Shopping for a CEO's Baby (Shopping for a Billionaire Series Book 16), стр. 46
As if on cue, my lower belly pulls in. She senses it, but looks to the monitor.
“Here we go,” she whispers, watching. We all do. It's amazing. What my body does is being tracked on that thin strip of paper, documented in a way that medical professionals will interpret, then act on.
All to save lives.
I breathe through it. It’s painful, but in a shallow way. If nothing else, I feel grateful: My body is showing the doctor what's going on.
“Just breathe. You've crested the peak. The rest is downhill.”
I let out a long, slow sigh.
“Now drink.”
Andrew hands me the water.
“Here's what I see, Amanda. You're experiencing early contractions. Twin pregnancies have their own rhythm, so you can't go by singleton timelines. You're at thirty weeks. We want these little boys to cook for a while longer. We can do a cervical exam, but I'd prefer to wait and have you come into the office tomorrow and we'll do a full workup then.”
“I'm not–I'm not having the babies now?”
“No. Definitely not.” She looks at the water in my hand. “Keep drinking that.”
I obey doctor's orders.
“They need more time, don't they?” Andrew asks. “What if–”
“Let's not play the what-if game, Andrew,” she says kindly. “That will drive you crazy.”
“This is driving me crazy, too.”
“Amanda, you're fine. The babies are fine. We'll see you tomorrow in the office–it'll be a chance to meet another doctor in the practice,” she says with a chuckle.
“I do have two left I haven't met.”
She nods. “And I want you on bed rest.”
“What?”
“Bed rest is best, until you reach thirty-six weeks.”
“That's six more weeks! I can't just sit around for six weeks!”
Andrew interrupts. “You can, and you will.”
“I have a department to run!”
“We'll argue about this later,” Andrew says tersely as Dr. Armaji gives us side eye, using a stylus on a tablet to document something.
“Don't you mean discuss?”
His failure to answer fills me with dread.
Right. Argue it is.
The doctor hands me a short list of instructions that define exactly what bed rest means, but then her phone beeps. She looks at it and frowns.
“Excuse me. I have to take this. Laboring multipara.” She slips into the hall for a moment.
“How are you?” he asks, wincing the second the words are out because duh–how does he think I am?
But I also get it. I know what he means.
“I'm terrified.”
“So am I,” he confesses, surprising me.
“You are? Damn.” The tears fill my throat. “You're never afraid. That means I should be even more scared.”
“No! No, honey. That's not what I want. I was just being open.”
“I think I liked you better when you were an emotionless automaton fixated on work.”
“You've changed me enough that I can't go back to being like that anymore.”
“Is that a compliment?”
The doctor slips back in at that moment, so we shut up. I read the paperwork.
My eyes skim the part about sex.
No intercourse.
“None?” I gasp, Dr. Armaji clearly understanding exactly what I'm reading.
“There are plenty of safe sexual practices you and your husband can engage in, but at this point, intercourse isn't one of them,” she begins.
Is Andrew blushing?
His brow tightens–jaw, too–as he keeps his eyes on a spot at the hollow of my throat.
“We'll figure it out. That's the least of our worries,” he says firmly, making the doctor smile slightly.
“Good to hear. Not all partners are as understanding.”
“I'm not all partners, Doctor.”
He definitely is not.
In so many more ways than this one.
“Amanda, it's been twelve minutes since the last one.”
“It has?”
She nods. “How do you feel?”
“Deflated. Scared. Embarrassed.”
Andrew recoils. “Embarrassed?”
She pats my shoulder. “Never feel embarrassed. You're at thirty weeks with twin boys, who have underdeveloped lungs. You woke up to contractions coming close together. You did the right thing to come in.”
“But–”
“And you need to come back tomorrow. Just because I'm sending you home with strict bed rest orders doesn't mean this isn't serious.”
“Strict bed rest?”
“You need to be in bed or in a chair with the exception of bathroom breaks.”
“That's it?”
“That's it. Car rides to doctor's appointments are fine. But no dining out, no travel, nothing.”
“That sounds horrible!” I grumble. “But I'll do it.”
“Of course you will.” Andrew kisses my cheek.
“And no sex?” I ask again, struggling to process it all.
“We'll do it.” He frowns. “Or won't do it.” His hand rubs my shoulder. “We'll figure it out.”
I lean toward him and whisper in his ear. “I can still blow–”
Dr. Armaji clears her throat. “I'm sure you're capable of figuring out details. Just make sure nothing foreign enters your vagina, Amanda. And no orgasms.”
Andrew starts choking.
“None?” I squeak.
“I'm sorry. They increase blood flow to the uterus and cause contractions. We're trying to prevent contractions, so none.” She glances at Andrew. “The orgasm restriction only applies to Amanda, obviously.”
Did he just drop his shoulders in relief?
I nod. “I'll be fine. I understand. The babies are worth it.”
“Of course they are,” Andrew jumps in.
My breathing slows, the band above my pubic bone going taut again, but this time, it's light. A discomfort, but not pain-filled. Dr. Armaji watches me, observant but non-judgmental, as I take three deep, slow breaths.
The tightness fades.
“If the contractions intensify, or come closer together, come right in.”
We nod. She leaves.
I go numb.
Climbing off the exam table is an engineering feat, but Andrew helps me. Each step I take feels like I'm a Marvel movie monster made of stones aligned together to approximate a human form. We make it to the main entrance, and Gerald appears as if conjured by Andrew's telepathy.
He emerges from the black SUV, concern etched into his hardened, scarred face. “Everything okay?”
“For now,” Andrew says tersely.
I stare at the SUV. Lifting my leg high enough to climb in feels like being asked to summit Mount Everest.
“We need a sedan from now on,” I tell him.
“Noted,” Gerald says, frowning. “Should have thought of it. Suzanne's struggling with our SUV, too.”
Andrew says nothing, one strong arm going to my hip as I lift my foot up and leverage my way into the seat. He climbs in after.