Page 20 of Beneath His Vow
I kiss over where our child sleeps, then I lock my gaze on her. “If something was wrong.”
There’s a slight twitch around her eyes, barely perceptible, probably not noticeable to anyone else, but I know Lexi. Know her down to her bones.
Her fingers slide into my hair, more gentle than I have any right to expect. She looks like a fucking dream the way she’s laid out like this, belly gently curving, the softness of her hips begging to be grabbed.
“I’m okay, Casey.”
I stare at her, as if that can drag the truth out of her. “Is it the baby?” I press.
Her breath comes out in a rush as she sits up. I like this position better. It makes her belly look bigger than it is, and usually my hand would latch onto her bump, but my concern overrides my need to touch her right now.
“No, Casey. No. The baby’s fine. I’m fine.” She pushes her hair back from her face, every inch of her tense in a way that sets off all my internal fucking warning lights. “It’s just work. I told you. Things are busy and?—”
“That asshole still giving you a hard time?”
There it is again—that twitch. Her hand drops to her stomach. “Everyone is under a lot of stress right now. End of month reports, some big clients in the wings—it’s taking a toll,that’s all.” She gets out of bed, like she needs space. From me. And I don’t fucking like that at all. I watch every flicker as she moves to the dresser, pulling it open. “The reports will be done by the end of the month and then things will calm down.”
She’s lying.
Why?
I slide off the bed, stepping in behind her as she fixes her panties in place. My hands instantly slide around her stomach, holding her against my chest. She interlaces her fingers with mine, holding me tight, like she’s afraid to let go.
“You’re stressed, quiet, tired, and not just from the pregnancy.”
She turns in my arms and wraps herself around me like she’s afraid I’ll vanish. I engulf her with arms, like I can stop her slipping away from me.Is she slipping?
“I like my job, Casey. I don’t want to leave it.”
The weight in her words is heavy. I grind my teeth. Every instinct I have is screaming to get her out of that place. Something happens to my wife when she walks through those doors, when she leaves me.
I lift her chin, my thumb and finger light against her skin. “I don’t like you being stressed. You’re pregnant.”
Her eyes soften just a fraction, and then she sighs. “Pregnant, not breakable, but I love you for worrying.”
She rolls to her toes, pressing her mouth to mine. I don’t hesitate. I never do with her. I kiss her like she’s my air, like there is no world in which I exist without her, because there is not. She’s everything to me, and I want to erase whatever is sucking her joy.
“I’m worried about you,” I admit.
Her hands rest on my chest. “You don’t need to be. I’m handling things.”
The way she says that flicks a switch in my brain. I pull back slightly, staring down at her, my heart thudding. “What exactly are you handling?”
She blows out a breath. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Her words are tired, scraped as thin as she seems to be. “I just mean I’m trying so hard to balance everything right now while my body fights me every step of the way.” Her smile floors me. “Apparently I’m supposed to glow any day now.” Her smile is genuine, but brittle. “Second trimester perks.”
“You are glowing. You’re fucking beautiful, babe. Even tired. Even stressed, you’re still perfection.”
“Now I know you’re lying.” But I’m not. I love every side of her, even the messy ones. She leans her head to my chest, her hands gripping my hips as she lets out a suffering groan. “I need to get ready. I love you. Please don’t worry about me.”
“Impossible.”
I take her to work in my truck, my gaze cutting between her and the road. The closer we get to her building the tighter her shoulders become.
When I stop the truck at the curb, I almost shove it back into drive and take her away again, but she’s already reaching for the door before I can do anything.
I get out with her, walking to her side of the car. There’s no sign of any discomfort or unease, so I thread my fingers through her hair, already a heartbeat from grabbing a can of gasoline and a box of matches to make sure she can’t come back here.
“Try to be good today.” She smiles as she says it.
