapter 7 Jensen #2
I can’t. Not when it comes to her. One second of distraction is all it takes for everything to go to hell. Money brought us comfort, but not safety. She was always a target, but once the world finds out she’s carrying my child?
That target on her back grows.
I’ll move heaven and earth before I let anything touch her.
She squeals when I lift her. Her arms loop around my neck, warm and soft. “I can walk,” she protests, even though her exhaustion bleeds into her voice.
“I know.” I don’t let her down. I carry her into the apartment and gently lower her onto the couch. I brush her hair off her face. “Don’t move. I’ll make you food before the doctor gets here.”
“What if I’m not hungry?” she says, just a push to test me.
I kiss her. “Then I’ll bring you something every hour until you are.”
Mia’s mouth opens. Then closes again. “You’re… insane.”
I brush my lips over her temple. “Only for you.”
I call Dr. Patel’s office, and once I hang up, I make Mia toast. If I had my way, she’d eat a full meal, but I’d rather she keep it down.
I butter to the edge, a little jelly scraped over the top—just how she likes it. I grab a bottle of water, too.
She blinks slowly, her eyes heavy when I sit next to her. It’s like she’s dragging her body through wet cement.
“Here.” I hand her the plate and her nose wrinkles.
“I’m not sure I can eat it, Jensen. My stomach’s doing gymnastics.”
“I know, baby.” I tuck a blanket around her legs. “Just try a little.”
I watch as she lifts the toast and takes a tentative bite.
It’s torture how slowly she chews, like her body’s seconds from mutiny.
My jaw clenches. I hate that she feels sick.
That she can’t eat. She needs fuel to survive, to grow what I put inside her.
I didn’t think about this part when I was obsessed with getting her pregnant.
I press my hand to her belly, needing to touch her. To feel her.
Under my hand is the start of everything. Our blood. Our legacy. The tiny seed of our family growing inside the woman I fucking worship.
She manages less than half a piece before she hands me the plate. It’s not enough, but it’s something. I slide it onto the coffee table and then I pull her against me, adjusting the blanket around her so she’s covered.
Her head rests on my shoulder like she’s too exhausted to hold it up. “You alright, princess?”
“I’m tired,” she admits.
I kiss her temple. “Rest. I’ll wake you when the doctor arrives.”
Mia makes a sleepy sound. “Okay.” She yawns, nestling against me. “I’m tired, but I’m so happy I could explode with it.”
Fuck. She has no idea what she does to me when she’s soft and sweet like this. “Yeah?”
“You’re going to be such a good dad.”
My throat tightens. “You’re killing me, Mia.”
She hums. “Sorry.”
I sit with her while she sleeps. She’s resting. I’m not. My mind is in overdrive. I send a message to Theo, asking him to arrange more security for my wife and bring in an additional bodyguard for her. His team is solid, and I trust Theo to bring someone in who will be good at their job.
Then I message Diane. All of Mia’s meals need to be pregnancy safe and high in whatever nutrients she needs to grow a healthy baby.
I order a bunch of supplements, ginger chews, and a few loungewear sets that cost a kidney. They’re hypoallergenic and soft. She’ll love them.
I’ve just finished paying when the intercom notification pings on my phone. It’s Dr. Patel.
Gently, I slip out from under Mia and go to the door. When I open it, Dr. Patel gives me a warm smile. “Mr. Rivers. It’s good to see you again.”
“Come in.” I step back to let her inside.
Dr. Patel looks far more put together than I do right now. Her hair is clipped back from her face, her blouse perfectly tailored to her body and her heels click on the wood floor as she follows me into the living room. She’s known us for years.
I crouch in front of Mia, brushing my knuckles over her cheek. I hate to wake her, but this is important.
Her lashes flutter, and then her eyes open. “Hey.” Her smile’s a little dopey.
“You alright?”
Mia rubs her neck. “Yeah. Just stiff.” She notices Dr. Patel. “Hi. Sorry. I’m awake.”
Dr. Patel waves her off as she drops her bag on the coffee table. “You’re fine. You’re pregnant?”
“I think so.” Mia winces. “I mean… I took a test, and it was positive.”
“She had some bleeding,” I say immediately. Mia freezes, like she didn’t consider that might have been a bad thing—not just implantation.
Dr. Patel lets nothing show on her face. “Today?”
“No.” Mia sits straighter and I adjust the blanket again. I’m fussing but I can’t stop. “Um, a few weeks ago. I thought it was my period, but obviously not.”
The doctor nods even as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a blood pressure machine. “Can I have your arm?” Mia rolls her sleeve up and offers it to her. “Was it a lot of blood?”
“Not really.”
“And you took the test when?”
“Today.” The machine buzzes to life, the cuff inflating around Mia’s bicep.
I watch Dr. Patel’s face, tracking any movement that might suggest a problem.
