A/N: super short chapter my bad I wrote this on my phone cause thanksgiving exhausted me into a migraine and sitting up is actually torture. I have to admit though this story is not what I intended on the Maura side anyway so she is the one that tells me where she wants this story to go. Thank you for the reviews!~ S.K.
Seven
In the gentle embrace of the early stages of Jane's pregnancy, I found a peculiar solace, a sense that life had finally aligned itself in a way that felt right. Each morning, I carefully navigated the nuances of Jane's morning sickness, a tender choreography of care that brought an unexpected fulfillment.
Her well-being became my priority, and tending to her needs, especially during those moments of discomfort, felt like a natural extension of the bond we shared. It was in these simple acts, in the quiet hours when the world was still waking up, that I reveled in the intimacy of our connection.
Yet, there was another layer to this newfound harmony. In the realm of our shared desires, I found a satisfaction that went beyond the physical. Satisfying Jane's sexual appetite became an unspoken agreement, a dance between us that spoke volumes. In these moments, it was as if the universe had granted me a reprieve, a chance to revel in the illusion that my life had, at last, fallen into a harmonious rhythm.
On the morning of Jane's doctor's appointment, a sense of calm permeated our routine. I prepared a cup of soothing tea and a simple breakfast of dry toast, mindful of what little Jane could stomach. Her bouts of nausea had become a familiar part of our mornings, and my role in comforting her felt both natural and necessary.
As Jane approached, the freshness of her breath after brushing mingled with the delicate aroma of tea in the air. She kissed my neck, a gesture she was well aware held a particular sensitivity for me. What she didn't realize was that every touch, every caress, resonated with a profound sensitivity within me. I had admitted to myself that walking away from this might inevitably result in a broken heart.
"Right now?" I questioned, turning to face Jane, who stood before me wrapped in only a towel.
"I had a really good dream last night," Jane shared, settling on the kitchen counter as I had signaled.
With a nod, I set to work, and as I brought Jane to climax, the lines between physical connection and the intricate dance of emotions blurred. In that moment, I forgot to guard my heart, an oversight that hinted at the unspoken truths and complexities woven into the fabric of our evolving relationship.
"Your turn," Jane whispered, leaning forward with an intimacy that I both craved and feared. A momentary struggle within me played out, and I stepped away. I needed her, yet I needed time to create a distance, a sanctuary for my emotions to recalibrate.
"We're going to be late," I redirected, my voice betraying the underlying turmoil. "Go get dressed."
As Jane promised to pick up where we left off when they returned home, I stayed in the kitchen, allowing the tears that had been withheld to fall freely. Leaning against the fridge, I sought solace in its cool surface, berating myself for succumbing to such heightened emotions.
Composed, I stood just before Jane returned to the kitchen, the lukewarm tea and toast breakfast waiting. "Ready to go?" she asked.
"Yeah," I responded, the steadiness in my voice a facade concealing the intricate dance of emotions beneath the surface.
As we waited in the doctor's office, surrounded by couples eagerly anticipating the joyous news of impending parenthood, I couldn't help but wonder if Jane secretly wished Mark Hastings were by her side. The unspoken question weighed on me, and I turned to Jane, voicing my concern.
"Should Mark be here instead?" I questioned, my gaze fixed on the parental tableau surrounding us.
Jane glanced up from a parenting magazine, her expression unreadable. "He doesn't know."
"Why not?" I pressed, a concern for legal rights clouding my thoughts. "He has rights, Jane."
"I can't tell him," she responded, her attention returning to the magazine. "He's off the grid on a mission."
"For how long?" I inquired, seeking clarity in a situation that seemed to be shrouded in uncertainty.
Jane shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that belied the weight of her words. "Could be weeks, months, could be years."
"So, he—" I began, but Jane's name was called, interrupting our conversation.
As we walked toward the exam room, Jane casually shared that she had already broken up with Hastings, prepared to navigate this journey alone. Her words resonated with me, and I reassured her, "You are not alone," taking her hand for emphasis.
Jane, with a hint of humor, quipped, "You want to be my baby daddy?" My heart skipped a beat, my silent yearning apparent. Jane chuckled, misinterpreting my reaction, "Relax, I'm just kidding."
In the privacy of the exam room, after Jane's weight and assessment, I couldn't contain the truth any longer. "I would gladly raise this child with you," I confessed.
Jane, at a loss for words, was spared from responding as the doctor entered the room. The focus shifted to the ultrasound, providing a welcome distraction from the weighty emotions that lingered beneath the surface.