Chapter 14
Adjusting to Married Life
The morning sun poured through the massive bedroom windows, casting golden streaks across the soft linen sheets. She stretched, feeling the warmth of the man beside her before she even opened her eyes. His arm draped lazily over her waist, his fingers tracing light patterns on her skin.
“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.
She turned to face him, a slow smile curling her lips. “I am now.”
His eyes roamed her face, filled with a mix of tenderness and something deeper, something that sent a thrill straight to her heart. “How are you feeling today?”
She let out a small sigh, settling closer into his embrace. “Not bad. The nausea’s manageable this morning.”
“That’s good,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Though I was ready to call the chef and demand he make you whatever insane craving you had at a moment’s notice.”
She laughed. “I think he might quit if you make him run out for pickles and ice cream again at two in the morning.”
“Worth it,” he said, his hand moving to rest over the barely noticeable swell of her belly. “Anything for you.”
Her heart squeezed at his words, at the way he looked at her like she was the most important thing in the world. The honeymoon phase of their relationship wasn’t just a phase—it was real, tangible, and something she wanted to hold on to forever.
“You’re too good to me,” she whispered.
His lips quirked into a smirk. “I know.” Then he leaned in, brushing his mouth over hers in a slow, lazy kiss that made her toes curl.
She sighed against his lips before pulling back slightly. “You have meetings today, don’t you?”
“I do.” His fingers slid up her arm in a way that made it very clear he wasn’t ready to move just yet. “But they can wait.”
She shook her head, amused. “They really can’t.”
“Fine,” he sighed dramatically before rolling onto his back. “But I’m making you breakfast first.”
This resort had everything. Nate had booked a separate office room designed for business individuals just like him.
Computers, bookshelves, a huge desk, and an almost life-size screen for Zoom meetings like the one he would have today.
It also had an incredible kitchen, chef, and staff where he or she could go to cook themselves if they chose.
This was unlike any other hotel or resort she could imagine.
But this time, he was in the not so small kitchen in the suite they were occupying. Nate ordered the ingredients brought up.
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you cooking, or is the staff?”
He smirked. “Does it matter?”
She giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping out of bed. “Come on, Mr. Billionaire, let’s see what kind of breakfast you can manage.”
He insisted on making pancakes himself. The result was a slightly misshapen but surprisingly delicious stack that they ate together at the oversized island.
Moments like these made everything feel normal—like they weren’t two people from completely different worlds, like their relationship wasn’t complicated by money, responsibility, and expectations.
“You’re staring,” she said, setting down her fork.
He leaned forward, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “I like looking at you.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the warmth that spread through her chest. “Smooth.”
“I try.” He took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “You know, we could just stay here all day. Lock the doors. Ignore the world.”
She smiled, squeezing his hand. “Tempting. But you have a company to run, and I have—”
“A baby to grow,” he finished, his expression softening as his free hand brushed against her stomach again. “You’re doing an amazing job, you know that?”
Tears pricked her eyes before she could stop them. Blame it on the hormones, or maybe just the overwhelming depth of her feelings for this man. “I’m trying.”
He kissed the back of her hand. “And I’m right here with you.”
In that moment, she knew. No matter what challenges lay ahead, no matter how much their lives were about to change, they were in this together.
She hadn’t expected pregnancy to be this exhausting.
The morning sickness, the fatigue, the rollercoaster of emotions—some days felt like a battle just to function.
No one had warned her just how much it would take out of her, how something as simple as standing in the shower could feel like running a marathon.
She’d always considered herself strong, independent, capable—but this?
This was an entirely different kind of challenge.
He noticed everything.
That morning, she barely made it to the sink before nausea overtook her.
One moment she was lying in bed, curled up beneath the warmth of the blankets, and the next, her stomach lurched violently, forcing her to bolt for the bathroom.
She gripped the cool marble counter, knuckles turning white as she squeezed her eyes shut, willing her stomach to settle.
