“Bed rest?” Jane asks from the other end of the line.

“That’s what I said.” I wrap my hand around the cup of warm, caffeine-free tea and raise it to my lips. I take a sip.

“Jesus, as if you weren't already getting enough rest. You were already stuck in that apartment all day,” Jane says. “What about me? I work, like, sixty hours a week. I need a doctor’s note so I can skip work and lie around in bed all day.”

“You think I want this? Jesus, I swear I’m dying of restlessness. I can’t even do laundry or go to the store,” I complain. “I read somewhere that bed rests aren’t even a good idea in a lot of cases. It could cause blood clots and reduce bone mass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I researched it and found this scientific study. I showed Heath. I even saw another OB/GYN to get a second opinion. He said bed rest doesn’t have any proven benefits.” I let out an irritated sigh. “But Heath wouldn’t listen. He actually wants me to be horizontal 24/7, except for maybe about fifteen minutes a day.”

“You know, if you’d said that a few months ago, it would’ve sounded sexy. But now, with you practically incapacitated… I don’t know.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I’m not getting any either.”

“Damn.”

“I know. At least I can still write.”

“That’s really sweet of him, though, to insist on the bed rest and do everything for you. I never would’ve thought the ruthless Heath Anders to be such a softie.”

I giggle. “He’s only aggressive when it comes to his investments. With me and his parents? He’s super sweet. He wasn’t even mean when I was his personal assistant—just kind of distant.”

“I’m really happy this worked out for you, Kat. When you told me you were starting to catch the feels for him, I thought it was going to end in a disaster.”

“Yeah. You were all doom and gloom,” I say.

“You can’t blame me for that. You two had an agreement—a legal contract—detailing the rules of your relationship. You were supposed to be a service provider, and he was supposed to be a customer. It wasn’t meant to develop into a real relationship. I didn’t expect the two of you to get married and ride off into the sunset.”

“That’s true. But then again, what is marriage, if not just another legal contract?”

“That’s  also true,” Jane admits. “So now that the two of you are a legit couple and you’re having a baby together, are you getting married, too?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about it. But it just feels like a lot of things happening quickly, all at once. Maybe we should take it slow.”

“Says the pregnant woman, about her relationship with the unborn baby’s father.”

I laugh. What can I say? Jane has a point. Besides, if not for her phone calls, I’d have lost all contact with the outside world.

The days go by in a blissful blur.

Despite the bed rest, life doesn’t suck. And I can thank Heath for that. He’s been nice enough to handle all the chores, errands, and meals—he doesn’t do those things himself because he has to work, but he hires people to make sure I don’t have to lift a finger.

And even though one of the reasons I cited for moving in here was to be able to have sex during the horny months of my pregnancy, that’s not happening either. Heath is too scared of hurting me.

Or, in his own words, “I don’t want to put a dent in our baby’s head.”

Yep. Charming, I know.

I feel conflicted.

On one hand, Heath’s attentive care makes me feel loved. He treats me like I’m something precious, and I’ve never had that before.

On the other hand, I want to scream because I know all this fuss is not necessary. And I feel like one of those prime-cut cows who get fed premium grass and receive regular massages, just so it will taste good when they finally take it to the slaughterhouse.

Wait. Maybe that came out wrong.

Heath isn’t taking me to any slaughterhouse, of course. He wouldn’t hurt me on purpose. But it sometimes feels like he’s doing all those things not because he cares about me, but because he cares about the baby.

I know it’s stupid, but a part of me is still afraid that Heath’s only staying with me because I’m carrying his baby, that he’s going to leave me once this is all over. Which is dumb, of course. He’s taken me to see his family and everything. And I can feel the sincerity in his every word, in every little touch.

Then, I get the phone call. Jane calls me and I stupidly think we’re just about to have another easy chat together, when in fact bad news can come from anywhere.

“Where are you?” Jane asks.

“At the skate park, doing back flips.” I laugh. “Hello? Bed rest? Remem—”

“You need to turn on your TV. Channel Two. Now.” She sounds urgent. She doesn't even let me finish my sentence or laugh at my joke. Sure, it's not my best joke, but it's not that bad.

“Wow, you’re bossy today. PMS?” I ask as I lean forward in the couch and reach for the remote control on the coffee table. It sounds easy, but with a baby bump the size of a beach ball… it’s a feat of willpower and determination.

“What have you been doing today, that you don’t know about this?” Jane asks.

“About what? I’ve been writing. Didn’t I tell you, that’s the one thing I can still do?” I ask as I press the red button to turn on the TV. “Heath doesn’t even like it when I laze around on the couch like I’m doing right now, because he wants me to be in bed instead.”

Channel Two shows up on the TV and my jaw drops. “What the hell…?”

“I take it you’re watching it right now?” Jane asks.

“What is he doing?” I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

“Looks like he’s leaving,” Jane says. “That’s smart. I don’t think this is a good time for him to make a statement.”

“A statement about what?” I watch, dumbfounded, as I watch Heath make his way through the crowd of reporters on the TV screen. This looks like like big news.

“About you, and the baby,” Jane says, sympathy in her voice.