Page 137 of When You Blush
That’s our baby.I study the screen and take measurements. Nine weeks. This little one has existed for nine weeks, and we didn’t know.
“It all looks good to me. We’ll watch for bleedingover the next few days, but I’d say that everything is just fine, sugar.”
And now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I take a second to just stare at my girl, the heartbeat still sounding in the room.
“I don’t want you to think I’m trapping you or something stupid like that,” she says softly.
“By all means, trap me.”
Her eyes widen, and then she starts to cry. I clean up from the imaging and pull her against me, kissing her forehead, her temple, and then her lips.
“I’m so sorry.” God, she’s breaking my heart.
“What are you sorry for?” I cup her face and rest my forehead against hers.
“I didn’t mean to get pregnant, and I told you that I had the birth control handled. You trusted me.”
“I still trust you, Harper.”
“You shouldn’t,” she whispers. “Because I fucked up.”
“I want to get you home, and then we can sleep, or talk, or whatever you need.”
“I should go back to work.”
Fuck that.
“Neither of us is going back to work. You’re going to finish that bag of fluids, and I’m going to make some calls. I want you to rest, Harper.”
“Blake, I can handle my own?—”
“Let me.” Cupping her face, I brush my lips over hers and let myself take a moment to soak her in, knowing she’s safe. “Let me handle this for you. I know you’re abadass and as tough as nails, but let me deal with this, okay? You and the bean are mine to take care of, sugar.”
Harper’s shoulders fall, and she nods as she bites that lower lip. “Thank you.”
“Just relax. I’ll be right back.”
Rushing out of the room, I pull my phone out and start making calls, starting with administration. I want to make sure that piece of shit isn’t allowed anywhere near this hospital again.
Within twenty minutes, I have my shift covered, along with Harper’s, and I’m taking the IV out of her arm.
“I’m so freaking tired,” she says, barely holding her eyes open.
“That’s pretty normal, baby. You’re coming off the adrenaline of a scary episode. But I’ve got you.” Helping her to her feet, I keep my arm around her shoulders and lead her out of the ER and out to the parking lot where my car is.
“My purse. My car?—”
“I’ll have someone get it for you.” I press my lips to her head. “Do you want me to carry you?”
“No, I’m going to keep my dignity intact and walk,” she says, making me smile. “But when we get home, you can carry me all you want.”
“Deal.” I keep pace with her, not rushing her as she walks to the vehicle, then help her into the passenger seat.
The ride home is quiet. Harper dozes next to me but wakes up when I pull into the garage. True to her word,she doesn’t put up a fight when I lift her into my arms and carry her inside.
“Bed or couch?” I ask.
“Couch. We need to talk.”
