Three Days Later #2
“Thank you,” I derided sharply. “My brain isn’t addled just because I’m pregnant.”
“Never said it was,” he dismissed. “You’re just being touchy because you’re nervous about the doctor.”
“I am. But I’m not being touchy. They’re up to something.” I cast him a glance, all thoughts of the doctor and the file on my lap forgotten. “Are you in on it? If you tell me now, I won’t get mad.”
“I told you that I’m not. What’s the worst they can do? Help tomorrow at the wake? Parker was offering to coordinate things for us.” He let loose a soft laugh. “I think she was disappointed to learn that it wasn’t a royal funeral.”
Amused, I said, “I told her the same thing.”
“If she’s agoraphobic, will she attend?”
“I doubt it. She also didn’t bring anything with her. She’s spending at least one night but didn’t bring her stuff?” I tutted. “She must think I’m an idiot.”
He cleared his throat. “I know that Giulia knows Parker.”
My brow furrowed. “What? How?”
“From something she said when you left the room.”
“What did she say?”
“That we wouldn’t be serving afternoon tea at the wake. All three of them laughed like it was an inside joke.”
I drummed my nails against the file on my lap. “Afternoon tea. You’re sure that’s what she said?”
“Yes, Rachel,” he mocked. “I’m sure that’s what she said.”
“They’re planning my baby shower.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can. Trust me.”
Parker knew I hated stuff like that; dammit to hell.
“Guess she doesn’t know you don’t like group settings,” Rex said carefully, shooting me a glance as he stopped at a red light.
Grimly, I said, “She knows.”
“You dealt with the ‘welcome home’ party well.”
I didn’t exactly have a choice—not that I said that.
Knowing my place, my role, was one thing. Enjoyment was another.
One reason Parker and I got along so well was that we both had reclusive tendencies that meshed superbly together.
She had to know I’d loathe having a baby shower.
Still, it was odd timing. If she was here now, that implied they intended on having the baby shower soon, but near to Bear’s funeral? That seemed unlikely.
I knew most people had a baby shower around six weeks before the due date, but the Posse did nothing the normal way. That was why Giulia was due in April but had hers after Thanksgiving.
I didn’t imagine that the baby shower had consisted of diaper cakes or the regular type of gifts that you gave an expectant mom either.
“Why wouldn’t she have brought anything with her if she planned to stay a few days?” I asked him, but mostly I was thinking out loud. “It’s not like they’re going to host a baby shower close to the funeral, is it? Something else is happening.”
Rex just laughed. “You going into detective mode?”
“Damn straight.”
Lips curving into an even deeper grin, he shook his head and settled back in his seat. He fiddled with the buttons on the wheel, and one of my playlists sounded through the speakers.
Sensing that he was going to leave me to my thoughts, I gave him the same courtesy. That was something I’d always loved about being with Rex—talking wasn’t imperative.
He was pensive by nature, calculating too, but he was the kind of guy who strategized. He weighed the pros and cons of every action, and that required concentration and peace.
Leaving him to his thoughts, and me diving into mine, the ride to Manhattan barely took any time at all.
Only when we parked did my nerves revisit me, but when he bridged our hands together, I’d admit the feel of our fingers tangling, his arm rubbing up against mine, how he opened the door for me, how he said my name at the reception area for me, how he directed things—I needed that.
Control wasn’t something I enjoyed being wrestled from me, but here, where my nerves were in full force, where sitting still as I waited for my name to be called was impossible, where I tried to gnaw off a part of my gel nails, where the scent of the doctor’s office made my sensitive stomach lurch, I appreciated the calmness he exuded at my side.
The nail I tried to bite, he stopped me by tucking my hand into his. The knee that jiggled, he pushed his thigh against.
His arm slid around my shoulders, his scent filled my nostrils, and in my ear, he murmured, “I know you’re nervous, but I’m excited. We made this kid together, Rach. Even though we didn’t have a goddamn clue what we were doing, we made this beautiful perfect creation. Together.
“I can’t do the blood work and I know I can’t give birth, but I can be here. Whatever you need from me, you got it, baby girl.”
I bit my lip at his words which soothed something raw inside me. “Can I be your baby girl if I’m having another baby girl of yours?”
His grin was cocky as he butted his lips against my temple. “You’ll always be my girl, Rach. Ain’t you figured that out yet?”
A soft breath escaped me at his words.
They settled in me.
Lodging deep inside.
I still whimpered when the doctor took my blood, and I cringed when she prodded me and poked me and told me that I needed to gain more weight, but Rex was there through it at all, and he made it bearable.
He listened and he asked the questions I was too nervous to ask, and he let me squeeze his hand hard enough that I felt sure I’d broken a finger by the end of the appointment.
It was one thing to be told you were loved by someone, but it was another thing entirely to be shown you were loved.
Despite his grief, despite his stress, despite the upcoming service, he didn’t just show me I was and always would be his girl—he proved it.