Page 127 of Scarlet Promise
“That I’m in great health, and they’re waiting on final blood results, and then I can go home.”
“With us?” Isla asks.
“With you.”
She looks about. “Where’s your man?”
“Being a badass with my brother,” I say. “He said they’d be done soon. And thank you both so much. And thank you, Albert. I was going crazy.”
Isla laughs. “How long have you been in here?”
“Too long,” I say.
Erin sits on the bed next to me, and Isla takes the foot. I’m pretty sure Albert thinks this is heaven.
“Since she got admitted and Demyan called me, it’s only been a few hours,” Erin says, scratching behind Albert’s ears. “And you’re insane thinking it’s too long. Remember what Demyan was like? I was either made to go to bed, carted around by him like I was suddenly made of bone china, and treated like an invalid. If he’d been able to convince me to live in that wheelchair he got Ilya, he’d have done so.”
Isla nods. “Remember with Maize, Alina? I was put on medical bed rest for the last two months of my pregnancy.”
“I don’t know. I think forced bed rest by Ilya and Demyan might be worse. There are two of them.” I glance at the door. “The doctor recommended more bed rest, but?—”
“Don’t tell them unless it’s medically necessary. Is it?”
“Nope,” I say to Erin.
“Then don’t. I only had to deal with Demyan.” Erin laughs. “As much as I adore Ilya and love how he’s the softer version of Demyan, he’s just as stubborn and protective. He took a beating for you.”
“I know.” I look at Isla and groan. “I don’t think I could handle being forced to stay in bed for two months.”
She shrugs. “If you don’t have a choice, then you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, you know?”
And it hits me then. I get it.
There’s a difference between an overprotective man and having to do it, actually literally obey staying in bed for two months.
And it’s more than that. If it wasn’t an overbearing order, if it was needed I would.
I one hundred percent know I’d do anything I had to do so I would have a healthy, perfect baby. Even if that means sitting on my ass starting today.
Someone rattles the door handle.
“Albert, bag, now,” I say, pointing.
He jumps up and into the bag, only his snout sticking out, which makes Isla dissolve into laughter.
The door opens, and a good-looking orderly in his twenties comes in with a wheelchair.
“Mrs. Belov, I’m here to take you for your ultrasound.”
I frown. “There must be a mistake. I’m waiting on blood test results.”
“I don’t know about those,” he says. “I just do what I’m told, and you’re scheduled for an ultrasound.”
It seems a little early, but doctors can peer at all stages. Excitement suddenly fills me at the idea of the first glimpse of my dividing cells.
“Can we wait until my husband comes back? He won’t be long, and he’d love to see our baby for the first time.”
“I’m sorry, but we’re booked up through tomorrow afternoon. You don’t have to look, but we need to check on everything.”
