Page 16 of Griffin
“Sharp pain… across here.” I show the doctor.
“Griffin, give us a moment,” Hudson tells him, and I look up, seeing Griffin watching me before his jaw tics and he nods, stepping out of the room as the doctor gets to work.
“Braxton Hicks. It’s pretty common. About fifty percent of pregnant women feel them at some point. They’re not dangerous as such, but they’re a good indication that you need to start resting a little more. Keep your water intake up. Hydration plays a role.”
I breathe out in relief. “Will they continue?”
The doctor writes a few things down in my file. “They’re a little unpredictable. They could remain until you go into labor, or you might not experience any more. Again, I think you need more rest. You only have a few weeks to go, but the baby can decide to turn up at any time now, although I would prefer they stay inside a little longer. If they reoccur, or if you experience anything similar, come straight back here, and we can check you out. But as I said last time, I hope you’re ready for one energetic baby.” His wide smile puts me more at ease as I stand and walk toward the door.
I’ve been here for a few hours, and in that time, they’ve run tests and had a heart monitor on both me and the baby. The care and attention here is second to none.
“So is that what labor is going to feel like?” I gulp, waiting for his answer, because I’m not in a hurry to feel that pain again.
“I’m afraid it will be similar. But we have a variety of options to help you through it all. Different pain relief options, or even an epidural, if that’s the path you want to go down.”
I swallow, unsure. The pain, although I got through it, was intense. I hope this baby comes out quickly.
“I suggest you go home and put your feet up for the afternoon,” he tells me as we walk down the hall.
“Oh, I’ve got a few more things—” I start to tell him but get cut off by a gruff voice I wasn’t expecting.
“She’ll rest.”
My head whips around, and I see Griffin, standing there at the end of the hall like a big ogre ready to pounce.
“You’re still here?” I look at him in shock as my eyes get glassy. No one has ever shown this kind of support to me, not ever. Not while pregnant, and apart from my grandparents, not throughout my life.
“I am. I’ll take you home.”
I stare up at him for what I’m sure is too long. Am I dreaming? I blink a few times, but he remains in my vision. I thought I might have had to call the local taxi to get home or something. I assumed he left hours ago.
“Make sure she rests for the remainder of the day. And don’t forget Harvey’s party tomorrow. Actually, why don’t you bring Savannah,” Hudson says.
I look at my doctor, confused.
“My son’s birthday tomorrow. A big party. Lots of kids. Good way to get you prepared for your new role as a parent and to meet some more of the locals.” Hudson grins, and I look back at Griffin, my brain not connecting.
“Oh, I’m…” I start to say I’m busy, because I still have cleaning to do, and now that I have my taste back, I should be baking all night.
“We’ll be there,” Griffin tells him without hesitation.
“Great. Take care.” And just like that, my grumpy builder picks me up and walks me back out to his truck.
“I can walk, you know.” My words are halfhearted because I’m exhausted. The early mornings, late nights, and all that poking and prodding at the hospital has my mind and body more than ready to rest.
“I know,” is all he says as I lean into him a little, enjoying the feeling of being taken care of. He puts me in the truck quickly yet tenderly, ensuring I’m secure, and we get on our way.
He remains quiet for the entire drive back, silently brooding, and I feel my weariness deepen, yet glad to finally get back to the bakery and see it all still in one piece.
As the truck pulls up, I make a move to get out.
“Thanks, Griffin, I don’t…” He’s out of the truck and his door slammed mid-sentence. I sit, stunned for a moment, before my door whips open.
“Wha…” My words fail me as he scoops me up from the seat and carries me inside. Being in his embrace, my heart pounds. I didn’t have time to think about it earlier, but now that I’m calmer, I feel his large hands wrap around me. I take comfort in his protective hold, and I swallow down the feelings building; they have no business popping up now, as my friendly builder gives me a helping hand inside.
“The doctor said to rest,” he grits out as we step inside the bakery. I get ready to drop from his hold, but he keeps me in his arms tight, walking straight through the retail area and out the back to the kitchen.
“I need to remake the cinnamon buns.” I start to wriggle so he’ll set me down. Not wanting to embarrass myself because I can think of nothing I want more than to relax in his embrace and snuggle into his very hard and very masculine chest. My eyes snag on my baking trays. I want to make another batch. I want to make something for this party tomorrow.
