“We should call the doctor.” He put his fingers back on my wrist, feeling for my pulse.
“No, I think I’m—”
“Just in case.” He stood and then lifted me off the ground.
“What the hell?” I yelped.
“Relax, we’re going upstairs.” He carried me, and put me on the couch with more water, and then ran around getting me food and calling the advice line at the doctor’s office, frowning the entire time and with his forehead creased.
“That was useless,” he ranted after he hung up. “We need to be able to speak directly to the doctor, not some service. We should go to the emergency room.” He grabbed his keys.
“No. No way.” I swung my legs off the couch. “I was probably hungry and maybe dehydrated from all the stupid crying I’ve been doing. I’m totally better.” I started to get up.
“Where do you think you’re going right now?” He loomed next to the couch.
“I want to take a shower. I’m gross.”
César knelt down in front of me. He took my face in his palms and frowned harder, studying me. “You’re still pale. No, I don’t want you climbing the stairs.”
I put my own hands on his shoulders, feeling his tense muscles. Now I understood—he thought something was wrong with his daughter. “César, the baby is ok. She was just kicking. She’s been moving around this whole time!” I took his hand and put it on my stomach so he could feel. “See? You don’t need to worry about her.”
“I’m worried about both of you. Jesus, Camdyn, you scare me sometimes. What would have happened if you had been alone? Maybe you should have a companion.”
“Like, a babysitter?” I laughed a little. “I don’t think so. I’ll be more careful about drinking water and that should do it.”
He looked into my face for another moment, clearly unconvinced. “Do you really want to go upstairs?” he asked, and I nodded. “Ok, come on.” Up I went again in his arms, and this time, I wasn’t too worried and distracted to enjoy being snuggled against his skin. I put my head on his shoulder and enjoyed the brief trip to my bedroom.
“I’m going to wait out here while you shower. I want you to sit on the edge of the tub, don’t stand. Got it?” he asked, and every few minutes he called through the door to see if I was ok. When I came out, he was looking at another of Soleil’s old bags of papers and pictures, one that had spilled when I had been rushing through my room trying to get dressed for work.
“You ok?” he questioned. But then his eyes strayed over me, over the towel and my dripping body.
“Yes, great,” I said. But I did start to breathe harder, with the way his eyes seemed to burn.
The doorbell rang downstairs. “Shit!” César exclaimed. “I forgot about those guys coming here. Goddamn Jory stole the gate code so they let themselves in. He and Gunnar and I were going out, but…”
“Go ahead,” I told him. “I’m really fine.” I hesitated. “Or, actually, maybe you guys could hang out here.” I thought that I wouldn’t mind him around tonight. I was staying very calm so he wouldn’t worry, but that episode in the gym had scared me, too.
His eyes strayed over me again. “I’ll be right back. Don’t come downstairs by yourself.”
I got dressed and waited patiently. This time, when he came to fetch me, he didn’t carry me. We walked down together with my body clamped against his. “Ok? How about now?” he asked at least at every other step.
Jory and Gunnar were already lounging in our family room, arguing about what was on TV. “Hi, make yourselves at home,” I suggested, and Gunnar sat up. Jory didn’t seem to have the same ideas of social acceptability that his friend did, and remained on his back, taking up 100 percent of the huge couch. He was a giant.
“Jory, move,” César told him sharply. “That’s where Camdyn is going.” He fussed over me, putting a blanket around my legs like I was 90 years old.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jory asked me. “You sick?”
“She’s pregnant,” César snapped back. “We’re having a baby.”
Jory just stared, but Gunnar got a huge smile and jumped up out of the chair where César had exiled him. “Seriously? Oh man, congratulations!” He threw his arms around César and lifted him into the air, cracking his back. “How far along are you?” he asked me, and we had a very detailed conversation while César ordered dinner and took a shower himself. Apparently, Gunnar had four older sisters and seven nephews and nieces, and he knew way more about pregnancy and babies than I did. I ended up asking him a lot of questions, while Jory just sat looking horrified.
“Are you ok?” César asked me again after we’d had dinner and settled back on the couch. It had to have been the jillionth time those words had left his mouth. “Did you get enough to eat? Do you want more water?”
Gunnar grinned but Jory shushed him. We were at a good part in the movie they had chosen, where the busty phlebotomist in the spike heels was about to save the world. She licked her lips at the camera and looked attractively scared.
“I’m fine,” I whispered to César. But then I yawned.
“I’ll take you up to bed,” he said immediately, which would have sounded sexy except his face totally read, “This is a mercy thing and not an invitation,” and also, I was wearing his PJ bottoms. They weren’t meant for sexy moments, not at all.
“I don’t want to go up to bed quite yet,” I protested. “It’s only eight o’clock and I’m—”
Mid-sentence, César lifted me off my end of the couch and placed me on his lap. “Shh,” he said when I started to speak, and he pointed at the screen. “She’s going to go kick some zombie ass right
