Page 63 of Between Our Hearts

It wasn’t, but she couldn’t deny that working—truly working—on their relationship had strengthened the connection she had with her husband. Sadie didn’t think it was possible, but she felt more in line with Clark that she’d even been before. They still shared that undeniable physical attraction and mutual respect, but now they also shared the dark and sticky corners of their hearts. Most of the time, it was downright terrifying, but afterwards they were stitched together more tightly than before, making each hard step inarguably worth it.

Other relationships had also improved once she’d learned to open her mouth and let out what she was thinking and feeling. She and Parker had started spending about half of their time on their nights out actually discussing their lives instead of just talking about the best cases from the week. And with Tara and Clark’s support, Sadie was able to set some much-needed boundaries with her mother. They still spoke, but Penelope understood that if she was in the mood to cut Sadie down, their call could come to a brisk end.

A dinging resonated in the small space a second before the elevator doors opened. “No,” she conceded. “But you are, so it’s worth it.”

Clark smirked as they walked down the carpeted hallway. “Don’t lie to me, love. We all know surgery is your favorite thing.”

“You’re tied for first,” she said, before amending that statement. “Actually, if you want honesty, it’s a three-way tie with Lottie.”

Her husband brought her knuckles to his smiling lips for a quick kiss while she pushed through the glass door to their therapist’s office.

???

Two hours later, they were wrapped up in each other’s arms on top of their bed. Clark dreamily ran his hand down her spine as he watched the birds swoop from tree to tree through the windows to the backyard.

“Do you think they’ll notice if I come back for the rest of my appointments wearing different pants?”

Her husband’s breathless laugh bounced her head. “I had no idea zippers could be so delicate.”

A smile stretched her lips as she looked up. “You were acting like we hadn’t seen each other naked in weeks instead of less than twenty-four hours.”

He let out a playful, dismissive noise before he rolled on top of her, his arms bracketing her head. “That didn’t count. I was half asleep when you woke me up after your call shift last night.” His kisses rained over her ear, trailing down her throat. A halting breath dragged into her chest as one of his hands slithered down her side. “Besides, I can’t see that flush of yours when it’s dark.”

In a fraction of a second, everything went from feeling so blissfully perfect to seven directions of wrong. The achiness she’d been fighting since yesterday doubled down in her back muscles as fatigue swept through her. She’d ordered an extra shot in her Red Eye at the cafe this morning to counteract the bone-sucking lethargy that had seemed to haunt her for the last few days, but now it was back, full force.

Clark immediately registered the swift change. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted.”

The corner of Clark’s mouth lifted as sympathy and adoration flooded his eyes. “You didn’t get much sleep last night, and we missed lunch. Why don’t you get dressed for the rest of your afternoon appointments? I’ll make us something to eat.”

“Would you pour me a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

Clark’s laugh washed over her body. “Sure, love.” He kissed her shoulder and then climbed off the bed.

While her husband made himself a sandwich in the kitchen, Sadie retied her very disheveled ponytail and found a pair of grey slacks to replace her damaged ones. Sudden nausea rolled through her like a wave tumbling to the shore, and her head snapped up. A very pale, wide-eyed version of herself looked back at her in the bathroom mirror.

I can’t be.

Opening the cabinet beneath her sink, she found the two purple boxes in the same place they’d been for months.

Somehow, she made it down the stairs even though it felt like all her bones had been replaced with a slightly gelatinous substance. Her hands were trembling, specifically the one that clenched the hard plastic.

Midday sun streamed through the kitchen windows and bounced off Clark’s bare shoulders as he whistled, piling various deli meats onto wheat bread. This odd déjà vu overwhelmed her—Clark whistling, in the kitchen, jeans slung low on his trim hips.

“I’m pregnant.”

Mustard squirted all over his bread and made a haphazard line on the counter before her husband’s fist released the yellow bottle. “What?”

“I’m pregnant.” She lifted her shaking palm, showing him the deep-indigo cross.

Clark stood frozen. “But I wore a condom every time.”

“Yeah, I know . . . but—” She took a deep inhale as her heart tried to reach the upper limits of tachycardia. “No form of birth control is ever one-hundred percent effective.”

Weighted knowledge hovered between them, remembering how Lottie had been conceived.

Clark broke the tension with this jubilant half-laugh/half-shout. He rushed to her, his hands framing her waist before he hesitated. “Will it hurt you if I pick you up?”

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