Chapter Twenty
Once Emilia moved out of my arms and returned to her seat, I stood there, frozen for a moment, reluctant to let her go, even if only a couple feet away from me.
I had this fierce, mad urge to wrap her in bubble wrap and forbid her from ever leaving the house again.
As I slowly returned to my seat and sank back into my chair, a million items began forming on a mental “to do” list. That, I think, was my brain’s attempt to drown out the primal screaming happening in the deepest, darkest recesses of my psyche.
Emilia beamed at me as she chattered away about plans and making doctor’s appointments and asking for my feedback on when we should tell people.
And all I could do was nod, smile, absently answer while paying the least amount of attention to the discussion possible without angering her. I was otherwise expending every other minute bit of energy to keep from losing my shit right then and there.
Because, God, that internal primal screaming was growing so loud as to threaten drowning out every other thought or external stimuli—including her.
I blinked and nodded in the right places and she either didn’t notice or pretended not to. I was looking forward to holing up in my office as soon as possible just to spend some time getting my shit together so I could absorb every last implication.
But she wanted to cuddle on the couch instead.
I hesitated, tempted to give her a fake work excuse just so I could collect myself mentally, but that would be a dick move. She obviously wanted to know I was okay with this, and she wanted to feel safe. And I wanted her to feel safe too.
But I sure as hell wasn’t feeling safe myself right now. Nope. I was feeling as exposed and unprotected as a naked musk ox in the middle of an arctic blizzard, to be honest.
On the couch, she sat very close, leaning against me and resting her head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her flush against me. As if I could be her armor. I wanted to be her armor, to shield and protect her from everything and everyone out in the world.
And that wasn’t possible. Tomorrow morning, we’d part at the front door or in the parking garage, like we did almost every other morning, and she’d go her way and I’d go mine until that evening. And I’d have no control over her safety, her health.
And she wasn’t even a her anymore, she was a them, her and a potential whole new person besides. A whole new person to shower that same worry, hypervigilance and concern on.
I’d fought hard to set aside that icy primal fear because she’d so wanted to try for a baby. Somehow, however, when this had all started, I’d expected that by the time we arrived here, at this point, I’d feel better about all of this.
I only felt worse.
Emilia didn’t ask many questions, nor did she force a conversation, thankfully. After a good half hour of holding each other, she made an excuse to go do some things on her list before hitting the sack early. She was bone-tired, even after that nap.
Me? I quietly made my way up to my office and shut the door, sitting at the desk and opening my laptop. I thought I could get lost in my current coding side-project or even some hack and slash on a game that I didn’t design.
Instead, I caught myself an hour later just sitting there staring at a blank screen.
Well, not completely blank. It was a long to-do list of everything we needed to get done with a sub list of questions we needed to ask the doctor on our first visit.
How would they be monitoring to make sure her cancer wouldn’t come back now that she was being exposed to pregnancy hormones?Because right up until we made the decision to try for a baby, she’d been actively taking hormone blockers to prevent the cancer from coming back.
Now, not only was she off those protective measures, but she was now actively exposing her body to even more than the normal dose of hormones—progesterone, most especially.
Given all the reading I’d been doing, I was well on the way to earning my own goddamn medical degree. I was even starting to understand the medicalese—which, in my opinion, was equal to legalese in every way, though Emilia would die on that hill if we ever discussed it.
In this, at least, she was far more risk averse than I had been. Risk myself? My work? My company? Yes, I’d done those things.
Risk her in even the slightest? No fucking way.
I blinked, suddenly overcome with the urge to go running—or to go somewhere where I couldbelt out a respectable primal scream without getting the cops called or bringing out the neighborhood watch to witness my semi-public meltdown.
Or maybe I could just go for a drive, take the Porsche out to some high desert road in the middle of nowhere, and speed like a fucking demon for only the cacti and coyotes to witness.
Fuck. Anything but all this living—and feeling—going on in my head right now.
It was a dark place to be.
