“I’m shaken but fine.” She stroked her dog’s ears. “We need to think through how to spin this because the photos are going to be all over the internet before we even step back out.” She glanced down at Paige. “Settle, pup-pup, settle.”
The dog whined, tugging away from Isabeau, so unlike what Trystan had seen from the highly trained service dog. “What’s going on?”
“I’m honestly not sure. Paige is giving the alert for diabetes, but I really don’t think there’s an issue for me right now.”
Trystan shifted restlessly from boot to boot. “Should you check your blood sugar, to be safe?”
“I will, I will.” Her forehead furrowed, and Trystan slid a bracing arm around her waist. “She’s usually so focused on me. The only time I’ve seen her do this was back in the early days together. I was at a doctor’s appointment, and she alerted to an older lady right before she suffered from diabetic shock—”
Naomi gasped, pressing her fingers to her lips, her other hand on her stomach.
Royce was by her side immediately, hand around her waist. “What is it?”
Naomi paled, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Paige was barking at me—”
Her words grew slower and slower, stretching out as if she were reaching for thoughts, for even the ability to speak, until she went completely still, pale and confused.
And ill.
* * *
Back at the compound in Naomi’s old suite, Royce opened the fridge door, searching for fruit. He pulled out raspberry and mint leaves, placing them next to the small bowl filled with oranges.
He’d always been a man of routines, particularly in moments of stress and uncertainty. And damn. The events of the last twenty-four hours had pushed his limits, trying his well-tuned strategies. Starting with the oil malfunction and ending with his fiancée passing out after the altercation at the protest.
Protectiveness mobilized his movements after Naomi had zoned out. He’d barely registered the ride to the ER. He couldn’t forget what the doctor had said. Naomi had gestational diabetes and needed bed rest to ensure her health and the health of the baby.
Pulling out a cutting board from the small kitchenette in Naomi’s loft apartment in the Steele compound, Royce focused on what he could control. Like slicing perfectly sectioned oranges to add to the glass of ice water for Naomi.
The knife glided through the skin of the fruit, juice gathering on the cutting board, stinging the scratches on his hands from working on models as he continued to think through better safety features for the oil refining process.
He added two orange slices, four raspberries and a few mint leaves to the glass. Wanting to do more for Naomi. Knowing that she had reacted poorly to the news about bed rest. One of the reasons he adored her was for her streak of independence, her ability to take care of herself.
But the gestational diabetes scared the hell out of him.
The concern over her health and the twins’ health took him back in time. To his former fiancée and her miscarriage. How she’d walked away. He’d lost everything. The pain of that breakup had haunted him ever since.
Losing Naomi?
The thought was more than he could bear.
He shuffled toward where Naomi stretched out on the sofa. Nerves pulled at him and he was careful not to spill the fruit infused water.
He wanted to make everything easier for her. But he tried not to drive her crazy by hovering. Though if he had to be honest, he was halfway to going crazy too being stuck in this house full of Steeles and Mikkelsons.
So. Many. Damn. People.
Naomi slumped deeper into the sofa, tossing a magazine back on the coffee table. “Bed rest for gestational diabetes. Seriously.” She reached down to pet their Saint Bernard, Tessie, sprawled on the floor by the couch. “I’m going to lose my mind.”
“No, you’re not.” He gave her the glass of water and moved the remote control closer to her reach. “I’ll keep you entertained.”
“I enjoy you, don’t get me wrong, but just the two of us—and Tessie—24/7? You may enjoy the life of a recluse, but it’s not my cup of tea, at all.” She took a deep gulp of water.
He stifled a wince at her grouchiness. Her frustration was understandable and she had to be scared. He just wished she hadn’t mentioned how damn different they were, something that had been bugging him more than he wanted to admit.
“You have more family than anyone I’ve ever seen. Maybe you and your dad can share recliners in the sun.”
She rolled her eyes, rubbing her stomach slowly. “I’m not sure the world is ready for both of us to be tied down in the same place.”
He chuckled softy. “Valid point.”
Sighing with resignation, she said, “Go hibernate at work. Really. I’ll be fine.”
“I can work here.” He forced an easy smile, even as the walls closed in on him. He gravitated toward the wall of windows showcasing the Alaska landscape...mountains, water, seclusion. He turned back to Naomi. “You might need something.”
“I have a phone, along with a houseful of family and staff. I will be fine.”
“But you’re my fiancée.”
“Then let’s go to your place.”
His place? Wasn’t it their place?
“No...” He shook his head. “You’re right that it’s safer to be here at your father’s compound, closer to town.”
“I could be stuck like this until the babies are born. You would really live in the middle of all this chaos?” she asked, shock and disbelief stamped all over her beautiful face. “All these people?”
“For you. Yes.” He meant it too, even knowing it wouldn’t be easy. Already he was itchy, mentally listing places he could hole up on his own.
“But it’s not in your comfort zone.”
“It’s not forever.” He wouldn’t let himself think about the idea of his isolated home making her feel as stir-crazy as this place made him. “Your health and the health of these baby girls is top
