Page 115 of Seven of Hearts

Logan’s smile reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “I wish I was there with you. Now, stop stalling and test your blood sugar.”

“Logan . . .” I whined.

“Baby, I’m already worried sick because I’m not there with you. Test while I’m on the phone that way I can call one of my siblings if you need help.”

I grumbled as I unzipped the testing kit, because I knew there was no use in arguing with him. If I stalled any longer, he’d call Kylie and Kristin to come over and physically restrain me while one of them did it for me.

“You can do it.” His voice was calm and reassuring.

I managed to load the lancet, and only felt mildly nauseous at the thought of the droplets of blood beading on my finger. The alcohol swab was unsettlingly cold. Every sensation was heightened without him here. Without his shoulder for me to lean my head on. Without his calm reassurance that it was okay to be scared of things.

“Press it to your finger and look at me,” Logan said. “Tell me everything you want to eat as soon as the baby’s born.”

I laughed. “I want the largest sub you can find. I don’t even like cold cuts, but there’s something about not being allowed to eat them for nine months that makes me want a giant, mayonnaise-y turkey sandwich.”

He grinned. “Prick your finger. Do you just want the sandwich or do you want the chips and cookie combo?”

I hesitated.

“Come on. You can do it,” he said. “Press it and tell me what your favorite flavors are and I’ll make sure to have them all there. Are you a salt and vinegar girl?”

“God no,” I groaned as I pricked my finger. “Salt and vinegar chips are for masochists and psychopaths.”

“Did you do it?”

I nodded.

“Good girl. Squeeze your finger if there’s not enough blood to fill the test strip. Think about the cookie. What kind of cookie do you want?”

The room started to spin as my blood was soaked up into the test strip. I set the glucose meter on the table and rested my head beside it as I pressed a tissue to my finger and waited for the result.

“All of them. Chocolate chip. Double chocolate. Oatmeal raisin. White chocolate macadamia.”

Logan groaned. “You like oatmeal raisin cookies? What is wrong with you?”

“Look, if you don’t like oatmeal raisin cookies, you’re either a serial killer or a five-year-old. They’re delicious and I will not stand for the oatmeal cookie slander.”

“How are your numbers?” he asked.

I glanced at the meter. “Fine.”

“Good girl. I’m going to call you first thing in the morning so I can be there when you give yourself the insulin injection.”

Realistically, I knew he probably had things to do and couldn’t stay on the phone with me for forty-eight hours. But a deeper part of me couldn’t stomach the thought of staring at the walls until he came back.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there with you right now,” he said with sincerity weaved into every word. “But I couldn’t push this off any longer. I didn’t want to wait and cut it close to your due date.”

“I know,” I sighed as I packed up the testing supplies. “I’m just going a little stir-crazy. I feel gross, and my moods swing faster than a see-saw.”

Logan chuckled. “If you’re good, I’ll bring you a treat.”

“Are you bribing me?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe,” I glowered.

There was a long pause as tenderness softened his features. “I love you, and I miss you.”

---