Chapter 17 Mia
SEVENTEEN
MIA
The gallery is quiet, which is lucky because if I have to bend down one more time, my spine might divorce itself from the rest of my skeleton.
This week every part of my body hurts. There’s a deep dragging ache that started two days ago in my pelvis and hasn’t let up, no matter how many warm baths I have.
This pregnancy is slowly becoming one long battle between me and my body, and spoiler: I’m not winning.
I rub slow circles over my hip while I read through a proposal, swaying slightly to take the pressure off my lower back. It’s not working, but I can’t stop moving. Standing still is too painful.
“Jacob Landry called. He’s looking for another painting of yours.” Juno leans against the desk, clutching a mug of coffee in her hands.
“I’m surprised he can move with all the artwork he’s bought in the last year.” All of it mine, and yeah, I do find it weird how obsessed this man is with my pieces, but one sale pays most of my overheads for the year—including Juno’s wages.
“He’s probably got a Mia shrine,” Juno jokes.
I glare at her. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“He’s harmless. Just enthusiastic.” She tilts her head at me as I arch my spine. “Is your back still hurting?”
It’s the third time she’s asked it in the last two hours. “If by hurting you mean I feel like I’ve been kicked in the spine until I can’t sit without wanting to cry, then yes.”
Juno snorts loud enough to startle a customer looking at a display a few feet from us. “Specific. Also, horrible.” She leans against the desk. “You need anything?”
I close the file and sigh. “No, I’m okay. I’m just grumpy.”
I’m more than grumpy. I’m seventeen weeks, but I feel like I’m in my third trimester.
And not because of my bump. That’s still small and tucked neatly beneath my sweater.
It’s everything else.
I knew pregnancy would be tough, but I didn’t expect to feel so drained and wrung out this early. I just got over weeks of morning sickness and was getting my glow.
Then this endless aching began.
I’d rather go to back to puking.
I lean my arms on the desk and bend over, pushing my ass out to stretch my back. Is it glamorous? No. But it helps, and that’s all I care about.
Theo lifts his head like a meerkat, narrows his eyes, then shakes his head and looks back at the screen. He’s used to me being dramatic since I got pregnant.
“I don’t suppose you know a good chiropractor?” I groan.
Juno’s nose wrinkles. “Sorry. I’ve only ever had my back cracked like a glow stick once and that wasn’t by a doctor.” She gets a dreamy look in her eyes. “Man, I miss Tyler. The things that men could do with his tongue—”
“Juno!”
She blinks. “What? Girl, don’t stand there clutching your pearls at me. I know Jensen rearranges your insides with just a look.”
Fair, but I still I blush. “Can we not talk about my husband and my insides?”
The gallery door clicks, but I don’t look until Juno says, “Well, we can’t now he’s here.”
I feel the change in the air before she finishes talking. I lift my head as Jensen strolls toward me. Prowls, really. His eyes track me like I’m his target and he’s zeroing in on his mark.
My lips part just a fraction to let out the breath lodged in my throat. He’s wearing his suit, the jacket missing. His shirt sleeves are rolled up his thick muscular forearms, and his tie is loosened in a way that looks too sexy to be legal.
How does he look so good when I feel like roadkill?
My smile is soft as I straighten, eyes locked on him until he’s in front of me.
Even though we’ve only been apart for six hours my knees are weak, and my arms wrap around him as his fingers span over my waist, pulling me closer.
Oh, damn. I melt into him without even thinking. I forget that my back hurts. Instead, I focus on the feel of him, his warmth, the steady certainty of his touch. My skin buzzes, and heat coils low in my belly, as it always does when he’s close.
When he pulls back, I almost drag him back in again.
The only thing that stops me is that we’re not alone. And I don’t want to traumatize Juno and Theo—and the poor unsuspecting visitors wandering around the gallery.
As always, he has that hint of hunger burning beneath his devotion. I’m pretty sure if we were alone I’d be bent over the desk, my leggings down around my ankles and my husband buried inside me.
