by K. S. Ruff
He glanced at us.
I smiled. “Bosco it is then.”
* * * * *
“I swear that dog is trying to kill you,” Jase grumbled.
“He’s not. He just doesn’t know which way to walk.” I stepped out of the tangled mess, shortened the lead, and locked the retractable leash. Jase and I resumed walking. “Did you get a chance to see the house before you left?”
Jase nodded. “They’re putting the finishing touches on the theater room now. The theater lighting is really cool.”
I pulled Bosco a little closer so he wouldn’t trip the other pedestrians. “What about the front of the house?”
“You’d never know there were two separate entrances,” Jase assured me. “Did you know he knocked out the wall separating the two garages, so you can access all of the cars from either side of your house?”
I shook my head. “He adds something new every week.”
Jase’s arm rose protectively before we crossed the street. “The dining room looks great. I like the tables you picked out.” We’d ordered two square counter height tables in espresso.
Bosco clambered over the curb.
I laughed when he began prancing in front of us. “I hope sixteen chairs are enough.”
Jase walked to a nearby tree. “You’ve still got the table in your sunroom if it’s not.”
We stopped and waited for Bosco to pee. I wondered how his paws were fairing on the tiny mosaic tiles. “Do you think they’ll finish by the time we return next month?”
Jase nodded. “I heard the investigation is drawing to an end.”
“Thank God. I hope they got everyone.” We started walking back toward the flat. A five pound puppy with four inch legs didn’t have to walk far.
Jase slowed. “Do you mind if we stop at the bakery?”
We waited for a couple of cars to pass before crossing the street. “I don’t mind, as long as you order two extra croquettes and natas for me.”
“I think you should order the food while I sit outside with Bosco. I don’t want you waiting outside by yourself,” Jase stated apologetically.
I handed him the leash. “What would you like?”
He grinned. “Croquettes and natas, only twice as many as you.”
I knelt down and mussed the hair on Bosco’s head. “Would you like some bica?”
Jase helped me up before pulling a metal chair out with his foot. “Bica sounds great.”
I rubbed my tummy, recalling how active the baby was after the bica last night. I would have enjoyed a repeat performance but thought it best I order juice.
I stepped inside the warm, fragrant bakery. I ordered a mix of lamb and veal croquettes and a dozen natas so we could share some with the doorman and Rafael when he returned home from work. I almost forgot the bica and the orange juice. Pregnancy brain, I thought.
The man handed me a small cookie. “Para o seu cachorro.” He pointed out the window.
I turned toward the window. “For my dog?”
He smiled. “Sim. For your little puppy.”
“Obrigada,” I replied with a smile.
He set the drinks and pastry bags on the counter. “Você é bem-vindo.”
I gathered the bags and drinks and joined Jase outside. “I don’t know if this is a dog treat or a real cookie, but the gentleman who waited on me wanted Bosco to have it.”
Jase pulled a chair out for me. “Would you like me to taste it?”
My jaw dropped. “You would do that?”
Jase shrugged. “If it came from this bakery, how bad could it be? Besides, I’ve eaten far worse things.”
I sniffed the biscuit before handing it to Bosco. “Why don’t we let Bosco be the judge?”
Bosco gobbled it up.
I twisted the lid off my orange juice.
Jase sipped his bica. “You seem so happy and relaxed here. Are you sure you want to go back?”
I glanced at him in surprise. “I think I could be happy anywhere, as long as I’m with Rafael. I’m relaxed because school is behind me. Maxim has been elected, I’m not working, and I’m getting plenty of sleep.”
He looked thoughtful. “Do you miss work?”
“A little,” I admitted, “but it seems pointless to return when I have to ask for maternity leave in a few months.”
Jase dropped a Euro on the table after finishing his bica. “You and Rafael have been through a lot. Still, you’re two of the kindest people I know. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve some time off from work.”
