Page 101 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
Something about his presence lulled her to sleep every night. It was like her body knew, even if her heart still hesitated, that he would catch her if she fell.
It had been a week since the hospital.
Even though everything had seemed alright, the fear hadn't left either of them.
Crispin had been more watchful.
He'd taken to waking early, often pacing the shingle shore before sunrise, phone pressed to his ear as he tried to manage the London office from a place that had more sheep than signal. He didn't complain, but Aria could see the tension collecting in his shoulders, the fatigue in his eyes.
They hadn't spoken about it, like not mentioning it would ensure it wouldn't happen again. But she knew he hadn't really slept, not since that night.
And truth be told, neither had she.
The spotting had stopped almost immediately, and thankfully, the nausea was now manageable. But she still woke at odd hours, hand pressed protectively to her belly, listening to the wind howling through the walls and wondering what they would do if something did go wrong. The hospital was more than an hour away on a clear road, more if the weather turned. The staff had been kind, but the place was stretched thin. Every seat in the A&E had been full. Every nurse and doctor had worn the ghost of exhaustion in their eyes.
She had felt small there. She didn't feel they had the resources to help her if something went wrong.
So, when Crispin came back from his morning walk, fog still drifting across the hills, paper bag in hand, she looked up at him warily from the sofa, curled in her buttercup-yellow dress and cardigan.
There was a kind of gleam in his eyes, purposeful and very nervous. "I've been thinking," he said, setting the bag down on the table.
"Dangerous," she replied softly.
He smiled.
"Would you consider coming back with me to London?"
She straightened. "London?"
He nodded. "I've bought a house. The apartment felt...cramped, not suitable for the baby. And this place" –he gestured vaguely at the view outside the window- "is in the middle of nowhere. Beautiful, but too far from the hospital. If something happens again...we need to be ready. We need quick access to help."
Her mouth opened, but he raised a hand before she could argue. "Let me finish. I am only asking. Lule's job is taking off, so it's not fair to rely on her. And I refuse to hire someone to look after you and the baby when it'smybaby. Not because I can't, but because I would like to be there for you."
His voice was calm but determined. "You can quilt, rest, and quilt again. I'll take care of everything else."
He hesitated. "And if, in the end, you decide you can't stand me...I'll move out."
His words were vulnerable now. "But can we try? Live like a couple, for real? Just until the baby is born? Like a trial of sorts?"
Aria didn't answer right away. Her brain was already cataloguing arguments. She didn't like being backed into corners.
And yet...
She had been thinking the same thing. The drive to the hospital; the what-ifs that had grown teeth in the quiet hours of night while they waited.
She studied him.
She noticed how careful he was with his words, as if she were a skittish foal. How gently he moved these days. How he always checked her tea was the right temperature, how he tucked the quilt around her when he thought she was asleep.
He was still Crispin, still infuriating, still annoying. But he also thoughtful, considerate. And putting her first.
This version of him? She didn't entirely hate it.
Before she could answer, he shifted forward slowly until he was kneeling between her legs, placing both hands gently over her belly.
"You look beautiful," he murmured. His eyes trailed from the flush of her cheeks to the braids wrapped around her crown.
"And the house...it's in your name," he added. "I would do anything to win a piece of your heart...even tattoo your name on my forehead."
