69. Jordan
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Jordan
“Babe, quick—come here!”
I flinched, half launching the ice pack across the room as I scrambled to my feet. “What? What is it?”
She was on the hotel bed, flat on her back, T-shirt hitched up, bump out for the world to see. Grinning.
“This is so fucking weird—look.”
I crossed the room in three long strides, heart still in my throat, only to stop dead when I saw what she meant.
Her stomach was visibly contorted, a sharp, pointy elbow or knee or something sticking out in high definition.
Then came a slow, rippling movement across her skin as he changed position again.
“Jesus,” I muttered, crouching beside her. “You’ve got to stop calling me like that. Every time you yell, I think your water broke.”
She bit her lip like a naughty schoolgirl. “Sorry. It just amazes me every time he does it.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You and me both.”
She was wearing the pregnancy well. Too well, honestly, after everything.
She was all bump. Like the little guy entered the room before she did these days.
And he was always bloody moving, sticking out limbs, doing full gymnastics routines.
We’d spent hours like this, watching him, feeling him, laughing at him.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.
She was slowing down this week, moving like she was wading through water. Her bump looked heavier. Her lips were more swollen from the hormones. She ached constantly, struggled to sleep, got up to pee every half hour. But she still looked so fucking beautiful.
I settled onto the bed beside her, resting a hand gently on her stomach. She was warm and stretched tight, like her skin could barely contain him anymore.
He kicked hard against my palm, and I couldn’t help the grin that pulled at my mouth. “Oi. Settle down, mate. Your mum needs sleep.”
She huffed a little laugh and sat up, rubbing at her lower back, wincing. “He’s going to be a tennis player, isn’t he? Running all the bloody time.”
“Or a rock climber. That’s an elbow, right?” I pointed.
“God, I hope not. Though he’s never coming out if he’s got shoulders like yours.”
That made me laugh. “Rude.”
She shifted, trying to get more comfortable, but her face pinched with discomfort, and that little sound she made, the low exhale of pain she was trying not to let me hear, made my gut twist.
“Hey,” I said gently, reaching for her. “Come here.”
She looked up at me warily. “Jordan, you’ve got a final tomorrow. You need to rest—”
“And you need your back rubbed,” I cut in, already helping her sit forward so I could slide in behind her. “Come on. I’ve got magic hands.”
She didn’t argue. Just sighed and let herself sink into me, her head resting against my shoulder as I started to work slow circles into her lower back.
“God, that’s good,” she whispered.
I kissed the top of her head. “You’ve been going non-stop, Katie. I can see it.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
She was quiet for a second. “It’s just…hard to slow down. I keep thinking if I stop, I’ll miss something.”
My hand paused for a second before resuming. “You won’t. You’ve already done everything. You came here. You showed up. You’ve carried this whole baby halfway across the world.”
“And I ate gelato every day,” she murmured with a smile.
“Exactly. You’ve smashed it.” I smiled against her hair.
We sat there like that for a while, her leant back against my chest, my hand swiping idly over her bump, which was still doing its own thing.
Her breathing evened out slowly, but I could feel it, the quiet exhaustion in her body, the way she’d been slowing down.
Like her system was powering down for something bigger.
Something soon.
I swallowed, my heart tightening.
“Kate?” I asked softly, brushing her hair back behind her ear.
“Mmm?”
“Promise me you’ll tell me if anything feels off tomorrow. Even if it’s tiny. Even if you just feel weird.”
She shifted to look at me, her eyes soft but serious. “I promise.”
I leaned down and kissed her slowly, lingering with all the things I didn’t know how to say out loud. That I was terrified. That I loved her more than anything. That nothing, not even tomorrow’s match, mattered more than her and the baby.
“You’re everything,” I whispered against her lips.
She smiled into it. “We know.”