Chapter 30
Titus
“You don’t look like you feel great.” The doctor is barely in the room before her lips tip into a frown. “Are you still struggling with morning sickness?”
My eyes move from Mariah to the doctor as I wait to see how she answers. It’s gotten more difficult to get her to drink the amount of fluids I know she needs every day. It doesn’t matter how many pretty cups I order or what I fill them with, I can’t convince her to empty any of them.
Eating isn’t going any better.
“I don’t feel sick as much.” Mariah presses her lips together, like she intends to only admit part of the truth. But then her eyes come to me, holding for a second before she spills the rest. “But if I eat or drink too much I start feeling bad again.”
The doctor’s brows lift. “So you’re not eating or drinking?”
Again, Mariah’s eyes come to me before she answers. “Not much. Nothing sounds good.”
“That’s not great.” The doctor turns to face the screen of the computer she rolled in with her. “You’ve lost more weight.” She pulls out the tape measure she keeps in her pocket. “Let’s see how you’re measuring.”
After laying Mariah back, she runs the flexible strip down Mariah’s middle, passing over the slight swell of her lower belly.
I watch the whole thing without blinking, looking for any sign of worry on the doctor’s face.
I breathe a little easier when she seems satisfied, but that stops when the doctor frowns at the screen of her computer.
“Your blood pressure is way too low today.” Her lips flatten as she gives Mariah another visual scan. “I think I’m going to send you in to get some IV fluids. See if we can get you feeling a little bit better.”
Mariah’s eyes widen. “Oh.” She goes even paler. “I was hoping things were getting better since I wasn’t throwing up as much.”
“Throwing up isn’t technically the problem.
It’s not a pleasant experience, but the resulting dehydration is the primary issue.
” The doctor gives her a stern look. “And not drinking enough liquid also results in dehydration.” She goes back to her computer.
“And dehydration can lead to nausea, so the whole thing is a vicious cycle.”
“Will the IV fluids help stop the cycle?”
Both women turn to look at me as I ask the question, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped. I’ve tried to just be a silent supporter these two visits, but I want to take care of Mariah the best I can, and I need to understand what she’s really facing to be able to do that.
“They might not stop it, but they will definitely help her feel better.” The doctor gives me an encouraging smile. “The best thing she can do is eat and drink a little bit at a time, all day long.” She turns for the door. “Give me just a minute and I’ll have paperwork for you to take with you.”
When she leaves the room, Mariah’s eyes immediately start to fill with tears.
Shit.
I’m on my feet before the first one can fall, pulling her against me. “Don’t worry. IVs are easy and this is going to make you feel so much better.”
Mariah sniffs. “I’m not worried about the IV.” She buries her face in my shirt. “I’m worried because I’m already a terrible mother.”
“You aren’t already a terrible mother.” The reassurance is easy to offer. “And you will never be a terrible mother.”
What she’s dealing with right now has nothing to do with the baby or the shitty parent genetics she’s worried were passed down, and everything to do with the fact that Mariah doesn’t put herself first. No matter how bad things get, she always just powers through, believing it will get better.
And I fucking love that about her. It’s a big part of why I’m not still sitting behind a locked door.
But right now it’s making her sick, and I can’t let that continue.
“What we’re going to do is go to the hospital and get you hydrated. Then we’re going to go home and you are going to take a nap.” I reach down, lifting her chin until her eyes meet mine. “And then we’re going to come up with a plan to keep you feeling good and Peanut growing, okay?”
“Okay.” The word isn’t the resounding agreement I’d like for it to be, but it’s a good sign she’s not pretending she’s actually fine. That’s something that has happened less and less every day, but still occasionally occurs.
Luckily, I’m getting real fucking good at identifying it.
The nurse comes back, giving us our papers and directions for where to go once we arrive at the ER, and Mariah and I go on our way.
The process is surprisingly smooth, making me wonder if this is a pretty common occurrence. I don’t hope there are many women suffering like this, but the two pregnancies I’ve witnessed had this issue, so I have to assume it’s not rare.
Once Mariah is a bag of fluids heavier, I take her home, fully intending to tuck her into bed. But when my house comes into view, it becomes clear that might not be an option.
Mariah leans forward in her seat. “What in the heck is going on?”
“It looks like the construction crew must be ahead of schedule.” There are pickup trucks stationed all around my house, and men and women milling across the yard.
I’m thrilled to get started preparing my house for the baby, but I’m starting to realize it might not be quite as easy to live in it during the renovation as I thought.
“Wow.” Mariah watches out the windshield as we pull into the driveway. "Jason really doesn't mess around, does he?"
I may have led her to believe Jason is the reason things were able to progress as quickly as they have, but that's not the whole truth. Yes, Jason has contacts who owe him favors, but at the end of the day, money talks.
And I've got a lot to say.
Pulling into the garage, I close the door and help Mariah inside, leading her up to our room.
The plan is to leave that area of the house untouched for as long as possible.
Since it can be closed off and remain quiet, it will allow at least a small area where Mariah can rest, unbothered by the noise.
I'm not sure what I'm going to do when it has to be partially gutted to make sure the whole space makes sense.
I don't see me being okay with her not having a place to hide away. Especially as her pregnancy progresses.
But that is a problem I’ll deal with tomorrow. Right now, I need to focus on maintaining the hydration Mariah just received.
Once she's changed into one of her favorite lounge sets and curled up in bed watching the large television now mounted to the wall, I go downstairs and start filling cups.
Over the weeks, I've ordered countless options for her to choose from, and maybe I was going about it wrong when I rotated through them.
Maybe the best plan is to put something different in each one and have the whole fucking fleet ready to go.
