Chapter 30 Deena
THIRTY
DEENA
Cal came with me to my first scan. He held my hand as we watched the grainy, black and white image shift and change on the sonographer’s screen. When the fast whomp-whomp-whomp of the baby’s heartbeat played in the room, we turned to each other. My eyes filled with tears, and Cal squeezed my hand.
I blinked rapidly, still in shock. “So that means…”
“You’ve been pregnant since the anniversary party,” Cal finished. His fingers were still braided in mine, and he lifted my hand to kiss my knuckles. “All this time, Deena, you’ve been carrying our baby.”
Our baby.
My heart felt like bursting. All my life, I’d never imagined having a baby.
But that wasn’t quite true, was it? I’d never allowed myself to imagine it.
In my mind, having a child meant being married, and being married meant being trapped.
I’d grown up with the expectation that I’d find a man as soon as possible, settle down, and have babies.
All my hopes and dreams would be shoved aside.
But now…
Now a different future was possible. I could be with a man I loved—genuinely loved. He would be supportive, and I could keep running my business. I could have it all.
Suddenly, all the emotions I’d pushed away came roaring back.
I did want to be a mother—always had. But I’d simply cut that desire off, because I’d connected it with the loss of independence.
It would be a loss of independence, of course, but not in the way I’d imagined.
With Cal by my side, I could still be me.
He knew how important my business was; that was why he’d agreed to hire me on a non-exclusive basis.
That was why he’d sent clients my way. Why he supported me and hired me and admired me.
He was my boss, but he also championed my dreams and my freedom.
Having a child with him would be a true blessing.
The rest of the appointment was a haze. Cal drove me home—because his penthouse was quickly feeling like home—and tucked me into bed so I could rest. Exhaustion still clung to me, so I accepted the soft kiss he pressed to my lips and curled into a ball under the blankets to sleep.
When I woke up an hour later, I found Cal sitting on the armchair near the window in his bedroom, a stack of books resting in front of him. In his hands, another book lay open. He frowned at something on the page and slowly turned to the next one.
“What are you reading?”
Cal looked up at me and smiled, then showed me the front of the book.
I read the title: What to Expect When You’re Expecting.
A smile broke out on my lips, and I shuffled to the edge of the bed to look at the other books’ spines.
Expecting Better, The Expectant Father, Moms on Call, Cribsheet, Real Food for Pregnancy, and half a dozen other titles stared back at me.
“I bought the top twenty best-selling books on pregnancy, childbirth, and parenting,” Cal said, eyes back on the page. “At fourteen weeks, the fetus is typically three and a half to four inches long.” He looked up at me and smiled. “The size of a peach.”
I put my hand on my lower stomach, huffing.
“Wow.” Settling into the chair across from Cal, I leaned my head on my hand and listened as he read me interesting excerpts from his book.
I picked up the top book on his towering stack and flipped through it, simultaneously overwhelmed and utterly cherished.
This was so much more than I’d expected to happen. I’d never felt so loved and supported in my life. The pregnancy was a shock, but Cal’s reaction made me feel like anything was possible.
“I’ve scheduled an appointment with a pelvic floor physiotherapist,” he said as he flipped a page. “She’ll be here tomorrow at noon.”
My brows lifted. “Okay. I guess I’m not going to the office, then.”
Cal met my gaze, frowning slightly. “Why would you go to the office?”
“To work?”
He set the book down. “Deena, you’re pregnant. You can’t work.”
“Millions of women work while they’re pregnant. I’m not an invalid.”
“You’re not millions of women. You’re my woman.”
A thread of stress began to tighten inside me, pulling from my gut all the way through my heart and into my throat. “I’m going to work until I can’t anymore,” I said. “I have clients who expect me to deliver a service to them.”
Cal flicked his fingers as his eyes returned to his book. “You don’t need money, Deena. I’ll take care of you.”
“It’s not about the money,” I said. “It’s about my business. I can’t just drop everything.”
He closed the book again with a huff. His eyes flashed. “You need to take care of yourself now. You can’t work eighteen-hour days while you’re carrying my child.”
“Your child?” I asked. “Earlier today, it was our child.”
“You know what I mean.”
The thread of stress pulled a little tighter, fraying at the edges as panic began to take root.
I took a deep breath. “Cal,” I said, forcing my voice to gentle.
“My business is important to me. I can work and be pregnant. If you have a problem with that, I might as well move back to my apartment right now.”
His jaw clenched, and his hands tightened on the book. Then he inhaled through his nose, and his shoulders eased. He set the book down on the table and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I just…”
“Want to control everything so that nothing goes wrong?”
His gaze flicked up, and a rueful smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “You make me sound like some kind of psycho.”
The panic inside me faded. I stood, moved around the table, and sat down on his lap.
Placing my hands on either side of Cal’s face, I pressed a kiss to his lips.
“You’re not a psycho. I appreciate that you care.
But I won’t let you lock me away for the next twenty-six weeks just to ease your fears. ”
He closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine.
We stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other’s closeness, letting the stress melt from our bodies.
Cal’s hands snuck under my shirt, warm palms stroking my back.
I leaned my head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent.
“I’m terrified,” he finally said.
I kissed his neck. “I know.”
“I keep thinking I won’t be able to keep you or the baby safe. But it’s my responsibility. I have to.”
I lifted my head and looked in his eyes. “It’s not your responsibility alone. We’ll both be parents to this child. And I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”
He frowned at me but eventually nodded. Disquiet squirmed through me as I settled my head back down on his shoulder. He didn’t believe in my ability to take care of myself. Didn’t want to loosen his grip, even when it was what I needed.
But he’d bought the books, and he’d been there with me at the first scan.
He’d organized a pelvic floor physiotherapist, and he was ready to support me in any way he could.
I couldn’t turn my nose up at that just because his affection felt a little suffocating.
We’d find stable ground. We’d figure this out.
We had to.