And every night I lie in bed knowing she's just down the hall, remembering what it felt like to wake up with her naked in my arms in Vegas.
It's torture. Straight up torture.
I pull out my phone, checking the reminders I've set. Her prenatal vitamins. Her favorite protein bars for when she forgets to eat lunch. The shopping list for things she'll need soon. Stuff I never would’ve looked twice at before. Maternity clothes, body pillows, the fancy lotion Reed recommended for preventing stretch marks.
This is my life now. Planning for a baby with a woman I'm technically married to but can't touch. A woman who’s determined to keep me at arm’s length despite the way I catch her looking at me sometimes.
A woman I want a lot more from than just co-parenting.
That's a problem for another day. Right now, I need to focus on the appointment. On seeing our baby. On not making a complete ass of myself in front of Reed again, since he’s already laughing at me on a daily basis because of my constant texts.
By the time Wren steps out of her room, dressed in jeans that look uncomfortably tight around her growing belly and one of my flannels, I've got the truck warmed up and my game face on.
"Ready?" she asks, grabbing her purse.
Not even a little bit.
Reed's office is exactly as sterile and medical as the last time we were here, but this time there's something different. There are more people in the waiting room, for one. And most of them are staring at us.
Or more specifically, at Wren's pink hair and nose ring and my tattoos.
"Everyone's staring," Wren mutters as we sign in at the reception desk.
"Let them," I say, fighting the urge to put my arm around her to shield her from all these assholes and the judgmental looks. Instead, I settle for glaring back at an older couple who are whispering behind their hands. They immediately find the carpet fascinating.
"Relax, Beanie Boy," Wren says, nudging me with her elbow as we take seats in the corner. "We're not exactly a normal-looking couple."
The word 'couple' from her lips fucks me up and I do everything I can to hide my reaction from her. Hearing her acknowledge us as something together, even accidentally, feels like winning something.
Even though I doubt she meant it the way I want her to.
"Wren Callan?" a nurse calls, and we both stand.
The exam room is the same one from before. Same posters of female anatomy that I pointedly avoid looking at. Same stirrups that I'd rather not think about Reed using on my?—
No. Not going there.
Wren changes into a gown, and I try not to notice how much more her stomach has grown since the last appointment. She catches me looking anyway.
"What?" she asks, suddenly self-conscious. "Is it that obvious?"
"What?"
"The belly." She smooths a hand over it. "I had to use a hair tie to keep my jeans closed this morning."
"It's..."Beautiful. Perfect. Proof that part of me is growing inside you."It's not that noticeable."
She snorts. "Liar. Kieran asked if I was sure it wasn't twins yesterday."
My teeth grind at the mention of her very jacked, very straight assistant. Before I can respond, Reed knocks and walks in, grinning at us.
"Hey," he greets us, glancing between us as the shit-eating grin on his face only grows. I flip him off where Wren can’t see and he laughs.
"How's my favorite patient today? And you too, I guess, Kase."
"Hilarious," I mutter.
"I got three texts from him this morning alone," Reed tells Wren, completely ignoring me. "Did you know he's tracking your vitamin intake on a spreadsheet?"