It actually might be a brilliant idea, so I start filling insulated tumblers with everything from orange juice to iced tea to ginger ale, lining them down the counter as I go. I'm just screwing the lid on the final beverage when my front door opens.
My mom makes it all the way into the kitchen before stopping. "Shit." Her face scrunches in a wince. "I meant to knock."
"Don't worry about it." I can imagine this has been a little bit of an adjustment for her. For years, knocking did her no good. She’s used to simply letting herself in my house, and in general I don't mind. Usually, it wouldn’t be a problem.
Occasionally, however, I may have the chef she hired for me spread across the office desk with my head between her thighs, and I can’t imagine she would love walking in on that. I'm betting Mariah would hate it even more. Especially since we still haven't told my mother what's going on between us.
"Well, I will knock next time." My mother's eyes scan the army of cups on the counter, but she doesn't say anything about them, instead focusing on the other development going on under my roof. "Did something happen? Did your water heater flood or a toilet overflow?"
I can't help but raise my brows. She really thinks there would be this many people here for a little water leak? I highly doubt it. My mother knows her way around most things, so I’m betting she's just trying to figure out where to start fishing.
"I decided to do some renovations. It seemed silly to leave the upstairs the way it is now that.
.." I almost confess, but I don’t want to put Mariah in that position.
When to tell my family will be something we discuss and decide on together.
"Now that I'm starting to spend more time outside of my rooms."
“That’s fantastic.” My mother sounds genuinely excited. “Your house should fit the life you’re living, and I can’t say I’m upset this one no longer suits you.” Her eyes drift around the main level, snagging on where the crew is plotting out the addition. “Are you also expanding?”
“I am.” I keep the answer simple, holding my breath to see if she’ll let it slide.
A dazzling smile takes over her face. “I can’t wait to see it.” Her brows pinch. “Where are you going to stay during construction?”
My plan sounds even worse now that I have to admit it to my mother. “Jason and I talked about it and he thinks they can keep my rooms untouched for most of the process, so we’re hoping to just stay here.”
I don’t register what I’ve essentially said until my mother slow blinks at me, like her brain is processing the new information I accidentally gave her. That if my rooms are the only ones untouched, everyone in the house will be staying in them. Together.
But my mom’s bright smile is back almost immediately, no sign of suspicion when she says, “It will definitely be an adventure.”
It’s the same opinion Mariah had when we talked about how to handle the renovation. She didn’t bat an eye at living in a construction zone. Didn’t seem fazed over the chaos and dust heading right for us. Like so much else that’s happened in her life, she just rolled with it.
“It’ll be something.” I grin, looking forward to every bit of it. “I’m surprised Jason didn’t already tell you what was going on.”
My mother lifts her chin, looking a little miffed. “Jason’s been oddly tight-lipped lately.”
I’ll have to remember to give him a bonus for not telling my mother about seeing me and Mariah together. To be fair, he’s already making a shit ton off me, so it’s in his best interest to stay on my good side.
“Weird.” I lean back against the counter, crossing both arms over my chest as I redirect the conversation. “What are you up to today?”
My mother lifts one shoulder and lets it drop, but the motion seems forced. Not a genuinely casual movement. “I was just out and about and saw all the trucks.”
Out and about. Sure.
“It’s a little early for you to be scoping out your flower fields.” She’s up to something, and considering the last time she was up to something I ended up with a hired chef, I’d like to know what her newest scheme is.
And if I’m the one in the line of fire.
“I just heard Brooke might be in town, and thought she could possibly be coming to see Copper.” Again, my mother is acting overly casual about her activities. “I didn’t want to miss her if she was here.”
I’m sure she’s telling the truth. My mother has always loved Tobias’s ex, Brooke. They have a lot in common. Both women are driven. Motivated. Hard working. Dedicated. Smarter than just about everyone around them.
I have to assume that particular characteristic is what led to Brooke leaving my dumbass of a brother behind.
“I haven’t heard anything about Brooke being in town.” I know her family is still here, so it’s possible, but Tobias hasn’t been in a shit mood, so I doubt there’s any truth in the rumor.
Again my mother shrugs, and again it seems almost performative rather than the gesture of a woman genuinely unbothered. “It’s fine. I just thought it would be nice to see her.” She gives me a small smile. “I bet she and Mariah would get along well.”
I snort just imagining the two of them together. “I think she and Mariah would raise hell together.”
And I don’t think it would be the worst thing that ever happened.
Maybe the next time Brooke really is in town, I’ll try to set something up for them to meet.
Have a spa day or something. See if Brooke can give Mariah some pointers about existing in the Bradshaw world without losing her mind five hundred times a day.
That’s another reason I’ve hesitated to disclose the relationship she and I are building.
The second my family—my mother especially—knows what’s going on, the attention will be smothering.
No one I’m related to does anything halfway, and finding out there’s about to be a grandchild for my parents, and a niece or nephew for my brothers, to dote on, everything’s going to change.
I think for the better, but it’s still going to be an adjustment for Mariah. And she’s already so overwhelmed by the pregnancy and the sickness that’s come with it. Now I’m adding a house renovation and weekly trips to the office.
“I think it would be good for Mariah to make some friends here in town.” My mother smirks. “You can’t have her all to yourself all the time. I’d love for her to feel at home here in Willow Bend. That won’t happen if she doesn’t get to experience it.”
My mother has a point. On all counts.
I want this to be Mariah’s new home. I want her to love it here. I’m working hard to make sure she loves this house. But I kind of forgot there was more to the world than this place.
For me, there wasn’t until very recently. And Mariah’s the reason for the expansion I’ve made to my world.
I want to help expand hers.
And I think I know exactly how to accomplish it.