The days flew by so quickly, and the life that I carried inside of me was becoming more and more poignant each day that left. It would be that closer to getting bigger. And I was truly in love with how beautifully enhanced my senses had become because of this baby.

My bump showed, and I felt at ease with it. I didn’t feel overweight, although, my eating habits forced my father into having to rethink the idea of dinner time. I was having my father running all over the place: demanding food…more food. “And if you have the time, Dad, bring me some water.”

He never complained. Not even once. He was so insistent on me resting. And he would come up with a tray of cooked meat and vegetables telling me that I had to eat healthy. I devoured it all, and he would be back with another a couple of hours later.

I saw Samson around the house. But I was more confined to my room and kept the stress levels down for the little kid. Fiona was even on her best behaviour. No acting up. No giving me a hard time. Just simply wanting to know if the baby would be prettier than me. Yeah, I thought it was too good to be true. She hoped it wouldn’t turn out ugly.

I decided to chill in the living room and have my feet up on the squared poufs. I stretched my legs onto two of them: leaned back onto the sofa and listened to the relaxation soundtrack that would only last for so long when my father came into the ruin the peace.

“You relaxed over there, son?”

“I sure am, Father.” I closed my eyes.

“And how’s my grandson?”

“You don’t know what the gender will be yet.” I still kept my eyes closed, but I was drifting to sleep.

“That’s true. Girl or boy?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want the baby to be, a girl or boy?”

“I haven’t thought about it, Dad.”

“I remembered wanting a boy.”

“And you had one.”

“I did.” He got up from sitting next to me. “Ah, morning, Samson.”

My eyes shot open.

“Morning, Mr. Wine.”

My dad left, and Samson took a seat next to me: drawn between the baby bump and the sight of me with my cheeks rounder and thighs a little denser. I was more flesh and less bone now. But he seemed to like the looks of that.

“How are you feeling?”

“Pregnant.”

Samson smiled. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve booked a doctor’s appointment for you.”

“For when?” Samson was assertive much.

“Today. Don’t worry, it’s covered by me, so you won’t have to fork out any money.”

“That wouldn’t have been a problem. We have money in the Wine family.”

“I know. I just wanted to do something for you and the kid.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think we should just leave that appointment.”

“Don’t make me do it.”

“Do what, Samson?”

“Carry you to that car.”

“You wouldn’t?”

He did. He scooped me up as like we were newlyweds and waddled out the door, kicking it open and taking me to his tomato red truck. He placed me in there as gently as possible and then went to his side of the truck to start it.

“Thank you for not kicking up a fuss.” He shut the door and put on his seatbelt.

“I wouldn’t have gotten far with this bump.”

He helped me to get the seatbelt over my belly-bump. A few extra pounds could sure make things difficult. I managed to hear the click that told you the seatbelt was fastened, and then tried to think of anything but the doctor’s.

* * *

We got close, and I still wanted to tell Samson to turn back and take me home. I should’ve kicked up a storm and become a problem. But seeing Samson there and him obviously trying, kept me well behaved. My father would find it disrespectful of me to treat Samson in that manner.

I snuck a peek at him and he caught me; returning my gaze upon him with a stroke of my ear. It felt a little too good, so I strongly purred as he continued to stroke the back of my ear. I wanted to pull away, brush him off, keep him away, but I soon became animalistic as he touched my erogenous layer and blew it apart. He hit the sweet spot and I was putty in his hands.

When he stopped, the silence came back. But I was comfortable within it. Samson looked over to me as if what was on his mind needed to be said.

“You’re a Siberian tiger?”

“Good guess.”

“In the spare room was a fair-sized pair. And I can’t misplace that hint of a roar inside of that purr when it starts to rumble in the jungle. I find it soothes me.”

“A Siberian purr soothes you?”

“Only your purr soothes me.”

That was smooth. Samson got points for feeding me such a line. We pulled up to the hospital and I unbuckled my belt and waited for Samson to help me down.

“Let’s go in,” he said.

I’d always found the doctor’s to be nuisances. The waiting for news. Either good or bad. To live…or to die. And when it boiled down to it, your life was within the hands of strangers who knew nothing about you, but wanted to save you.

