Chapter 7
Savannah
I chew the tip of my pencil, my eyes homed in. Three down, five letters: “Something that slips away.” Time? Maybe. Or sleep? I stare at the empty boxes as if they might fill themselves, going almost cross-eyed since I barely slept last night, my growing middle making getting comfortable harder.
I sip my coffee and stall. Oh my God, my taste is coming back.
It took a week since seeing the doctor and being on the new vitamins, but I breathe out a sigh of relief, grateful that I can now taste something other than metallic bitterness.
My eyes prick with tears. It’s nothing to cry over, but the waterworks are almost an hourly occurrence this week.
As I wipe my eyes, Griffin walks into the kitchen with what looks like a piece of stainless steel.
“What’s wrong?” He nearly balks. He’s been here since this morning. His scowl is deeper today than I’ve ever seen it, and he’s barely said two words to me.
“Oh, it’s nothing… it’s just… a crossword.” I lift the local paper as a poor excuse to cover my tears. He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me, then puts his tools down and walks over, peering over my shoulder.
“Youth.”
I frown, look back at the puzzle. Sure enough, youth fits.
“You do crosswords?” I’m surprised. He doesn’t seem like the crossword type. I used to do them sometimes with my grandpa, an activity I still try to do regularly, particularly when I want to feel closer to him.
“They help quiet my brain.” He steps back to his tools and resumes his tasks. I watch him, trying to work him out. He is a puzzle, this man, one I think no one else has managed to solve.
“Oh, before I forget, I got you a key cut.” I pass the new key over to him. “I know you start early, and while I’m usually up, I thought a key would help you access the bakery at any time. I don’t want to hold you up on your other jobs…”
I think this is what people usually do. And I trust him. Tanner Whiteman wouldn’t just get anyone to help me. This I’ve come to learn.
“I’ll keep it safe.” He pockets the key as I slide off the stool, wanting to eat something to test my taste buds. “I think I got my taste back.” I smile, and it’s then I see it. His eyes drop down to my belly. He knows. “I can finally try one.”
Stepping over to the cinnamon buns I baked this morning, I grab one, excited as they're still warm, and take a bite. I start to chew, then pause. The taste, the texture, it’s all wrong. I look at Griffin, my mouth full, my eyes wide before I grab a napkin and spit it out.
“You’ve been eating this?” I’m horrified. It tastes like cardboard. Dry, not sweet at all.
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Oh my God, why? They're disgusting!” I throw out the one in my hand and then proceed to throw the entire tray in the trash.
“They’re fine.”
I look at him quickly, confused.
“They are far from fine. No, no, noooo, my grandma would be rolling in her grave.” I slap my hand on my forehead, and I see his lips curve a little, his eyes not leaving me.
“With laughter?” He rolls his lips a little, and I can’t help but grin.
“Yes, she would. Probably sitting up there, having a glass of sherry, taking great delight in my bakery mishaps… I’m so sorry you had to endure that. I swear, I’m not trying to kill you with my food.” I cringe, because I gave a whole batch to Tanner a few days ago too.
“I’m sure if you were, I’d be dead already. You seem like the kind of woman who knows what she wants and is doing her best to get it.”
I pause at his assessment. I’ve never thought of myself like that. But that’s exactly what I’m doing. At first, it felt foreign, but now, it feels like it was always inside of me, just waiting to get out.
“Well, after these disasters, my career in this town will be over before it begins.” I squeeze my eyes together, feeling a little helpless. Stupid. I always try to taste my products before I give them to anyone, and the one time I can’t, they taste like feet.
He clears his throat, gaze softening. “It’s not that bad…”
“But no one will buy from me again. No one will— Oh!” My hand moves swiftly to my stomach, the pain intense.
“Shit.” Griffin drops everything in his hands and rushes over.
“Ow…” I wince as I hold my belly, the tightening pain entirely new.
“What is it? What's wrong?” I hear his panic, but I also feel his hand. Warm, large, solid, and comforting on my back.
Fear takes over, making my voice shaky. “I don’t know…”
“Let’s get you to the doctor.”
“It’s okay, I’ll be— Ooow…” I wince again as my knees buckle.
“No, I’m taking you.” Without asking, Griffin picks me up, the movement so quick, I barely have time to register what’s happening as my feet leave the floor and he walks us out of the bakery.
“Griffin?” I grab on to him as he marches out into the street, straight to his truck.
“I’ve got you. It will be okay.” His face is still hard set, but his voice soothes me.
