21. Freya
— ? —
Freya
Rex was outside my door with breakfast, a stack of pregnancy books, and a doctor on call.
I stared at the spread arranged on a silver tray: scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast, fresh fruit, and a smoothie that was probably full of prenatal vitamins.
Behind him stood a woman in scrubs who introduced herself as Dr. Pearson, an obstetrician who was apparently now on retainer for the duration of my pregnancy.
“It’s seven in the morning,” I said.
“You need to eat. The hospital said regular meals.” Rex pushed past me into the guest room and set the tray on the dresser. “Dr. Pearson is going to check your vitals. I’ve also arranged for a nutritionist to come by this afternoon, and Rebecca has been briefed on your dietary restrictions…”
“Rex.”
“…and I’ve ordered blackout curtains because I read that sleep quality is crucial right now, and the windows in this room get too much morning light…”
“Rex.”
“…and there’s a list of approved exercises if you want to stay active, but nothing too strenuous, and if you need anything at all, day or night, I’ve told the staff…”
“Rex!” I grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “You’re hovering.”
He blinked. “Yes.”
“It’s annoying.”
“I don’t care.”
We stared at each other for a moment, and something in his expression made my chest tighten. He was terrified. Beneath all the over-the-top planning and obsessive preparation, he was absolutely terrified of losing me again, of losing the baby, of screwing up so badly that I walked away for good.
Dr. Pearson cleared her throat diplomatically. “Perhaps I could examine Ms. Waller while you give us some privacy?”
“Mrs. Waller,” Rex corrected without missing a beat. “And yes. I’ll be right outside.”
He left, and Dr. Pearson gave me a knowing smile. “First-time father?”
“First-time everything, really. We’re still figuring it out.”
“He seems devoted.”
“He’s learning.”
She checked my blood pressure, listened to the baby’s heartbeat, and pronounced me healthy enough as long as I followed the hospital’s instructions. Rest, fluids, regular meals. No more running myself into the ground.
“Your husband has arranged for weekly checkups,” she said as she packed up her equipment. “Is that something you’re comfortable with?”
“I don’t think I get a choice.”
“There’s always a choice. But in my professional opinion? Let him take care of you. It seems like he needs it as much as you do.”
She left, and I sat on the edge of the guest room bed, staring at the breakfast tray. The eggs were exactly the way I liked them, soft and with a little bit of cheese. The toast was buttered just enough. And the fruit was all my favorites: strawberries, blueberries, mango.
He was paying attention, still.
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. Rebecca, the housekeeper, stood in the hallway with a stack of towels.
“Good morning, Ms. Freya. Where would you like your things put? Mr. Waller said to let you decide.”
Before I could answer, Rex appeared behind her.
“Mrs. Waller,” he said calmly. “And anything she wants in this house, she gets. Whatever room she prefers, whatever schedule works for her, whatever she needs. Is that clear?”
Rebecca nodded quickly. “Of course, Mr. Waller. Mrs. Waller.”
She hurried off, and I tried to pretend that Rex calling me Mrs. Waller didn’t make my knees weak. I was supposed to be maintaining boundaries here. Keeping my distance. Not swooning because my husband claimed me in front of the staff.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“Yes, I did.” He stepped into the room, keeping a respectful distance. “You’re my wife. You’re carrying my child. Everyone in this house is going to treat you accordingly.”
“We’re still in separate rooms.”
“I… can see that.”
“I’m still not sure where this is going.”
He gestured to the breakfast tray. “You should eat before it gets cold. The nutritionist said protein is important in the morning.”
“You’ve been reading those pregnancy books.”
“I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on.” He shifted on his feet, looking almost shy. “Did you know the baby can hear sounds already? I’ve been researching what kind of music is supposed to be good for development. Classical, apparently, though there’s also research about…”
“Rex.”
“Sorry. I’m doing the hovering thing again, aren’t I?”
“You are.” But I was smiling. “Sit down. Have breakfast with me.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, keeping space between us, and I pulled the tray onto my lap. The eggs were perfect. The smoothie was surprisingly good. We ate in comfortable silence, the morning light streaming through the windows.
“Thank you,” I said eventually. “For all of this. The doctor, the food, the… everything. I know I said you can’t buy your way out of things, but this feels different.”
“I’m not trying to buy anything. I’m trying to take care of you.” He set down his coffee cup. “There’s a difference.”
“I’m starting to see that.”
After breakfast, he took the tray and headed for the door. Then he stopped.
“Your feet were swelling yesterday. At the hospital. I noticed.”
“They do that now. Pregnancy thing.”
Without a word, he came back, sat at the end of the bed, and pulled my feet into his lap. His thumbs found the sore spots without me having to say anything, working the aches out with firm, steady pressure.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
Leaning back against the pillows, I let him work. The tension I’d been carrying for months slowly melted away under his hands.
“This doesn’t mean the rules change,” I said weakly.
“I know.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m serious too. I’ll respect every boundary you set.” He looked up at me, his hands still moving on my feet. “But I’m also going to take care of you. That’s not negotiable.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I just closed my eyes and let him rub my feet and pretended I still remembered what the rules were.
That night, I lay in the guest room bed, staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet, the kind of deep rural silence I’d missed at Clara’s apartment. Through the window, I could see stars, thousands of them scattered across the Texas sky like diamonds on velvet.
Rex was in the master bedroom, down the hall. Probably lying awake too, probably thinking about me, probably wanting to cross the distance between us as badly as I wanted him to.
Separate rooms, my rules.
I got up and opened the door.
Not all the way but enough. A crack of light from the hallway spilling across the floor.
An invitation, a possibility. A door left open, literally.
Just in case.
I left it open every night that week.