Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Claire
Four weeks later…
Everything in my life feels different. The morning sun glows through Erik’s loft windows, striping the floor in gold while I finish my last pumping session before heading into the kitchen. The bottles on the counter are heavy, twelve ounces today. I stare at them with a mix of awe and disbelief.
Nearly two months ago, there was nothing. Now, it feels like my body is writing a miracle story.
Erik passes behind me, fingers brushing the back of my neck in a way that feels both tender and claiming. “Good output this morning,” he murmurs, voice low. “You’re responding beautifully. And I can’t wait to drink some today.”
Heat blooms across my cheeks. I put the bottles in the fridge and pull my shirt down when someone knocks.
Grace steps inside, glowing, with one hand resting protectively over her adorable baby bump. At eighteen weeks, she’s blooming, her belly finally showing through her dress, cheeks rosy, and eyes bright.
“Look at you,” I whisper, hugging her carefully. “You’re glowing.”
“And look at you,” she teases, eyes darting to my now very expanded chest. “Mama Claire.”
I flush. “Not a mama… yet."
Grace arches a brow. “You’re producing twelve ounces a day and radiating like a nightlight. Honey, if the shoe fits…”
She sinks onto the couch, one hand rubbing slow circles on her little belly. “I feel like the baby is fluttering today,” she says softly. “I’m sure it’s probably gas, but it still feels like magic to me.”
Emotion catches in my throat. “Grace…”
“I wanted to share this moment with you.” Her smile softens. “You and I? We’re both growing something miraculous.”
I sit beside her, resting my head against her shoulder. “Thank you.”
Before she can answer, Leander bursts through the open door of the loft, cheeks pink, holding two iced coffees and a pastry bag.
“Ms. Claire! I didn’t want you going to work hungry just because you’re resting more now.” He stops, sees Grace, and beams. “Hi, Ms. Grace! Sven says hi. He’s prepping for the lunch rush.”
Grace’s laugh is warm. “Tell him I want the excellent olives this time.”
“I will!” He pauses, then adds proudly, “The store will open soon. I stayed late last night to alphabetize the new shipment by genre and author, as you taught me.”
“Leander, that’s wonderful, but please do not stay too late, okay?” I say, touched. “You’re helping me so much, and I don’t want you to burn out.”
He glows at the praise. “It’s because you trusted me first, and I promise to pay attention to my hours.”
Erik steps into view then, and Leander straightens unconsciously, like a rookie soldier seeing a general. “Sir,” he says, nodding respectfully.
Erik nods back. “Good work.”
Leander looks like he’s been handed a medal.
Leander disappears after dropping off the hot beverages. Erik had asked him to get them for us, and then Erik stepped into his office down the hall so Grace and I could visit.
Grace reaches across and squeezes my hand. “You’re loved here,” she whispers. “Don’t forget it.”
My chest aches with something warm and fragile and real.
Erik
Grace leaves, and I walk her to her car in the loft’s parking lot, noting the new security guard I stationed in the lobby two days ago. Nothing reaches Claire unless I allow it.
When I return to the loft, Claire is curled on the kitchen stool, sunlight haloing her hair, her shoulders relaxed from the morning routine. She’s a little fuller now, in body, yes, but also in presence. She moves with a quiet confidence she didn’t have nearly three months ago.
It does something to me. She hands me my coffee. “I feel wonderful today.”
“You look lovely today,” I answer simply.
She blushes. My phone buzzes. A message from Leif.
LEIF: I'm feeling unwell. Staying home today.
I study the text. Leif never gets sick. But I…
have been healing fast as of late. Faster than I recall.
Initially, I believed I was adhering to a healthier diet because Claire and I were preparing meals at home more frequently.
Except last month, after Claire fed me during a particularly heavy, stressful day, the bruise on my ribs from training healed in half the usual time.
An idea presents itself, unbidden and undeniable.
I text Leif:
ERIK: I’m stopping by with something.
He replies with a thumbs-up emoji.
Claire watches my expression. “Everything okay?”
“Leif is sick.”
Concern darkens her eyes. “Oh no… what can we do?”
I swallow. “Give me two eight-ounce bottles. Ideally, they should come from this morning's pumping session.”
She hesitates. “For him?”
“Yes.”
She doesn’t argue. She simply nods and hands them over, trusting me without question.
I kiss her forehead, a simple brush of lips that lingers too long. “I’ll be back soon.”
Her voice is soft. “Be careful.”
I always am. But I’m more careful now because she needs me alive.
Claire
The afternoon is quiet, and I rest in Erik’s bed, wrapped in one of his shirts, the blanket pulled to my chin.
I asked Leander to take the afternoon off and close up the shop since he had worked late last night.
Grace has helped me expand my bookshop online, which has really started to help with the sales.
I could rest this afternoon because I worked on that while Erik was gone.
My body feels warm and heavy, milk surging stronger in the evenings, a fullness that borders on overwhelming.
When the front door clicks, I sit up.
Erik steps inside, his expression thoughtful.
“How is Leif?” I ask immediately.
“Better already,” he says. “His fever broke an hour after he drank it.”
I blink. “That fast?”
He nods once, slow, controlled, and conflicted. “It shouldn’t be possible.”
Something cold brushes my spine. “Does this… concern you?” His eyes meet mine.
“I don’t know what it means yet,” he answers honestly. “But I know this: your body is doing something extraordinary. And I will keep you safe, no matter what.”
My breath catches, not because of fear, but because of the way he says that he’ll keep me safe because of this discovery.
I’m glad to help a family member, but this has become something concerning for us both, and I’m hopeful that whatever is happening stays safe, as Erik emphasizes.
Sunday Dinner
The Halvorsen family is warm, loud, and filled with laughter, and the smell of grilled meat has my mouth watering.
Grace is still glowing as she sits next to Bjorn who is at the head of the table, laughing, her bump poking out a little more after she just finished a rather large meal, while her father fusses over her plate, attempting to get her to eat more.
Sven grins when he sees me, waving wildly. Leander sits beside him, proud as a puppy.
I pump discreetly under a blanket while conversation hums around me.
Bjorn freezes; he looks at Grace, then back at me. Then slowly he smiles.
“Family grows in all kinds of ways,” he says roughly.
Grace squeezes his hand. Erik sits beside me, thigh pressed against mine, posture protective. His hand rests on my back, thumb brushing small reassuring arcs.
Leif arrives late, looking rested and healthy.
“Feeling better?” I ask.
He smiles. “Miraculously.”
Erik shoots him a warning look. Leif raises his hands. “Hey, I’m not asking questions.”
He glances at the blanket draped over me, blushes slightly, then looks away out of respect.
Sven leans in. “This family is wild,” he whispers to Leander.
Leander whispers back, “I love it.”
I smile as I adjust my pumps under my blanket.
And when I look up, Erik is watching me with a softness that steals my breath and a look that causes arousal to flow throughout my body.
A look that says, "You're mine. And I’m yours."
I finally understand that the warmth in my body occurs when he touches me. My body reacts to him before my thoughts can catch up. The way safety comes with him feels like being fully seen, held, and chosen.
I’m in love with him. Deeply. Completely. And when his fingers lace through mine under the table…
I know he feels it too.