“Your persistent nightmares and panic attacks.” The doctor gives me a sympathetic look. “It’s not uncommon for pregnancy hormones to amplify anxiety, particularly in the wake of traumatic events.”
“Oh.” I stare at him. “So I’m not just overreacting to what happened?”
“You’re not,” Dr. Goldberg assures me. “Depression and anxiety can happen to pregnant women with much less provocation. You do need to take it easy and relax as much as possible, though, both for your sake and that of the baby. Acute stress during pregnancy can lead to all sorts of complications, including a miscarriage.”
“I will make sure she rests and doesn’t stress.” Julian reaches for me again, intertwining his fingers with mine. It’s as if he can’t bear not to touch me today. “What about food, drinks?”
“I’ll give you a list of what to avoid,” Dr. Goldberg says. “You probably know about alcohol and caffeine, but there are a few more things, like sushi and seafood high in mercury.”
“All right.” Julian turns his head to look at me. “Baby, would you be okay with the doctor examining you now and removing the implant?” His voice is unusually soft, his gaze filled with indefinable emotion.
“Um, sure.” I see no reason to procrastinate, and I like that Julian asked, instead of just ordering the examination in his usual autocratic manner.
“Good.” He lifts my hand—the one he’s holding—and presses a kiss to the back of my wrist before letting it go. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
I nod, and Julian quietly exits the room, closing the door behind him.
“All right, Nora.” Dr. Goldberg smiles at me, reaching for his bag and pulling out latex gloves. “Shall we begin?”
* * *
After the doctor leaves, I change into a swimsuit and go to the back porch, grabbing my Psychology textbook on the way. Pregnancy or not, I have an exam to study for, and I’m determined to do so—if for no other reason than to distract myself from the situation. My arm once again sports a tiny, Band-Aid-covered wound, and I try to ignore the faint ache there, not wanting to focus on the fact that my birth control implant is gone . . . and the reason why.
It’s strange, but the broken feeling of last night is no longer there. It’s been replaced by a kind of distant hurt. I should probably be traumatized and angry at Julian, but I’m not. Like the days right after my abduction, last night feels like it belongs to a different era, to a time before we became who we are. I know I’m playing that game with myself again—the one where I exist solely in the moment and push all the bad stuff into a separate corner of my brain—but I need that game to stay sane.
I need that game because I can’t stop loving my captor, no matter what he does.
It doesn’t help that the Julian of this morning is a far cry from the brutal savage of last night. From the moment I woke up, he’s been treating me like I’m made of crystal. Breakfast in bed followed by a foot rub, constant little kisses and affectionate gestures—if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s feeling guilty.
Of course, I do know better. Only a thin line separates the monster of last night from the tender lover of this morning. Guilt is an emotion that’s as foreign to my husband as pity for his enemies.
When I get to the back porch, I grab a lounge chair under an umbrella and make myself comfortable. As always, the air outside is hot and humid, so thick it’s almost smothering. I don’t mind, though. I’m used to it. If it gets unbearable, I’ll jump into the pool. For now, I open my textbook and begin re-reading the chapter on neurotransmitters.
I’m only halfway through when a moving shadow makes me look up.
It’s Julian. Dressed in a pair of black swim trunks, he’s standing next to my chair, his gaze traveling over me with unabashed hunger.
I lick my lips, staring up at him. In the bright sunlight, he’s almost unbearably beautiful, the new scars somehow only adding to his stark masculinity. From his shoulders to his calves, every inch of his body is packed with lean, hard muscle. His powerful chest is dusted with dark hair, and his abs are clearly defined, with a line of hair trailing down from his navel into his shorts.
He’s stunning, more gorgeous than any man I’ve known—and I want him.
I want him despite last night, despite everything.
“How are you feeling, baby?” he asks, his voice low and husky. “Any nausea? Tiredness?”
“No.” I sit up, swinging my feet to the ground, and put down the textbook. “I’m okay today.”
Julian sits down next to me and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Good,” he says softly. “I’m glad.”
“Did you come out for a swim?” I try to ignore the warmth pooling between my thighs at his touch. “I thought you would go to your office.”
“I did, just for a few minutes, but I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
“Really?” Julian’s days off are so rare they’re practically nonexistent. “Why?”
He gives me a wry smile. “I couldn’t focus.”
“Oh.” I regard him cautiously. “Do you want to go for a swim then? I was thinking of diving in after I finished this chapter, but I can go now.”
“Sure.” Julian rises to his feet and offers me his hand. “Let’s go.”
I place my hand in his and let him lead me to the pool. As we approach the water, he suddenly bends down, slides his arm under my knees, and picks me up.