Page 146 of Playing Her Game

His gaze stays on mine. He doesn't interrupt. He doesn't try to coax the answer out of me. He just waits, giving me the space I've asked for even as I can see him growing more concerned.

The silence stretches between us.

"I'm pregnant."

Rez goes completely still.

His eyes drop to my stomach, then lift to my face. The panic comes so quickly that it steals the breath from me. He remembers what I've told him about the miscarriage, about my diagnosis, about the possibility that carrying a pregnancy could be difficult. I see all of it in his expression, the hope arriving hand in hand with the fear.

"No, no, no." I grip his hands tighter. "I have a plan."

"Anna—"

"Listen to me." I step closer, holding his gaze. "I've already seen a specialist. I'm taking this seriously. I'm not promising you that everything will be easy or that there are guarantees, because there aren't. But I have information. I have medical support. And I have a plan for moving forward carefully."

He looks at me as if he's trying to absorb every word while his mind races ahead to everything that could go wrong.

I know that look. I'm wearing the same fear inside myself.

"Say something," I whisper, then immediately regret it. "No. I'm sorry. You don't have to say anything yet. I just needed you to know."

His jaw flexes. He draws a breath that doesn't seem to reach his lungs, and for one awful second I think I've made a mistake by telling him here, after a loss, when he's already struggling to contain his disappointment.

Then his hands tighten around mine.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

The question undoes me more than any declaration could have. "I'm scared."

"I know."

"No, Rez. I'm really scared." My voice breaks. "I've been trying to be practical about it. I've talked to the specialist, and I've asked every question I can think of, and I know what the next steps are. But knowing what to do doesn't make me less afraid."

He doesn't tell me not to worry. He doesn't promise me that everything will be fine.

He waits.

"I want this baby," I say. "I want it so much it scares me. And I know what happened before. I know what another loss could mean. I don't know if I can go through that again, and I don't know how to want something this badly without being terrified of losing it."

My eyes burn, but I keep looking at him.

"Promise me something."

His expression tightens. "Anything."

"Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll still love me."

For a moment, he looks almost stricken. He lifts one of my hands and presses it against his chest, right over his heart.

"Anna." His voice is rough. "My love isn't conditional on whether your body can carry a child."

The tears spill over. "I need you to understand that I'm not asking you to pretend you won't be disappointed if something happens."

"I'm not pretending anything."

"I know you want a family. I know how much you want this."

"I do." He swallows, his gaze holding mine. "And I'm scared as hell right now. I'm trying to figure out how to be happy and terrified at the same time, and I'm not doing a particularly good job of it."