He places me into his truck with precise yet gentle movements, which contrast completely with the man I see working in my bakery.
“Here. Let’s get you settled.”
I swallow as he reaches over, putting my seat belt on, and even though I’m panicked and holding my belly, I’m completely aware of his closeness.
I’m trying to breathe through the anxiety taking over as he closes the door and runs around to the driver's side and speeds us away from the bakery.
“It’s too early… I have another few weeks. Something’s wrong…” I say quietly, and his frown deepens.
“You’ll be okay,” he grits out.
“Maybe I did something I shouldn’t have. Maybe I didn’t—”
He cuts me off. “It’s not your fault. Let’s get Hudson to see you before you get yourself too worked up.”
Nodding, I swallow hard as he looks at me, his eyes running down and back up, like he’s assessing me, and within five minutes, he’s screeching into the hospital parking lot.
“I’m scared, Griffin. Ow…” I grab my belly tighter, like my hold will ease the pain, but it doesn’t. Griffin’s out of the truck and at my door before I’ve even had a chance to take off my seat belt.
“Come on.” He pulls me from the seat, again carrying me into the hospital like I don't weigh the same as a whale.
“Hudson!” Griffin barks at the doctor so loudly I jump in his arms.
Dr. Hamilton looks up at us from where he’s standing at the reception desk and immediately springs straight into action.
“Down here.” The two men stride down a small hallway as I feel another pulse of pain rippling across my abdomen.
“Ahhhh…” I try to be quiet, gritting my teeth to contain the pain, but I can’t help the whimper that escapes. I curl into Griffin a little more, gripping on to his shirt, wanting to hide in his chest.
His hold on me tightens. “It’s okay, sweetness…” I barely hear his words, yet I feel them against my hair. I think he must have misspoke.
“What’s happening?” Griffin places me on the bed and steps to the side as Hudson starts his assessment.
“Sharp pain… across here.” I show the doctor.
“Griffin, give us a moment,” Hudson tells him, and I look up, seeing Griffin watching me before his jaw tics and he nods, stepping out of the room as the doctor gets to work.
“Braxton Hicks. It’s pretty common. About fifty percent of pregnant women feel them at some point. They’re not dangerous as such, but they’re a good indication that you need to start resting a little more. Keep your water intake up. Hydration plays a role.”
I breathe out in relief. “Will they continue?”
The doctor writes a few things down in my file.
“They’re a little unpredictable. They could remain until you go into labor, or you might not experience any more.
Again, I think you need more rest. You only have a few weeks to go, but the baby can decide to turn up at any time now, although I would prefer they stay inside a little longer.
If they reoccur, or if you experience anything similar, come straight back here, and we can check you out.
But as I said last time, I hope you’re ready for one energetic baby.
” His wide smile puts me more at ease as I stand and walk toward the door.
I’ve been here for a few hours, and in that time, they’ve run tests and had a heart monitor on both me and the baby. The care and attention here is second to none.
“So is that what labor is going to feel like?” I gulp, waiting for his answer, because I’m not in a hurry to feel that pain again.
“I’m afraid it will be similar. But we have a variety of options to help you through it all. Different pain relief options, or even an epidural, if that’s the path you want to go down.”
I swallow, unsure. The pain, although I got through it, was intense. I hope this baby comes out quickly.
“I suggest you go home and put your feet up for the afternoon,” he tells me as we walk down the hall.
“Oh, I’ve got a few more things—” I start to tell him but get cut off by a gruff voice I wasn’t expecting.
“She’ll rest.”
My head whips around, and I see Griffin, standing there at the end of the hall like a big ogre ready to pounce.
“You’re still here?” I look at him in shock as my eyes get glassy. No one has ever shown this kind of support to me, not ever. Not while pregnant, and apart from my grandparents, not throughout my life.
“I am. I’ll take you home.”
I stare up at him for what I’m sure is too long. Am I dreaming? I blink a few times, but he remains in my vision. I thought I might have had to call the local taxi to get home or something. I assumed he left hours ago.
“Make sure she rests for the remainder of the day. And don’t forget Harvey’s party tomorrow. Actually, why don’t you bring Savannah,” Hudson says.
I look at my doctor, confused.
“My son’s birthday tomorrow. A big party. Lots of kids. Good way to get you prepared for your new role as a parent and to meet some more of the locals.” Hudson grins, and I look back at Griffin, my brain not connecting.
“Oh, I’m…” I start to say I’m busy, because I still have cleaning to do, and now that I have my taste back, I should be baking all night.