After realizing I’d just burned an hour staring at that screen, I slammed the damn laptop shut the moment she walked into the room to give me another long hug and a kiss goodnight.
I followed her into our bedroom and literally tucked her into bed like a child. I lay beside her for about a half hour before kissing her cheek and whispering that I needed to go for a run.
Then I got into my running clothes and, bypassing the home gym, went out to run along the deserted beach. After midnight on a weeknight, it was dead out there. And dark.
I could have gone directly to the shoreline and screamed into the face of the ocean.
But by the time I’d hit eight miles, I was too exhausted to do anything but limp home and take a long hot shower in the guest bathroom.
Hours later, I slid into bed beside her peacefully breathing form. My body—and mind—were just the right kind of exhausted that I slid into unconsciousness with minimal effort.
And yet, I knew that I wouldn’t have the luxury of being able to do that every night.
Somehow or other, I had to find a way to cope, to deal with this. To be the equal, loving and supportive partner that she’d need—and deserved. I had to hold it together without making it look like I was fighting to hold it together. Day in and day out.
Because...winter was coming, as they say. And with it, a massive change that I wasn’tready for.
And yet, I had to be.
I chose to work from home the next day so we could spend the morning together. And when it was time for her to leave for another long call shift, I had to fight the urge to keep her from leaving the house.
She seemed so...normal. Yet nothing was normal.
I wanted to tail her like the secret service or a creepy stalker—I didn’t care what the visual was, as long as she was safe.
But the truth of the matter was that I couldn’t keep her safe all the time. It was beyond my power. And in order to keep myself sane, I had to not dwell on that thought.
So I welcomed every diversion I could, throwing myself into my work and accepting any social occasion I could—even when it was a martial arts class that I hadn’t been great about showing up for in the past.
My cousin, Liam, had rented the studio where he practiced sword fighting and enlisted us to join him a few times a month. It was mostly a fun way to get the guys together.
In the few months since I’d last been able to attend, Liam had added a few new people from work—Lucas Walker and Jeremy Holme, both employees of Draco.
Though the others knew better than to be nervous around the boss, Jeremy and Lucas hadn’t quite gotten that memo yet. I tried to ignore their worried-looking side-eye in the locker room and during warm up.
I was semi-tempted to cash in on the intimidation by allowing them to graciously let me win every bout—like I was some kind of medieval king whose subjects wouldn’t dare challenge for real.
And then there was the only non-Draco employee and the least likely person to cut me any slack—Heath. He just happened to be matched up with me on our first bout. Liam was taking the opportunity, while we were warming up, to circulate among us and watch our progress. He was in his element—sword fighting and telling the people closest in his life what to do—his two favorite things besides art.
I wondered if he’d missed his calling and should have become a teacher, like his girlfriend. Though it took an entirely special breed of person to tolerate high school students all day long, and I doubted Liam was one of them.
“Adam, stop dropping your arm when you retreat. You’re opening yourself up to him.”
I gave a shrug and threw Heath a sly grin. “I was just giving the poor guy a fighting chance.”
Heath laughed and rolled his eyes, but Liam, of course, failed to see the sarcasm. “Heath should be cutting you the slack, given that you’ve been missing classes.”
“It’s called running a triple-A gaming studio. The very one that writes your paychecks.”
As I knew he would, Liam looked unimpressed. “I get my pay directly deposited into the bank. Now don’t change the subject and stop dropping your sword arm like that.”
“Yes, Sir William,” I said with a military-style salute anachronistic for the Middle Ages.
Heath lunged at me like a man with a vendetta. At some points during our fraught relationship, I would never have trusted him with a sword around me. But lately, things had gone well. Our relationship always depended almost entirely on whatever was going on with Emilia. Since our wedding, it had been smooth sailing. I wondered, though, if he knew our secret news, would it send him lunging at me with that thing, point first?
He’d hit me before.
“What’s going on with you, man?” Heath finally asked after he’d gotten his second not-so-light hit. Even with padded armor on, those unsharpened metal swords could pack a wallop.