I can’t say I’d be mad about it either.
His hand moves to my bump, like it always does these days. It’s like he can’t stop touching me, can’t stop reaching for our baby.
“I’m happy to see you, but why are you here? I’ve still got two hours left.”
He rubs circles over my back, like he can feel the ache that has plagued me all day. “You look tired.”
I raise a brow. “I am tired. I’m four-months-pregnant-tired.” I place my hand over his, stopping his motion. “But I have stuff to finish.”
“You’ve been on your feet too long today. That’s why you’re hurting.” I step back just a fraction so I can look at him properly. He doesn’t blink or look away, which means he’s feeling guilty and trying not to show it.
“How do you know I’ve been on my feet too much?” He opens his mouth and closes it. I narrow my eyes. “Have you been watching me on the cameras?”
He rubs his jaw, wincing just a fraction. “Is there any answer here that’s not going to result in me sleeping on the couch?”
I sigh. “So that’s what you spend your day doing? Stalking me on the security feed?”
He grips my hips, holding me in place as if he’s scared I might pull away. “I’m your husband. I can’t stalk you.”
“So that’s what you do when you’re at work? Just watch me… also at work.”
His thumbs rub circles on my hips. “I worry about you.”
I don’t care that he’s watching me, not really. That’s not new in our relationship. What I care about is the fact he came here and what his expectation is now that he’s standing in front of me.
I fold my arms over my chest. Not as easy as it once was between the growing belly and boobs. “So you’ve come to drag me out of here?”
He freezes. “No. Fuck no. That was the old Jensen, remember? I’ve grown.” He gives me a cocky lift of his lips that makes me swoon a little. I’m only human after all, and my husband is very easy on the eyes. “I’m not here to demand you go home. I trust you know your own limits.”
Okay, that is growth. “So you just dropped in to… What?”
“I came to see if there’s anything I could help with, so you can sit down and take some pressure off your back.” His fingers flex against me. “Use me. Put me to work. I am pretty good at lifting shit.”
And just like that, I melt a little more. I know he’s here for his own sanity, but yeah, it’s sweet that he came to help.
If he saw me on the video feed bent over like a dying whale, I’m not surprised he dropped everything. I probably looked pitiful.
My silence, even though it’s only for a moment, has him stepping into my space, until there isn’t even air between us.
“I’m not trying to control you, Mia. I just saw you were struggling, and I can’t stay sitting at my desk while you’re in pain, sweetheart.”
I’m a sap, because I fall into that headfirst.
“I’m not mad.” He looks relieved. “And you can stay to help me, but I’m making it clear now—I’m not going home. I have so much to do.” I grip his shirt, pulling him in to me. “It’s very hot that you came here to help your poor aching pregnant wife.”
I don’t miss the flicker of relief in his expression. “Taking care of you while you’re carrying my child is the bare minimum you should expect.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder where my sweater has slid a little. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, sweetheart.”
I sigh, leaning into his kiss. “I’m just whining. Ignore me.”
“You’re not whining. You’re growing a whole human while managing a business. You’re doing amazing. You amaze me.”
My throat gets tight in that way it does when he’s poured too much into me and I don’t know what to do with. “I mostly sit here and order around Juno and Theo while eating snacks. I’m not sure that’s amazing. I’m a pregnant trash panda.”
He snorts. “The most beautiful trash panda I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re biased.”
“Still right, though.”
I huff a breath. “Biased,” I repeat. “If you’re serious about helping, I have two displays to get up before the end of the day.”
“Just tell me what you need.” He turns me to face him, his hands drifting again to my bump. “And when we’re done here, why don’t I take you home, run you a bath and afterwards we can curl up on the couch with takeout from that Thai place you like? What do you think?”
He asks. He doesn’t tell me or try to force me like he would have done in the past.My eyes light up. “Only if you throw in a foot rub as well. My arches are on fire.”
He kisses my forehead like I’m precious, like I’m something to cherish and adore. “Deal.”