“Thanks, Jase.” Bosco was nodding off. I eased onto the sidewalk, snapped a photograph, and scooped him up. His paws rested on my tummy while I cradled him against my chest.
Bosco was quite the surprise, but I couldn’t deny he felt right.
* * * * *
“Should I be worried that you’re fondling my pregnant wife?” Rafael planted his feet against the floor. The door closed behind him.
I ignored his gruff tone and waved him over. “Come here!”
Jase held Bosco over my tummy.
Rafael sat on the other side of me.
“Watch,” I whispered.
Jase balanced Bosco on my belly. He slowly removed his hands.
Bosco bounced as the baby attempted to kick him off.
Rafael laughed a deep, hearty laugh.
I grinned.
He lifted Bosco from my tummy and kissed the top of his head. “Poor dog. Is our baby picking on you?”
“He doesn’t like anyone touching her belly,” Jase insisted. “You try.”
Rafael passed Bosco to Jase before resting his hand on my tummy.
The baby kicked hard enough to move Rafael’s hand.
His eyes widened. “That’s a really strong kick.”
“I know.” My hand joined his.
Jase retrieved Bosco’s leash. “I’m taking Bosco for a thirty minute walk so the two of you can do whatever it is that married people do when they haven’t seen each other all day.”
Rafael raised a single eyebrow.
I stood and pulled him toward the bedroom. “Thanks, Jase. I owe you one.”
* * * * *
I smoothed the coral sundress over my basketball sized belly before handing Rafael my cell phone. “Will you take a picture of my tummy?”
He set my phone on the counter. “Only if I can take it with my phone.”
I bit my bottom lip. “Will you text the picture to Brady?”
A frown marred his handsome face. “Why?”
“He’s feeling left out because Jase gets to feel the baby kick. He wants a belly shot so he can see how big the baby is.”
Rafael set his phone on the counter. “Those two need to stop ogling my pregnant wife, find nice girls to marry, and knock them up.”
I tried not to laugh. “Kadyn wants a picture too.”
Rafael groaned.
“They’re not looking at me,” I reasoned. “They just want to see my belly.”
He pulled my back to his chest so he could cradle my tummy in his arms.
My eyes slid closed. I loved the feel of his body wrapped so protectively around mine. “The more invested they are in this pregnancy, the more likely they are to babysit for us when the baby is born.”
Soft, full lips caressed my neck. “That could prove useful.” Rafael slid the strap over my shoulder so he could release my breast. He kissed my shoulder while lowering the other strap. Warm, strong hands kneaded my breasts, tugging both nipples into stiff peaks that threatened to send me to my knees.
“How long will Jase be gone?” I panted. I shifted my bottom against his erection, anxious to relieve the tension between my legs.
Rafael forced my chin back as he sought my lips. He tugged at my panties until they slid down my legs. “The virtual shooting range should keep him busy for a while.” His hand followed my spine as he forced my chest against the table.
I gasped when the cool wood pressed against my swollen breasts.
With a
well-muscled thigh, he forced my legs a little wider. His t-shirt and sweats made a soft swooshing sound as they tumbled to the floor.
I gripped the other side of the table.
His fingers dipped between my legs as he lifted the dress. “You’re so ready.”
I whimpered when I felt the soft, velvety tip of his erection slide into place. Heat licked my skin everywhere our bodies touched. I squirmed against him.
Rafael reached for my hips.
I sucked in a breath.
With an ominous growl, he thrust.
The room sheeted white.
Rafael allowed no time to adjust. I clung to the table as he slammed inside of me. Over and over he thrust… demanding… possessing… owning every part of me. There was something primal and raw fueling this… need.
My breasts scraped against the cold table. Fire licked between my legs. Our bodies wound tighter and tighter, then spiraled into something unrecognizable. I prayed it would never end, even as I yearned for my release.
Rafael grabbed my hips, slammed inside of me, and screamed, “Kristine!”
I disintegrated when he pulsed inside of me.
