Page 32 of Griffin
It’s dark when I feel movement to my side. What’s happening?
I blink a few times, the movements and sound becoming a little more frantic before I hear a deep grumble.
Griffin.
I sit up, albeit slowly and extremely uncoordinated as he continues to move and mumble. He slept in the armchair next to my bed, a small blanket half draped over him, and it seems he’s having what I think is a night terror.
“Griffin?” I say gently as I turn on the side lamp.
“No… no… NO!” he shouts and wakes himself up, and I gasp as he looks right at me, all wild-eyed, breathing hard, looking ready to kill. My heart thuds as we stare at each other for a beat.
“Are you…”
“Fine. Sorry. Shit…” Leaning over, he rubs his face. I look over him. His chest is moving rapidly, like he’s been running. I spot the time, noting it’s two a.m.
“It’s okay if you…” I say softly.
“I said I’m fine.” His words have a bite, and I swallow. We’re in close quarters, so I can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. I should feel uneasy, having a man right next to me while I was sleeping. My apartment is tiny, the armchair barely big enough for him. But I’m glad he came here to rest, and knowing he was here makes me feel safer.
He remains sitting forward with his head in his hands, not meeting my gaze. So I lower back down, keeping the lamp on and turning onto my side to face him.
“You know this bump is nocturnal too.” I try a different tactic. He remains silent, so I continue.
“Moves and dances all night. I’m surprised, since I don’t have a rhythmic bone in my body…” I huff a laugh at myself as I rub my belly on the side and feel a kick. “Oh… yep… there it is…” I grimace a little, and Griffin lifts his head quickly to look at me.
Without thinking any more about it, I reach out and grab his hand. “Here.”
His body is rigid, like he’s too scared to move. But he lets me hold his hand, and I move it slowly to come to my belly.
“Here… feel that?” I ask, watching his reaction.
His eyes widen as my baby kicks his hand. The little one is playing soccer or football in there.
“Does it hurt?” His voice is like gravel, but there’s kindness in the way he asks. Even though his scowl remains deep, his eyes electrify me. Glassy, deep brown, looking right at me like he can see into my soul.
“Not hurt, just a little uncomfortable. I think it knows today is a big day…” I smile, and Griffin’s body softens a little.
“You been doing some reading?” He nods toward the baby book on my nightstand.
“I can barely keep my eyes open some nights, but it tells me what to expect each week.”
He leans over and grabs the book, flicking through the pages and lifting an eyebrow. “It says the baby is about the size of a melon?”
“It sure feels like it.” I grimace as I rub my side, and he goes back to reading.
“Says that you will experience back aches, shortness of breath…” His voice trails off as I nod, feeling all those things and more.
“Have you packed your hospital bag?” He lifts his head to look at me, concern shining through.
“Not yet… I haven’t had time.” It’s a poor excuse, but I don’t have much to pack.
He frowns, obviously not liking the answer, then he closes the book and slides it back on my side table.
“Do you have a lot of nightmares?” I broach the subject again, tentatively, my head on the pillow, facing him. He scrubs his tired face, not meeting my gaze, yet his hand remains on my tummy, the baby continuing to move around. His thumb gently brushes across my skin tenderly, making me smile.
“Yeah,” he answers honestly, his voice quiet.
“Do you remember them?”
