“Pregnancy is normally around forty weeks. That means I have eight more weeks, give or take.”
“Give or take? Why isn’t it more precise? Surely medicine is advanced enough to give you an exact date.”
She did the thing where it was obvious she had something to say but rolled her lips over her teeth instead.
The hand on my leg balled into a tight fist. Her reticence to express herself fully drove me mad when it truly should have been a relief. I didn’t understand why it bothered me so much, but it did.
“I’ll have someone to cover for me. You don’t have to worry about that,” she replied.
I closed my eyes, shuddering at the thought of having to get used to someone else. Catherine had made it easy for me. That wasn’t usually the case with my assistants.
“Make sure of it,” I uttered more harshly than intended. Fuck, this was a nightmare. I didn’t want a different assistant. Catherine, despite her one annoying trait, had been the best I’d ever had.
“Of course, Elliot.”
I opened my eyes at her sharp tone. She’d already picked up her tablet, focusing on whatever she had been doing before I interrupted her. Which was good. We both had a lot to do, and it appeared we’d be stuck in this car for a while.
If I were alone, I would have said fuck it and walked back to the office. Since the last thing I wanted to do was send Catherine into early labor, we’d stay here, where the seats were soft and cushioned and there was no chance of a squalling infant making an appearance.
Chapter Five
Catherine
There was a man behind my desk doing something to my chair.
I hated that chair with its bar running up the middle; I was fairly certain it would impale me if I shifted the wrong way. But still, it was mine.
My steps picked up speed, intent on defending my chair. But as I drew closer, the butter-like leather and plush cushions came into focus. It wasn’t my chair at all.
My exhaustion from a night of interrupted sleep—Baby Girl also thought my sleep time was her party time—muddled my thoughts. It took me a moment to realize this was a delivery guy, not some random man off the street.
“Hi,” I called as I approached my desk.
He looked up from the plastic wrap he must have just removed from the chair. “Good morning, ma’am. Is this your desk?”
“It is.” I stopped on the side opposite him. “Did I get a new chair?”
“Looks like it.” He gave it a pat. “The whole floor got new chairs this morning. Top of the line. Come test it out.”
He seemed harmless. Almost grandfatherly. That didn’t mean he was, but I took my chances. The chair really did look nice, and my feet already hurt. Or maybe they hadn’t stopped.
Circling my desk, I placed my bag on top and took a seat.
Luxury.
Like sitting on a pile of clouds.
No danger of being impaled, and the leather didn’t squeak when I moved. Instead, it cupped my ass like the hands of angels.
I sighed, my eyes fluttering closed.
The man chuckled. “Good, huh?”
“So good,” I cooed. “I’m going to marry this chair. Do you think they’ll let me bring it to the hospital? It would be a good birthing chair.”
He laughed a little harder. “I don’t know about that, ma’am, but I’m glad you like it. Enjoy.”
Once he was gone, I swiveled in circles for a minute or two then headed to the break room. Davida and Raymond were in the midst of their morning gossip.
“Darling.” Davida reached out like she was going to hug me, but her hands went straight to my belly. Since I’d popped two weeks ago, I’d kept on popping…and popping…and popping. “Look at you. I’ve never once had the urge to put myself through this, but you look so adorable.”
Raymond nodded with her, tapping a finger on his chin. “Like an adorable little beach ball.” He lightly patted the top of my belly one time before ripping his hand away. “That’s…harder than I expected.”
Davida nudged his side with her elbow. “Did you think she’d be squishy? There’s a human being in there.”
Raymond shuddered.
“Can we stop talking about me like I’m nothing more than an incubator?” I waved. “Hello, entire person before I started growing a person.”
“Sorry, darling.” Davida squeezed my shoulder. “We’re just so excited to be daddies.”
I rolled my eyes. Since Liam had gone back to Australia for an indefinite period of time, which I was really hoping would end soon, Davida and Raymond had declared themselves Baby Girl’s new dads.
She could have done worse…but she could have done a lot better. I wasn’t sure I’d trust either of them to help keep a fish alive, let alone a baby.
Not that I had any experience in either, but I was banking on instinct kicking in.
Raymond waved me off. “I guess we should be thanking you for the chairs. Mine is more luxurious than my butt knows what to do with.”
Davida continued dunking her tea bag in hot water. “I’m surprised Elliot sprung for top of the line.”
“Why would you thank me?” I asked.
Raymond exhaled heavily like he was tired of explaining everything to me. “Because everyone on this floor has seen you struggle busing your pretty butt out of your chair every time you stand and rubbing your spine like you just got off the rack.”
My hands went to my hips, which only pushed my belly out further, greatly impacting my attempt to give attitude. “Granted, I’m not as graceful as I once was, but I don’t struggle to get out of my seat, Raymond.”
“Sure, Kit, but don’t deny you’ve been in pain,” he argued.
I let my hands drop, attitude gone. “Yeah, but it was because of the chair, not my slightly misshapen body.”
Davida’s spoon tinked on the inside of her mug as she stirred her tea. “Which Elliot noticed. Obviously.”
I spun to her. “Why obviously?”
She brought her mug to her lips. “We’ve needed to upgrade our chairs for ages. The previous ones were aesthetically pleasing, but as you know, they were torture devices. I’m a hundred-percent sure the comfort of the assistants on the executive floor had never been a concern of Elliot’s…until you.”
I didn’t believe Elliot replaced all the assistants’ chairs just so I could have a new one. It didn’t make any sense.
If he had…that would have been an incredibly kind gesture.
When I sat down at my desk to write his schedule, my postscript was a little different.
P.S. You’re slightly more tolerable than usual.
I sliced it off the bottom and tucked it away with the others. Elliot arrived moments later, barely acknowledging me, as usual.
I followed him into his office, slipping the schedule on his desk. Elliot powered on his computer, moving his mouse around.
Absently, I pinched the fabric of my dress, pulling it away from my stomach. It was tighter than it had been a week ago, which was frustrating.
Click, click.
Dear god, how could he be annoyed with me already? I hadn’t said anything other than good morning.