39. Willa
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
WILLA
I t took all of my composure to keep from erupting into tears right there in Dr. Quentin’s office.
Three to four weeks of bedrest to see if the spotting will stop.
I have a business to run, and an intern to teach.
A fucking New Year’s Eve party to suffer through tomorrow. I can’t do any of that from my bed.
“Gem?” Trevor asks, face pinched into a frown.
“I’m fine.” My fingers are gripped so tightly in my lap, I’m not sure how he wiggles his in between them, but as soon as he intrudes and brings my hand to his lips, a wave of calm washes over me.
“Nah. We’re not doing that anymore, remember? Talk to me.”
“I’m just pissed that I’ll be stuck in bed for a month.
And I have to come up with an emergency plan for the studio now.
” I reach my other hand up to slide my camera charm against the chain, the new habit quickly occupying my fingers.
It’s more than aggravation. Ever since I found out I was pregnant, a small part of me has held on to the hope that I could somehow make Europe happen.
Despite the extreme costs a new baby brings, there’s been a small glimmer that I could make it work—even if it’s a year from now.
But every complication I’ve had threatens to snuff out that hope, and now that I won’t be working for a month, I can barely see the flicker.
I underestimated just how taxing all of this would be.
Juggling a business, a baby, and a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Europe feels daunting now.
Trevor nods and kisses the back of my hand again, knowing I don’t need a solution from him. I’ll figure it out; I always do. Him sitting with me while I process this means more than any problem-solving could.
He pulls his SUV up to the cluster mailbox, then sets the pile of mail in my lap as he finds a place to park.
Flipping through the junk ads and bank statements gives me a short reprieve from my brooding until my fingers still on the large white envelope at the bottom.
I read U . S . Department of before the final words are obscured by a stream of blurriness.
The car jolts when Trevor parks, and his arms are around me as soon as his seatbelt hits against the window.
There’s no hope of stopping this right now.
Holding my passport in my hands is the final whisper in the wind to snuff out the one thing I’ve dreamed about for years.
This envelope represents something that remains just out of reach—just out of my ability—as my responsibilities drag me back down to earth.
I’m about to be a mom. Babies are little for a while, and as much as I’ve tried to hold on, there will be no Europe anytime soon.
To give the nurturing I never got, I need to shift my priorities.
My shoulders tremble while I come to conclusions I’ve pushed away for weeks.
“Let’s get you settled inside, sweetheart.
” Trevor presses a kiss to my forehead as he grabs the stack of mail, the simple act sending a fresh torrent through me.
Even without understanding all this nonsense, his support is a constant.
He’s the calm in the storm, the beacon of light, and as he leads me into the house, he’s every last bit of comfort I need.
Trevor drops the mail on the counter and leads me back to the bedroom.
I’m still a bumbling mess when he sets me on the edge of the bed, and even more of a disaster as I watch him pull my favorite pajamas from my dresser.
He takes them into my bathroom, and as soon as I hear the shower turn on, I wail.
Going from stifling despair at losing my dream to utter admiration as I watch Trevor ignore everything else just to care for me shatters my last remaining walls. I adore this man.
He guides me to the bathroom, wipes my tears with his thumbs, and presses a kiss to my lips.
“You relax in the shower. I’ll meet you in the room with a snack when you’re done.
” The door closes behind him, and I have no hesitation to do what he says.
The way my heart is lit up like a Christmas tree, he could ask me to Hula Hoop, and I’d do it.
After showering, I snuggle under the covers and reach for my computer. No sooner than I have it open, Trevor sets a snack tray down on the nightstand and kicks off his jeans with a smile. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“We’re on bedrest, remember?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m on bedrest. You have things to do…”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about…” He slides his oatmeal quarter zip sweater over his head, leaving him in a white undershirt, and steps toward the bed.
“Tre—”
“The only thing I have to do right now is hold my girl until she doesn’t feel like the world is ending.”
The tips of my ears burn, and I melt down to my toes. “Your girl? Is this middle school?”
“Yep. We go together. Now move over and let me snuggle you.”
I set my computer aside, and as soon as he’s in the bed, he pulls me to his chest. “You got a passport?” he asks.
“I’m pretty sure mail theft is a federal offense.”
He laughs. “I didn’t open it. It was right on top. I’d recognize that envelope anywhere.” I look up at him with raised brows, and he explains, “I like to travel. Passport paperwork is hard to hide.”
“Yeah, well, it can stay right in that envelope for all I care. I can’t use it anytime soon. ”
“Where were you going?”
My shoulder raises with my deep sigh. “I was saving for a trip to Europe before all of this happened.”
“Europe’s pretty nice.”
“You’ve been?”
“Yeah, all over. My family took a trip to Italy when I graduated high school. I went to Oktoberfest with some Coast Guard buddies when we had port calls in the Netherlands. Then France a few years ago, but I didn’t explore much there.
” He clears his throat. “Where in Europe were you planning on going?”
“All over. I’ve always had this dream of taking a few months and photographing everything I could—architecture, landscape, the rich art history, food—all of it.
I wanted to hit every country I could and just get lost. I was so close too.
” My eyes burn, and I close them to stave off another downpour.
“Why are you talking in past tense, Gem?”
“Because I can’t juggle snapping my way through Europe while holding a newborn on my boob.”
“The baby won’t be a newborn forever, and you wouldn’t have to juggle anything.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I’ll be behind you, holding the baby while you take all the pictures you want.”
I scoff, but the intensity in his eyes holds me captive.
“Sweetheart, you’re not giving up your dream just because we’ll have a kid.”
“Yeah, that’s nice to think about. But babies change things.”
His head shakes. “Not this. You deserve to follow your dreams. Your happiness is important to me. I’m not letting you give this up.
” He strokes my cheek, eyes boring into mine like he’s engraving his promise into stone.
“This is just the beginning, Willa. The best is yet to come.” His lips grace mine, his kiss unlocking every secret combination to my heart, mind, and soul.
He pours into me the hope I’m failing to keep a hold of, and I clutch to him for more.