“You don’t sound fine.”
Argh. Is he kidding?
“Are you feeling nauseated?”
Am I looking green? Is that why he’s been staring at me like that? “I’m fine. Really.” This didn’t sound as good as earlier.
Maybe you shouldn’t have said it between gritted teeth.
He studies me for a moment. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Okay. Can you turn off the light?” I say.
“Yeah.” He hits the switches on the control panel on the stand next to his bed.
The room plunges into darkness.
I lie there. Sleep eludes me. I count. Then I think about sheep. Lots and lots of sheep. Then I count the flock. It doesn’t work, though. It only makes me think of that Silence of the Lambs movie. Much as I admire Anthony Hopkins, him as Hannibal Lecter isn’t very relaxing.
I start to turn, then I note Edgar isn’t sleeping either. His breathing is too shallow for slumber. Besides, I can sense palpable tension radiating from him.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper. It sounds much louder in the dark.
“Nothing,” he says. “Go to sleep, Jo.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I pause for a moment. Maybe it’s the intimacy of the dark, but my filter quits working.
“About the advantages to living together… I can’t seem to fall asleep, even though a good night’s sleep seems to be all I’m getting.”
The moment all the words leave my mouth, I want to smack my forehead. Why am I doing my best to project a needy nympho? Him seeing my apartment wasn’t enough?
Edgar reaches out. Runs a hand along my hair.
I close my eyes and sigh. It feels so good.
“I’d rather not do anything that might put you and the baby at risk.”
“What do you mean?” I say, surprised.
“I want to wait until we see Dr. Silverman.”
I tense. Is he expecting a problem? As far as I know, my side of the family is healthy as a horse. But his family might not be.
“I’m not saying that you’ll have issues,” he adds, “but it’s always best to be on the safe side.”
That’s so sweet. I start to relax. Then, since I hate to sleep separated, even though we’re in same bed and because it’s dark and I feel like whatever I’m doing now doesn’t—and shouldn’t—count, I inch closer until he pulls me into his arms.
Sighing quietly, I relax against his body heat and scent.
Then, as I start to slip into sleep, I imagine him whispering, “I know why you’re like this, and I’m going to change that in the upcoming months.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Edgar