I guessed it was better than having known people working on you and them allowing you to die. Less guilt that way. As we waited, I already felt a difference in Samson that had never been there for me before. It was a genuine interest that he had for me and the child.

He was doting all over me when we waited for the doctor to call me in for my ultrasound and check. He brought me cups of water. Made sure the windows were opened so I could get enough air into the room. He offered to massage my back; ease my shoulders.

I refused all his help. But I found it so hard to keep the no…no…sorry, no. And then the frigid shuffle away and hoping that he’d leave me be. When we got inside the doctor’s room, he got me settled onto the chair and applied the cold jelly onto my revealed stomach.

He used the ultrasound machine to transmit a high frequency as he probed my insides and gave me a look-over to check if everything was as it should be. Samson was near and peered at the screen that the doctor was gazing upon as he kindly made sure that I was comfortable. Upon the screen was the first sighting of life; a small foetus that came into a full-scale size and caused Samson to dotingly crumble into a fawning —that’s frigging cute— machine.

To see an Alpha act that way…considering what I’d been through in the past, made me piece back together the cracks with super-glue. Only a small section. Because it still wasn’t enough for me to fully trust him. I was still reeling from the failure of a past relationship. The breaking down of my nature. The questioning of what made him treat me that way? Samson was not that past love, but he sure as hell was a dominant Alpha.

Nonetheless though, I gave myself a chance to enjoy his sincere adoration for the baby. Even managed a painful smile, but recoiled back into myself when I got a little too full of happiness and my eyes were beginning to twinkle-twinkle little star at him. He noticed, said nothing, and bit down gently on his lip from not wanting to ask if I was ok.

When the doctor slipped out to gather all the results, I stood in front of the mirror and observed the bump properly for the first time. But instead of observing just that, I allowed myself to rotate my memory back to another time when I gazed at myself in the glass, although, it was gormlessly. A lack of flesh on me. A horridly gaunt face and dead peering eyes. My collar bone and ribs were protruding sharply; skin was dry with signs of eczema; legs were about ready to be snapped off and thrown into the fire. And with my appearance as sickly as this, there stood the Alpha who didn’t even bat an eyelid. He didn’t even care. I shut my eyes and erased him back to the back of my mind.

Samson joined me at the side of the mirror. I was back with him now. But what a change. The contrast between the two was not so different. I was beautiful to look at, but it wasn’t always so. I sat back down and controlled the small tremors in my hands.

Before I came in, I had to take a pregnancy test: the result came back positive. It wasn’t like me and Samson needed that confirmation, but it was still nice to know that it was all going according to plan. No mishaps. A viable and breathing baby was having a consistent nest in there and he/she was more than welcome.

When all was done, the doctor sat us down. I’d done this before too: the scenario eerily similar with the doctor running through all the test results. The status of the baby; the heartbeat; my own health; keeping myself fit and healthy. Procedures to take to ensure that the pregnancy went as smooth as possible.

All that prep talk. I’d been there. Done that. And heard the same question from the doctor. “I have to ask this, although you seem to be in good health…just to make sure, but has there been any complications in the past that might apprehend your pregnancy?” He looked down at the chart with all my information.

The only difference now was that question when it was first asked was an easy-peasy no. All was fine, doc. No problems. I’m a ball of good health. But now the twist was narrowly close to a knife to the gullet. I pent up with no anger, but sorrow. Samson wouldn’t be able to see it. The doctor would likely offer me some meds to rid myself of the jitters if he could see my drop-in fatigue.

From my past relationship, I had lost the baby. It was a miscarriage. A fatal dosage of this was what happens when you didn’t protect what was deep within. And that was literal. Because I didn’t do enough for that seed. It wasn’t watered. Suffered from what I was going through, and couldn’t survive because I had given up.

The doctor looked up from his chart. Samson gave me a slight glance as he waited for the answer as well.

I tell them both, “No. No complications.” There was a major flaw in my throat. A frog jammed in there.

The doctor accepted that as the truth. But Samson seemed to think otherwise.

Let him think. Because there is so much that he does not know.