“Bleeding isn’t always cause for concern in the first trimester,” she says finally, and the barbs around my ribs loosen. “Especially if it was only a small amount. It could have been implantation bleeding. When was your last full period?”
Mia thinks for a second. “Around six weeks ago.”
“The sixth of last month,” I add. “It lasted four days. Her bleeding at the start of this month was light, and only for a day and a half.”
Dr. Patel blinks. Mia rolls her eyes. “You’re obsessed with my uterus.”
“I’m obsessed with you,” I correct, hovering like I’m already half-mad with worry. If anything is wrong with her or the baby, I’ll lose my mind.
The machine beeps and the doctor peers down at the display.
“Blood pressure looks fine.” She unfastens the cuff and tucks the device back into her bag.
“I’d like to take some bloods—check your hCG levels now and in a few days, just to make sure things are progressing normally.
I’d also recommend a full blood panel and,” she pulls out a sample bottle, “I need some urine, please.”
Mia nods, pushing up to her feet. I’m at her side instantly, steadying her when she wobbles.
“You okay?”
Her eyes close for a moment, her mouth tight. “Yeah, just got lightheaded.”
“She’s dizzy,” I tell Dr. Patel, as if she’s not seeing this for herself.
I expect concern. Urgency. A plan. But the doctor just smiles at me. “It’ll pass. Make sure you’re eating enough, staying hydrated. Rest when you can.”
“That’s it?”
Dr. Patel gives me a patient smile. She’s used to dealing with me when it comes to my wife. “I’m afraid so.”
“There has to be something you can do,” I press, irritated now. “She’s sick.”
Mia squeezes my arm. “Jensen.”
I don’t care about being polite. I care about my wife standing next to me wobbly and dizzy. Dr. Patel smiles and it pisses me off. “Pregnancy isn’t easy on the body, Mr. Rivers, but everything Mia has described to me is normal at this stage of her pregnancy.”
Mia shoots me a look that screams calm down. I ignore it and walk with her to the bathroom.
“I can pee on my own,” she grumbles as I open the door and step in with her.
“I know.” I don’t leave. I lean against the sink while she huffs and does her business.
Her shoulders are tight, her movements slow enough to cause my chest to lock. I stay close while she washes her hands, in case she so much as sways, and then I take her back to the couch.
Mia hands over the sample to Dr. Patel, who’s already set up a small cardboard tray on the coffee table.
I don’t care what the doctor’s doing. I’m focused on my wife. I help Mia sit and cover her again with the blanket, tucking it tight around her legs. Like keeping her warm is the only thing that matters.
She squeezes my hand when I stop fussing. “I’m okay,” she says gently.
I kiss her temple, needing the contact. “I know.” And she’ll stay that way because I’ll damn well make sure of it.
“Well, you’re definitely pregnant, Mia,” Dr. Patel says, holding up the test strip. The two lines are visible from here.
Hearing it confirmed by the doctor hits like a pure shot of fucking dopamine right into my veins. I could fall to my knees and kiss every inch of Mia’s belly.
“Let’s get the bloods done,” Dr. Patel continues, “then I’ll get out of your hair.”
She heads to the kitchen to wash her hands.
I frown after her, but before I can say anything Mia nudges me, a warning. “She’s not the enemy, Jensen. Be nice.”
There is no nice when it comes to protecting my wife and our baby.
The doctor returns and I watch as she ties the tourniquet around Mia’s arm and presses her skin to find a vein. “Sharp scratch,” she warns.
Mia flinches as the needle slides into her vein. I grit my teeth. I hate seeing her hurt—even for a second. I’ll take a thousand needles if it means she doesn’t have to. I shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t snap it in two.
When it’s done, the doctor packs up her bag. “I’ll call with the results and I’ll book you in for a repeat hCG.” She grabs her things and smiles. “Congratulations to you both.”
I walk the doctor to the door, confused that there’s nothing else to do, but I thank her for coming.
Before she leaves, Dr. Patel gives me a look. “I know you’re worried, Jensen, but let the woman breathe. It’s a pregnancy, not a medical emergency.”
Everything to do with my wife is an emergency. Mia’s not going to so much as exhale without me knowing about it. This baby rewrote the rules. She was always mine. I put my ring on her finger. Gave her my name. Fucked her like I was trying to meld with her.
But now… Now, she’s carrying a piece of me.
And that changes everything.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, even though I want her to stay until Mia hits the third trimester.
She shakes her head, smiling like she sees right through me. “Mia will be fine. She has you. But if anything changes, call my office.”
I nod. Damn right she’ll be fine. Because Mia’s not doing a second of this pregnancy alone. She’s mine. Mine to love. Mine to protect.
And that growing belly?
That’s everything.
I’ll spend the next seven months worshipping my wife the only way I know how—on my knees, inside her, watching her swell with what I put there and making sure no one touches what’s mine.