* * * * *
Dr. Barriera studied the slip of paper. She looked… crestfallen.
Rafael gripped my fingers so hard they hurt. “What’s wrong?”
She held one finger up while she reached for the blood pressure cuff. “I want to check her vitals again.” She wrapped the cuff around my arm, positioned the stethoscope in her ears, and pumped. The seconds ticked by while she listened. She eyed the gauge.
“Breathe,” Rafael whispered.
Fear slinked through the room.
Dr. Barreira removed the stethoscope from her ears. “Kristine’s blood pressure is well outside the normal range. She has too much protein in her urine.” She pressed her fingers into my shins. “The swelling in her legs suggests her kidneys are not functioning properly. I’m afraid she has preeclampsia.”
“Which is?” Rafael smoothed his fingers over my leg as if trying to erase what Dr. Barriera had seen.
She set my chart aside. “Preeclampsia is a pregnancy complication characterized by high blood pressure, fluid retention, and protein in the urine. It’s worrisome for a number of reasons. Preeclampsia can reduce blood flow to the placenta, which means less oxygen and nutrients for the baby. It can cause seizures and damage Kristine’s organs. It can also cause a placental abruption which can prove life threatening for Kristine and the baby.”
Rafael stumbled back. He looked like he’d just been hit by a grenade. “No. That can’t be right. Run the tests again.”
“I’ve run them… multiple times.” She looked at me. “That’s why I asked to see you twice this week.”
“I knew my blood pressure was elevated, but I didn’t realize it could cause all of those problems,” I admitted shakily.
She stepped a little closer. “Are you experiencing any headaches?”
“A few. Nothing too disabling,” I added hastily.
“Vomiting… pain in your right side?”
I shook my head. “No vomiting or pain.”
“Is there a cure, a treatment, or a medication she can take?” Rafael sat next to me on the exam table. He folded me in his arms.
“The only cure for preeclampsia is delivery.” Dr. Barriera eyed me worriedly.
My heart stalled. “No! It’s too soon. The baby will die.”
The color drained from Rafael’s face. “Can a baby survive at twenty-three weeks?”
“There’s a ten to twenty percent chance your baby could survive delivery. Your baby only weighs five hundred grams.” She looked at me. “Approximately one pound.”
One pound? One. Pound. I shook my head. Forcefully. “I won’t. I refuse.”
“You’re putting your own life at risk if you continue with this pregnancy,” she warned.
My heart raced. Blood thundered in my ears. “I don’t care. I’d rather die than end this pregnancy.”
Rafael sucked in a breath. “This cannot be happening.”
“Please,” I begged. “I’ll do anything you ask.”
She tore her eyes from mine. “I’d like to measure the baby again.” She tapped a few keys on the ultrasound machine.
Rafael adjusted the pillow while I eased onto my back. His hands shook as he pushed my shirt out of the way.
Dr. Barreira squirted gel on my tummy. She studied the baby from a variety of angles, took some measurements, and printed a couple more pictures. “We can try to get you to twenty-six weeks. There’s an eighty percent chance your baby will survive if he’s delivered at twenty-six weeks.”
The vise around my heart eased a fraction of an inch.
She wiped the gel from my tummy. “I’m going to order two steroid injections to help accelerate the baby’s lung development. They hurt like hell, but they’re worth it. I want you to limit your salt intake and drink lots of water. The water will help flush toxins from your body. I’m also going to prescribe a blood pressure medication.” She looked at Rafael. “Purchase a blood pressure cuff when you pick up the prescription. I want her blood pressure taken four times a day. Text me the results.” She scribbled her phone number on a prescription pad.
Rafael stared at the prescription.
Dr. Barriera’s expression turned fierce. “You are to remain on complete bed rest. No physical exertion or stress. We’ll give this a week. If that doesn’t work, then I’m going to admit you. I want to see you in two days so we can check your urine and blood again. If you want to have the baby in the United States, you might want to think about returning within the next few days. This will not be a full term pregnancy. You won’t make it more than a few weeks.”