But it didn’t. Instead, her body betrayed her, the wave of sickness rolling over her with unrelenting force.
He was there in an instant.
Strong hands brushed her hair back from her damp forehead, his touch gentle but firm. One arm slid around her waist, steadying her as she leaned over the sink, taking slow, shaky breaths.
“Deep breaths, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm and soothing. “I’ve got you.”
She hated that he had to see her like this. She hated that she felt weak and vulnerable, like a shadow of the woman she used to be.
“I’m fine,” she managed, even though the wobble in her knees told a different story.
He didn’t argue. He never did when she was like this. Instead, he wrapped an arm more securely around her, guiding her carefully toward the bed. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Let’s get you off your feet for a minute.”
She let him help her, sinking onto the edge of the mattress with a weary sigh. The nausea still simmered in the pit of her stomach, but at least she wasn’t standing anymore. That had to count for something.
“I read that ginger tea might help,” he said after a moment, crouching down in front of her. “Want me to make you some?”
She blinked at him, surprised. “You read about morning sickness?”
His sheepish smile was both endearing and exasperating. “I may have done some late-night Googling.” He reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I just want to make this easier for you.”
Her heart clenched.
The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of changes—some expected, others completely uncharted territory. But through it all, he had been right there beside her, supporting her in ways she hadn’t even realized she needed.
The lump in her throat grew. “You already do.”
She took his hand, squeezing it tightly. He was trying. Trying so hard to understand what she was going through. Trying to make this transition as smooth as possible for both of them.
A few hours later, when her cravings hit, she found herself torn between mortification and amusement.
“French fries dipped in a strawberry milkshake?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I know, it’s disgusting.”
“No, it’s not.” He was already standing, reaching for his car keys. “It’s exactly what you want, and I’m getting it for you.”
She peeked up at him. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Stay put.”
Fifteen minutes later, he returned triumphantly, a fast-food bag clutched in one hand, a large cup in the other. He set everything before her, grinning like he’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery.
“Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
She laughed, reaching for a fry. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m yours,” he countered, settling beside her as he watched her dip the fry into the milkshake and take the first bite.
It was bliss.
The perfect blend of salty and sweet, hot and cold. It shouldn’t have worked, but somehow, it did.
He chuckled as he watched her expression shift from skepticism to pure delight. “Good?”
She nodded, already reaching for another fry. “I take back every bad thing I said about this craving.”
He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re something else.”
And in that moment, she realized—she wasn’t going through this alone. He was right beside her, ready to face every craving, sickness, and fear along with her. And maybe, just maybe, that made all the difference.
She hadn’t expected pregnancy to change everything about the way she moved through the day.
Simple things—getting dressed, making breakfast, even deciding what to eat—sometimes felt overwhelming.
And then there was the exhaustion, the way it crept into her bones, making even the most manageable tasks seem insurmountable.
But what weighed on her the most wasn’t the nausea or the fatigue. It was the guilt.
She could see the strain in his eyes, the way he was trying to be everything at once—CEO, partner, expectant father. He barely left her side when he was not in his office, yet she knew work was pulling at him from all angles. His business didn’t stop needing him just because she did.
And this morning, she had proof of that.
She was curled up on the couch, sipping the ginger tea he’d made her, when he checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes.
“You’re late,” she murmured, staring into her cup, trying to keep her voice light.
“I can push the meeting back.” His hand was already on his phone, ready to make it happen.
She shook her head. “You’ve already rescheduled it twice.”
His brows furrowed. “And I’d reschedule it again if it meant taking care of you.”
Her heart twisted. She loved him for it—loved the way he always put her first—but she couldn’t be the reason he let his business suffer.
“Go,” she insisted. “I promise I’ll be fine.”
His hesitation was palpable. He crouched in front of her, his hands resting lightly on her knees. “You sure?”
She nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes. I’ll be here when I’m done in the office.”