“I don’t like when he calls you sweetheart. Especially when he came this close to marrying you in a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill,” Pat said as he leaned against the doorway watching her.
He’d removed his lab coat, and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to the elbows. She reached for a canister of cleaning wipes and began sanitizing the waiting room chairs, making sure he had a decent view of her backside every time she bent down.
“Yes…” he groaned. “Disinfect those dirty chairs.”
She giggled, squatting low in her dress to straighten the magazines. “Whatever does it for you.”
“You do it for me.”
She rolled her eyes and shut off the television. Emptying the trash can, she carried the bag to the back and washed her hands.
“Don’t forget, tomorrow Mrs. Westby is coming in for her physical. She likes to get here early, so make sure you’re here at eight on the dot.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And your Aunt Col wants you to look at a mole on her back.”
“Did she make an appointment?”
She gave him a skeptical glance. “Your aunts never make appointments.”
“You have to tell them that’s how this works.”
“I’ve tried. They just say they’ll swing by when they can.”
“You let them get away with that because they bring you cookies.”
She turned and rested a hand on her protruding belly. “Are you implying something about my weight?”
Her ring glinted against the fabric, and he closed the distance, resting a hand directly over hers. “Only that I love the shape of you.”
“Good.” She kissed his nose. “Tonight, I’m craving extra spicy Thai and a mint chocolate chip shake.”
“Two steps ahead of you. I bought mint chocolate chip ice cream yesterday at the store.”
She flipped off the light. “That’s why I love you.”
Together they walked up the stairs to their apartment and stripped out of their work clothes. He followed her into the shower and took his time covering her body in suds and kisses.
“How are you feeling today?”
She’d been having some early contractions that morning. “Better. I think it’ll be soon.”
“Sheilagh said to give her a call as soon as you’re ready to start your leave. She’s ready to cover for you.” His touch turned clinical, and she rolled her eyes.
“I prefer when you don’t examine me in the shower, Dr. Clooney.”
“Just checking.”
“You know, sex is supposed to speed things along.” She struggled to see how anyone could find her attractive in this state, but Pat seemed to have no problem there.
He shut off the water and handed her a towel. “Careful.” Taking her arm so she didn’t slip, he led her to the bedroom. “Now, let’s see if we can speed this along.”
They made love and she saw no point in getting dressed. When the Thai food arrived, Pat brought it to her in bed. They ate and talked about their day, then he made her the perfect milkshake for dessert.
Cocooned in his arms and a sense of peace, she reveled in a safe feeling of happiness. Her new life seemed pretty perfect.
She was just drifting to sleep when a sharp kick woke her and she sucked in an audible breath.
Pat met her stare with a look of concern. “Did you feel something?”
She massaged her side and frowned. “I’m not sure if it’s the Thai or a contract—ah! Definitely a contraction.”
He checked the time, and forty minutes later they were calling the midwife. Pat had prepared for this moment. He had one of the patient rooms arranged with perinatal equipment, calming music, but he, himself, had way too much excitement to watch her pass a human through her most tender parts.
Thank goodness for his training and natural calm, because once those contractions formed a pattern, she was a hot, screaming mess. The midwife was cool and collected, focused completely on her comfort, which there wasn’t much of. After several hours of laborious breathing and pushing, their daughter had finally arrived.
She was beautiful, with a swirl of golden hair and a perfect little nose. Julie cradled her in her arms and shivered, her hair damp with sweat and her eyes full of tears.
“You were amazing,” Pat whispered, staring down at Julie and touching the baby’s tiny fingers. “She’s gorgeous, like her mother.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “She’s ours.”
She’d waited until her second trimester to tell Lance about the pregnancy. By that time, he’d already moved on and was dating someone else. Lance showed little interest in the baby, and Pat had researched the adoption process. The papers were prepared and Pat planned to have them sent to Lance this morning. By the time they signed the birth certificate, her daughter would be fully theirs.
“Do you have a name?” the midwife asked.
“Fiona Clooney,” she said, smiling. She’d be a Clooney before Julie, but that was fine. In two months, Julie would become Mrs. Patrick Clooney for the rest of her life.