I reached for Rafael.
She gently cleared her throat. “I want you to continue having sex.”
Rafael crushed me to his chest. “But you said…”
She took another deep breath. “I know. No physical exertion. However, preeclampsia is an immune response. There’s a protein in the sperm, HLA-G, that can help regulate and suppress Kristine’s immune response to the fetus. Her body is treating the fetus like foreign tissue. HLA-G can help suppress this response and reduce the risk for complications. You just… You need to approach this in a way that minimizes stress and physical exertion for her.”
Rafael nodded. Once.
I swiped a rogue tear from my cheek. “I don’t understand. We’ve been having sex. Lots of sex. Shouldn’t that be suppressing my immune system now?”
“We lived apart the first five months of this pregnancy,” Rafael reminded me. “We’d come together for a few days, then separate for weeks.”
Our decision to live separately so I could finish my degree threatened our child’s life? I sighed dejectedly.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Barriera whispered. She stepped quietly from the room.
A wounded sound escaped Rafael’s chest.
I collapsed in a pool of tears.
* * * * *
Bosco tumbled off the pillow. He shook his head before attempting to climb it again.
Rafael leaned against the doorframe. “How are you feeling?”
“Bored,” I confessed.
In three long strides, he joined me on the bed. “The contractor is still working on the renovations.”
I cupped the side of his face. He looked so tired, it made my heart ache. “Any idea when he’ll be done?”
Rafael helped Bosco up onto the pillow. He kicked his shoes off so he could stretch out beside me. “A week tops.”
I curled against his chest. “So we’ll remain another week?”
Bosco walked a couple of tight circles before settling in to sleep.
Rafael’s fingers sifted through my hair. “I think the children’s hospitals in DC and Virginia are better equipped to manage a high risk pregnancy and a premature baby, but I don’t want you breathing paint fumes or drywall dust. I’m afraid we’re going to have to wait a few more days.”
I
hugged him a little tighter. “What about Saint-Tropez?”
He rubbed my back. “Saint-Tropez can wait.”
My eyes slid closed as the tension eased from my shoulders. “Can you fly back to Virginia with me?”
“Yes.” His relief was evident. “I have to return for a preliminary hearing, but that shouldn’t last more than a few days.”
I studied his face. “How many people have you arrested so far?”
“Nine.” He propped himself up with his elbow after easing me onto my back.
I tried to smooth the worry lines from his face. “Have you captured everyone?”
“We’ve arrested everyone we have sufficient evidence against. Hopefully, those arrests will deter the rest.” He grasped my hand. “This conversation is getting off track. We need to discuss the preeclampsia.”
“Why? I’m on bedrest. I’m drinking lots of water. I’m taking the medication Dr. Barriera prescribed…”
“And you’re not getting any better,” he interjected.
“I’m not getting any worse,” I countered.
“We need a plan,” he persisted. “What happens if you have a seizure? What if your body shuts down and I’m forced to choose between you and the baby?”
“Then you choose the baby.” I tried to distance myself from him.
Rafael captured me with his leg, then eased on top of me, effectively pinning me beneath him. “Kristine, you’re asking me to sign your death certificate. There’s still a chance the baby could survive if you deliver early. If your organs start shutting down… there’s no recovering from that. And if your body shuts down, the baby’s life would be threatened either way.”
“You could put me on life support.” I struggled to break away.
Rafael grasped my face. He forced me to look at him. “I’m your husband. I’m supposed to take care of you. It’s my job to keep you safe and to protect you from harm. I’ve been trying… for years. You can’t ask me to stop now.”
I grasped his hands, which remained on either side of my face. “You have to protect our child.”
Storm clouds rolled through his eyes. “And if I choose to save you instead? Will you forgive me if I grant permission for an emergency C-section?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
Rafael’s forehead fell against mine. “Please don’t ask me to sacrifice your life for his.”