I shrugged. “I’m rusty. It’s been a while.”
“It’s more than that.” He leaned his sword against his legs to readjust the Velcro straps holding his padded bracers in place. “You seem really distracted.”
I shifted, readjusted my stance and gave a self-conscious look around me. “I have a lot on my mind, yeah. Just wanted to blow off some steam tonight.”
Heath’s brow tweaked up. “You should spar with one of the newbies, then. They are quick, fast, and young but lacking experience. Perfect for blowing off steam.”
I gave a self-conscious shrug. “All right man, I see how it is. You don’t want the competition.” I grinned and winked.
“Or...I don’t want to answer to my best friend about why her husband is covered in bruises and I had no real reason to put them there.”
I replied with a laugh and ended up sparring with Liam—who had no such compunction about leaving me covered with bruises and having to explain it to my wife.
He shook his head repeatedly. “You’re not focusing, Adam.”
I sighed for what seemed like the twentieth time. “I am. You’re just better at this than I am.”
“I am better than you because I work out every single day, train multiple times per week and still attend coaching. But normally you fight at a higher level than this.”
“You and Heath are ganging up on me.” I sent him a grin.
“You and Heath are evenly matched,” Liam replied evenly. “Normally. But you haven’t been here in over a month.”
“So yeah, I’m rusty...and okay, distracted.”
“A bad combination. You’re going to have bruises all over.”
“So you’ve said.” And just to express a little bit of irritation with him, I took a cheap shot and slapped the flat of my blade against his thigh. He let out a sharp grunt and glared at me. I shrugged, dancing back as he responded in kind, and thankfully, missed me. “Hey, might as well give you a few that you have to explain to Jenna.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Jordan said as he appeared out of virtual thin air at my shoulder. “Just tell her you got them at the BDSM club we all visited instead of nerd sword fighting practice. She’ll find it sexy.”
Liam glared at Jordan. “I highly doubt it.”
Jordan shrugged good-naturedly and flashed a grin. “Well, it worked on April.”
“Because you visiting an institution like that is much more believable than it would be for me.”
Jordan turned to me. “I’m not sure, but I think I’ve just been insulted.”
I laughed but our task master straightened, posture stiffening. Uh oh, I knew that look. Liam was losing patience. “Are you two planning to stand around and joke or are you planning to improve your skills?”
“I guess they’re mutually exclusive at Sir William’s school?” I shrugged.
Without replying, Liam pointed at Jordan. “You, go do the last bout against Jeremy. Adam, you’re up against Lucas.”
Jordan grabbed a towel and wiped his face. “I’d tear off my shirt but there are no women around here to impress. And Jeremy would probably put some real painful marks on me.”
“I’m only allowing those in padded armor to spar. No room for injuries.” Liam decreed before walking off.
For the last bout, I fought Lucas and, to my chagrin, I found that he’d improved a great deal when he left a throbbing welt on my thigh and then promptly dropped his sword in a near panic. “Fuck, man, I’m so sorry. Can I get you some ice?”
I took a deep breath, let it out, and walked around on the injured leg. It smarted but wasn’t serious. “I’m fine.”
“Can I get you a glass of water?”
“I’m okay, really. Let’s get on—”
“We can grab the wooden swords off the rack instead of using the metal ones,” he interrupted once more.
I stared him down while he fidgeted uneasily.
“Listen, I’m not going to fire you if you hurt me or defeat me but if you keep making me feel like I’m too old to fight you, then we’re going to have words.”
“As long as the words aren’t you’re fired.” He sent me a sheepish grin.
I angled the tip of my sword directly at him. “Put your fucking sword up.”
I ended up beating him at that bout—but only barely.
I vowed to come back more often.
I had a feeling that for the next nine months I was going to have a lot of steam to blow off, and be in need of a support system to help me through it.
And though the guys didn’t know our big news right now, they soon would.
And that knowledge helped, too.