Page 164 of Labor of Love

The word is whispered as he gets to his feet and begins pacing back and forth in front of my bookshelves. It’s his classic move when he’s stressed and trying to work out how to handle a situation.

Was telling me upsetting him? I didn’t want that, even if it felt like my heart was being squeezed, bursting open like an over ripened tomato.

“Right, well. Congratulations.” Faking a smile, I slap my hands on my legs like I’m happy for him and he hasn’t just torn out the bottom of my world. What was I going to do without Rowan? He was supposed to be mine.Mate.“I didn’t realize you were dating anyone.”

The soft pink of his cheeks deepens, along with the tips of his ears. Rowan clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m not.”

What? He was a single parent? What had happened to his alpha?

“Who’s the father? Is he going to step up and support you?” I tug at my tie, pulling it loose as I get to my feet. “Is that why you have to quit? We have a generous maternity package here. You can just return when you’re ready.”

“Calm down, Sir.” His soft voice is firm.

I’m spiraling. He knows I’m spiraling.

Of course he does. He’s my assistant, the person who’s been by my side for the last two years. He knows me almost better than I know myself.

“Gideon,” I sigh. When he calls me Sir, it’s him drawing those lines between us, gouging them deeper into the sand. I hate it. “Call me Gideon.”

He blushes, looking down at his feet. “Gideon. I know this is a lot to process, but I promise that my leaving will not have a negative impact on the business.”

“Negative impact. Business. Right.” The little idiot thinks I’m worried about the business.

“My personal life will not affect my work.” Rowan grins, as if he’s not just delivered the worst news, but I can read the hesitation behind his words. “You’ll see.”

Almost three weeks later, everything has changed. There’s a small beta man with beady eyes sharing Rowan’s desk outside my office. He smiles when I arrive at the office in the morning, offers me my coffee and runs through what I have booked in for the day. The problem is, he’s not Rowan.

And his coffee tastes like shit.

Rowan tells me it’s in my head, but what does he know? He can’t drink the coffee because of the baby.

Baby.

It seems like his belly has popped out further in the last couple of weeks, either that or he’s just stopped trying to hide his condition. Today he’s forgone his usual bow tie and shirt for a pale blue button up blouse that cinches in just above his belly with a narrow tie belt. It’s paired with what looks a little like yoga pants. The entire outfit is adorable, and the urge to grabhim and coddle him to my chest is something I struggle with daily. Especially now that his scent is growing stronger, sweeter, making my mouth water every time we’re in the same room. There are undertones of something familiar, but it’s not strong enough to pick out yet.

There’s a knock on my door before Rowan steps inside. “I’m just about to pop out for my prenatal appointment.”

He’s wearing his coat, and his satchel is slung over one shoulder as he wraps his scarf around his neck. He looks a little tired today, with dark circles under his eyes. “I won’t be long.”

Placing my pen down and removing my glasses, I watch him carefully. “Isn’t the baby’s father going with you?”

He still hasn’t mentioned the baby’s father and I’m beginning to think there’s no alpha lover on the scene. Something about that gnaws at me, scratching away at the back of my mind. Rowan isn’t the type to have a fling. What we had was the exception. He wasn’t reckless like that.

There’s also something off about the pheromones. The scent that clings to his skin has changed. But it’s still familiar. I just can’t quite place it…

“No. It’s just me.” He swallows, blushing, the tips of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink. “The father…doesn’t know. So, it’s just me.”

“Well then, let me grab my coat.” Pushing to my feet, I quickly log out of my computer and buzz for my driver.

“What?”

“You’re not going alone, and you’re not going to get a cab during lunch. And Goddess knows I’m not letting you sit on a bus in your condition.” Pulling on my coat, I chuckle at his open-mouthed expression. Was I crossing a line? Perhaps. But this man was mine…in another life. “We’ll take my car.”

“I’m pregnant, not sick.” Rolling his eyes, I get a glimpse of the old Rowan. The sassy one who had never been afraid to giveme a little attitude or bite back. That one night had taken that from me, and now, with the baby, it was like that version of him was even further away.

I’m expecting him to resist, to tell me it’s not my place, but instead he rubs his temples. “Come on then, I won’t have you making us late.”

The pregnancy must be taking its toll on him if he was letting me see this side of him. That or he wasn’t keen on public transport, either.

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