Chapter 18 #2
“Explode? I thought that was yesterday,” Heather said.
“It’s every day,” April burst out, hands splayed on the table. “I love that man more than life itself, but I’m starting to worry I might actually murder him.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Her blood pressure is high,” Mal answered, appearing as if out of thin air.
“It was one twenty-nine over eighty-three.” April rolled her eyes, smoothing the drape of her floral summer dress so it covered her pale knees. “Mal was about ready to phone an ambulance.”
“Google said to treat it like an emergency if it spiked again.”
129 over 83 was barely even borderline. Not ideal, but not worth rounding up the cavalry so long as it didn’t hit 140. Given the ghostly white pallor of Mal’s face, now didn’t seem like the ideal moment to voice that opinion.
“Did you take your anti-nausea meds?” Heather asked.
April nodded. “Right before Mal decided to play paramedic.”
“I have my medical kit in the car,” I said, already heading to get it. Knowing my brother, this was the easiest way to ease his anxiety. A minute later, I was sliding the cuff over April’s slender arm. Pumping in air while Mal hovered like a nursemaid.
“One eighteen over eighty,” I declared, checking her pulse next, just to be safe. “There’s no immediate concern. Though we’ll keep an eye on it; pre-eclampsia is a risk with high blood pressure.”
Mal nodded, and I swore I could see the fear evaporating from his body. “Should she be resting more?”
“I’m resting more than enough. If I watch any more daytime TV it won’t matter how high my blood pressure is, because I’ll walk into the sea, and that’s not hyperbole.” She pronounced it hy-per-bole.
“It’s pronounced hy-pur-buh-lee,” I cut in, when I definitely shouldn’t have.
All three of them glared at me. Mal pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned to April. “If you’re that bored, read a book.”
“I’ve read them,” April replied.
“You’ve read all the books?” Mal said, exasperated.
“All the books I care to read. I can’t read romance right now, because y’know, I’m horny all the time.” April pointed at her belly, and despite this awful fucking situation, I laughed as Mal’s cheeks turned scarlet. “And crime just adds to the nausea.”
“What happened to crocheting?” he suggested.
“I’m out of yarn.” April’s voice ricocheted an octave higher. Mal levelled a sigh, clearly aware he was dealing with a woman whose emotions were so out of whack that even she couldn’t make sense of them.
He fell to his knees before her, squeezing her hands. “I know you’re fucking sick of this, princess, and I don’t get how you’re feeling, but I’m begging you to take it easy.”
“And I’m begging you to let me decide for myself.” She pulled back from him, pushing all of her weight into the table in order to stand. Three pairs of hands shot out to help her, but she waved us all away. “I can make it back to the house; I’m not an invalid.”
“I’ll help – go with – you,” Heather said. “It’s my lunch break anyway.”
I watched April waddle out the door. Mal looked absolutely wretched. The second she was out of sight, he said, “I’m fucking this up.”
“If it’s any consolation, I think most men do.”
“How would that be a consolation—”
“Woah, woah,” I held my hands up. “All I meant was, how April is feeling, the constant irritability, it’s normal.
Her due date is only weeks away, she’s uncomfortable, her hormones are all over the place, anxiety about labour and motherhood are likely starting to creep in.
She’s just trying to hold on to the scraps of her old life before everything changes. ”
“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” Mal groaned, scrubbing a trembling hand through his hair until it stood on end.
“I’m not trying to be controlling, but April is so steadfast. And that’s what I love most about her.
But sometimes it comes at the cost of herself, y’know.
She never puts her own needs first.” Like someone else I knew.
“She’s . . . she’s more than I ever dared to dream of, and to start a family with her too – I think there’s a part of me that will always be waiting for something terrible to happen.
” His throat bobbed. “I’ve been more nervous about this pregnancy than she has. ”
Shit. “That’s the increased grey and white matter,” I said, patting him on the shoulder.
“April’s body is obviously going through a huge change, but so is yours.
Your brain is quite literally adapting in preparation to be a father, increasing your empathy and threat detection.
You aren’t the first man in history to try to wrap your partner in cotton wool, and you won’t be the last.”
Mal nodded, but it was weak. “Maybe she’ll forgive me if I give her a foot rub or something.”
A foot rub . . .
“Please tell me that’s not a euphemism for something.” I groaned. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t need to know that shit.”
“Wait, wait, wait, I was talking about an actual foot rub, but you’re saying . . . we can still have sex?” He was so pale he looked like the last remaining victim in a horror movie.
“Of course.” Was he being serious? “You own more biology books than I do. How do you not know this?”
“Obviously I know that. And we did at first, but—” His hands flew to his hips.
“She’s been so tired these past few months, I’d be the world’s most selfish arsehole to ask the pharmacist, ‘Hey, can I still fuck my wife?’ while picking up her prescription for excessive morning sickness.
She wants to but it seems safer for both of them to just not—”
Bloody hell. “Mal, I say this not as your brother, but as a doctor. Get the fuck home.” Heightened sex drive was common for some women late into pregnancy, and if April— I broke off the thought with a laugh. “No wonder she’s so pissed off.”
His eyes bulged, the gravity of his mistake dawning on him. I shook my head and pointed to the door. “Go. I can handle the rest of the delivery.”
It was for the best, I thought, watching him race out the door. The later I got home, the less alone time I’d have with Isla.
I pulled out my phone, already seeing another text from her, even though I hadn’t replied to the last.
Isla: Thoughts on apple pie?
Four innocuous words and I was grinning. That’s literally all it took.
Pull yourself together. I replied: Classic. Delicious.
Isla: Exactly, classically boring.
Alistair: Blueberry?
Isla: Doesn’t scream WOW. Annabelle will probably make something with gold leaf, then use the prize money to redo my kitchen.
Alistair: Screw Annabelle.
Isla: Not you too.
I laughed out loud as I typed, Not fucking funny, Lang.
Isla: A little bit funny.
Isla: My place at 6pm?
I didn’t even hesitate. I’ll be there.