Page 127 of Devil's Tulip

“What do you think? We’re still working on some renovations inside, but it’s coming along quite quickly and should be ready by the end of next month.” He grins at me, excitement radiating from him, but I can barely muster up awan smile, too overwhelmed by the emotional tsunami of my potential pregnancy.

“It looks good, thanks,” I manage to croak out, my voice thin and distant.

Michael’s smile dims, the light in his eyes fading, but he doesn’t say anything more as we get out of the car. His men fall into step behind us as we make our way through the hospital lobby, past the waiting room, and up the stairs to the OB/GYN department. Nobody stops us or asks questions. They know better.

When we reach the department, Michael knocks on a door with the name Dr. Lana Murdoch etched on a glossy plaque.

A beautiful bronze-skinned woman in her mid-thirties steps out with a polite smile, but there’s unmistakable fear lurking in the depths of her eyes. “Mr. and Mrs. Hart, welcome.” She waves us into her office where one of those hospital beds with stirrups and some weird machines are set up in a corner.

Michael’s men station themselves outside as we go inside, and the doctor, Lana, leads us towards the equipment. Somehow, her nervousness settles some of my own nerves.

I settle onto the examination chair, and she carefully asks for permission to take my blood sample. Her hands are steady now, professional instinct overriding her fear as she works.

“This will just pinch a bit,” she murmurs, and I almost laugh at the absurdity. After getting jabbed in the neck with God knows what, this tiny needle is a damn joke.

I fix my gaze on the ceiling, counting the tiny dots in the acoustic tiles as she draws my blood, barely feeling the sting of the needle as she prods it into my vein.

She’s done quickly and goes to a corner to the machine where she’ll test the blood for pregnancy hormones. Normally, she isn’t supposed to do this in front of the patient, but I guess ours is aspecial case. When you’re married to Michael Hart, normal rules dissolve like sugar in hot coffee.

The room fills with suffocating tension as we wait for Lana to tell us the result. I bite my lip and bounce my knees nervously. Michael taps his expensive shoes against the floor.Click, click, click.A metronome marking the seconds until our fate is revealed.

Finally, Lana takes off her gloves and approaches us with a hesitant smile. “Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”

Michael’s reaction is instantaneous and explosive. He leaps from his chair with a happy whoop that makes the doctor jump, clapping his hands enthusiastically. “Did you hear that, Gianna? We’re going to be parents.” He rushes towards me to grab my hands, and his excitement is so contagious, I find myself smiling back, the tiny seed of hope blooming into something more.

“Would you like to see your baby?” Lana asks, and Michael’s head snaps towards her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“We can do that so early?” he asks, genuine surprise coloring his voice. She nods, and Michael looks at me, waiting for my answer.

“I suppose that wouldn’t be too bad,” I answer, and Lana starts setting up the ultrasound equipment. I already know about the process from my nursing education, but she walks me through it anyway, her voice soothing and reassuring.

Since the pregnancy is still in its early stages—just the fourth week—we can only see the baby through the transvaginal ultrasound. I take off my pants and lie back, my heart thundering as she carefully inserts the transducer into my vagina.

The monitor next to my bed flickers to life with grainy images of a tiny blob of tissues, barely distinguishable from the surrounding darkness. But it’s there. It’s real.My baby.Atsunami of emotions surges through my veins as I watch the black and white image, my eyes pricking with tears.

Holy crap, I’m going to be a mother.

The next couple of weeks pass in a surreal blur, with Michael doting on me like it’s his full-time job. He leaves home for work much later than usual and returns shockingly early, never leaving my side except when absolutely necessary. Even though he never comes right out to say he loves me, his constant presence in my day-to-day life makes me feel cherished and loved in ways I never imagined possible.

When the second month rolls around, I realize I’m nowhere near ready for my license test, so I push it back another month. Half of that is Michael’s fault, distracting me with sex when I’m supposed to be studying. So I end up finally booting him out the house one morning, telling him to go back to his usual routine instead of hovering over me like a horny shadow. He sulks but agrees—though his absence doesn’t do a damn thing to ease my distraction.

And God, to make it worse, hitting the middle of my second trimester brings on a wave of horniness. It’s ridiculous. I always want to have sex, and seemingly mundane things—the way sunlight hits the kitchen counter, the smell of fresh coffee, even the damn weather report—make me think of Michael, and I waste precious time daydreaming about him and us together.

Finally, it’s D-day. The day of my test.

Michael drives me to the exam center with a few of his men, fully intent on waiting for me outside.

“No way,” I protest, shaking my head firmly. “I won’t be able to focus if I know all I have to do is submit my test to see you again.”

His eyes kindle with amusement, his lips curling up in a pleased smile that makes my knees weak. He does that a lot now—smiling, laughing, playing around with me. God, I love that I’m able to draw that side of him out.

“Call me as soon as you’re done, and I’ll come right over,” he grudgingly concedes, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to my lips, his hand curling down to my belly to palm the little bump there.

“Nuh, huh. That’s too much pressure, baby. I’ll start to panic that I’m taking too long to call you. How about I call you as soon as I’m at home?”

His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to argue, but I quickly continue. “I need to pass this test, Michael. You know that.” My hospital’s renovation was completed a few weeks ago, but I haven’t been able to go to work because of my lack of license.

“Fine. I’ll take it as a compliment that I distract you so much,” he teases and rubs my belly. “Our little one will be good for you today as well; she can sense today’s an important day.”

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