Shopping for a CEO's Baby (Shopping for a Billionaire Series Book 16), стр. 47
Tears fall, fast, silent, and uncontrolled.
Andrew's arm is around me as Gerald pulls away from the neon glow of the hospital sign. My belly is loose.
But my heart is tight with fear.
“This is all my fault,” Andrew whispers, his tone making my eyes fly open.
“What?”
Gerald turns up the radio in the front seat, clearly signaling he's trying to give us privacy.
“I... I made a pass at you. Initiated sex. And that clearly triggered the labor.” His jaw is tight, hand in a fist as he punches his right thigh. “I won't be so selfish again.”
“Andrew.”
“It's different now. I can't just assume that if I want something, I can find a way to get it.”
“Andrew.”
“If I hadn't reached out for you, if we hadn't done that position, if I–”
My fingers fly to cover his mouth. His chin is scratchy from not shaving.
“Stop. You did nothing wrong. We didn’t know.” My whisper is low, too, lips against the curve of his ear.
“I'm a fool.”
“Maybe. But not because of this.” I smile.
“And now I'm making this all about me when it should be all about you.” His hand goes to my belly. “And them.”
“We're fine.” I swallow hard. “Or, at least, we will be.”
Andrew looks down at his crotch. “You are dead last in terms of priorities now,” he chides.
“What? No! You can still orgasm.”
“That's not a priority.”
“Since when?”
“Since three hours ago when you woke me up in bed and told me something was wrong and you and the babies were in danger,” he says softly.
I can't breathe.
“Are in danger,” he adds, squeezing my hand. “I'm not putting anything–not Anterdec, not my body, not my libido–nothing–at a higher priority than you and our babies.”
I want to argue, counter his words with something that takes the urgency away, that soothes the burden of terror I share with him. I hate being the center of attention like this, and knowing he's so deeply affected makes this all feel even bigger.
Andrew tends to underreact because he has a big-picture perspective of life that comes from a place of deep certainty.
In every way but the safety of people he deeply loves. Losing his mother to a random, freak event he had no control over is something he's had to overcome,
He has.
But I can feel how shaken that foundation is right now.
And I hate it.
“Drink,” he urges, handing me yet another water bottle. The cool, sweet water tastes good, and my bladder twinges. By the time we get home, I won't make it upstairs to our bathroom. I'll have to use the downstairs powder room.
Stairs.
My heart sinks. “The discharge directions say no stairs.”
“Then we can sleep in the guest room on the first floor.” He sighs. “Or you can sleep there alone, if you prefer.”
“Why would I prefer that?”
“Because...” His Adam's apple jumps with emotion, but he says nothing more.
“You'll sleep with me,” I say firmly. “And we'll use the guest bedroom. We're doing this together, Andrew. Together. I won't let you pull away from me now. I need you more than ever.”
“You don't need my morning wood poking your ass.”
“I sure do! It's how I know you didn't die in your sleep.”
Surprised laughter fills my ear. “What?”
“Every morning, as I slowly emerge from the haze of sleep, one of two things tells me you're awake. If you're spooning with me, it's the wood tapping at my ass. If not, it's the tent in the sheet.”
“My steady breath doesn't provide adequate proof of life?”
“It's not as amusing. Or as predictable.”
“Why are we talking about my penis so much, Amanda? I'm trying not to make it the center of attention, but you're making it hard.”
At his phrasing, my lips twitch.
He groans.
I squeeze his hand. “I need this. Being silly. Playful. Goofy. The serious part of it all is a given, Andrew. Of course, I'll go on full bed rest. Of course, you'll do whatever you can to make life safe for me and the babies. Of course, we'll both do the responsible thing. I married you because you're the full package–smart, sexy, and most of all–a grown-up. Mature and always ready to do what needs to be done so that everyone you love is taken care of.”
“You think that of me?”
“I know that of you.”
He nods slowly, methodically. “We're in this together. Forever.”
“Right. Together. So if I'm on bed rest, we're binge watching all those series we've been ignoring. Together.”
“Oh, hell.”
I give him an evil grin. “That's right! I get to pick everything we watch.”
“Not the baking show. It's like Ambien.”
“Then get ready to fall asleep to British accents and have cream filling dreams.”
He kisses my temple. “As you wish.”
16
Amanda
The door shuts and I find myself alone.
Completely alone for the first time in two days.
For the last twenty-nine hours, Andrew hasn't left my side. We've binge watched all the baking shows I wanted to see, a round-the-world motorcycle show from the early 2000s, and a documentary series about a cult.
Andrew's begging for fiction, so Outlander's next.
But right now, he's at the office, tormenting Gina, and it's my turn to get work settled. “Clear the decks” is a horrible phrase for someone who prides herself on fixing problems, because it means I'm the problem. The stuff on my plate can't be there any more.
I have to transfer it to someone else.
So my notepad has a long list of tasks, starting with number one:
Call Carol.
Except... she beats me to it.
Carol's name pops up on the screen as my cell rings. I answer.
“Amanda! Shannon called and told me. Are you okay? What's happening?”
“Early labor. I'm fine. On bed rest, though.” I cross her name off my list. “And it means I need to make some big changes.”
“Right. Legs elevated, drink lots of water, no sex–” She gasps. “Poor Andrew.”
“Poor me,” I mutter.
Giggly, girlish laughter pours through my phone. “Okay. Let's change the topic. Back