Page 8 of For Her
Mayzie
The dogs start whining and scamper to the door, indicating Jack’s return. He was gone a little longer than I thought he’d be.
“Alright, alright,” I hear him telling the dogs after the door that leads from the kitchen to the garage shuts. I hear more scuffling before his signature sharp whistle as he leads the dogs to the back slider and lets them out. I sit up straighter on the couch and mute the TV as he strolls in, a paper bag in hand.
“Hi, Baby,” he greets, as he strolls in before setting the paper bag down on the coffee table. He sits down on the couch and pulls my legs over his lap and turns to give me an adoring smile. “How do you feel?”
“Not too bad, actually,” I respond, sitting up to try and snuggle against his shoulder.
“Good, because I brought home some croissants in case you were feeling up to one,” he nods towards the bag.
“You’re so sweet,” I murmur into his shoulder. “And one does sound good.”
“How’s my other baby doin’?” He leans in to pat my tummy that’s still not showing any sign of a bump. “Not making mommy too sick today?” His voice carries more tenderness than I’ve ever heard, and I almost melt into the moment. Almost.
“What did the doctor say?” I ask, wanting to get down to why he hasn’t been feeling well.
“Well, he wants to runs some tests, but he doesn’t think it’s too serious,” he casually reports, his voice still low and sweet.
Tests?!
“What kind of tests?” I prod, while trying to keep my voice level.Don’t panic.
“Lab work,” he taps the square of gauze taped to the inside of his arm. “And a stress test in the morning.”
“Why a stress test?”
“The unexplainable heartburn made him want to make sure there’s nothing going on with my heart.” He shrugs a shoulder but then runs a hand through his hair; his tell.
Heart?!
“Jack,” I shoot up straighter in my seat. “You’re only thirty-three! Why is he worried about your heart?”
I’m still trying to play it cool and not be dramatic on the outside for Jack’s benefit, but my inner crazy is rushing around the inside of my head gearing up for the apocalypse.
What the hell is going on with his heart? We eat healthy (for the most part), he works out…
“He’s not,” he shakes his head as if to say ‘relax’. “It’s just so he can rule it out, check it off the list of possibilities,” he makes a slashing motion with his hand.
“What other possibilities are there?”
“Well… okay, so he didn’t name any others…”
“So it pretty muchisyour heart,” I wave a hand before letting it drop in my lap.
“Sweetheart,” he lovingly grumbles as he turns more my way and pulls me closer. “There’s seriously nothing to worry about here. I’ll bet you anything my bloodwork will come back and it’ll say I’m deficient in some protein or nutrient and will have to take vitamins or something. Now please stop worrying, that’s not what you need right now. Okay?”
Oh my God, this jackass goes and knocks me up and then goes and develops a heart condition?! Well you can just knock it the hell off, buster, because I’m not going to raise this baby alone and I can’t lose my husband! My wonderful rock husband with the amazing heart that’s… what’s happening to it anyway? Is it enlarged? Is it failing? Is he slowly having a heart attack right now as we speak?! This can’t be happening! He’s too young and I can NOT rename the blog Rock Widow!
“Okay,” I sweetly nod. “You’re right, I’m sure you’re fine,” I concede as I start shifting my legs off him and stand off the couch.
“Where you going?” he asks.
“Just to the bathroom,” I say, trying to sound upbeat.
“Are you sick again?” The concern comes back to his voice as he stands and starts to follow me.
“No, no, I’m fine,” I glance over my shoulder and hold a gentle hand up to stop him. “Just need a minute!”