chapter 144
Elena's POV:
When I woke sometime before dawn, Sebastian's breathing against my neck was too controlled, too measured. He was awake.
"Can't sleep either?" I whispered, not wanting to fully break the quiet of our bedroom.
His arms tightened fractionally around me. "Just thinking."
I shifted slightly, trying to see his face in the darkness, but the movement sent a sharp pain through my lower back. A small gasp escaped before I could stop it.
"Easy," he murmured, his hands immediately moving to support me better. "Tell me where it hurts."
"Everywhere," I admitted with a rueful laugh. "I feel like a beached whale."
"We won't go through this again," he murmured against my hair. "I won't put you through this kind of suffering anymore."
I'd learned to read Sebastian's moods like a familiar book over these months. The way his thumb traced absent patterns on my skin, the slight tension in his shoulders – something was bothering him.
"What's really keeping you awake?" I asked softly.
For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then: "Just business. Nothing for you to worry about."
"You'd tell me if it was something important?" The words came out slurred with approaching sleep.
"Always," he said, and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "Sleep now. You need your rest."
I wanted to argue, to stay awake and coax whatever was troubling him into the open. But pregnancy had made my body a traitor to my intentions. Within minutes, I was drifting again, Sebastian's careful breathing the last thing I registered.
---
When morning came properly, sunlight filtering through our bedroom curtains, I found myself alone in bed. But something about the careful way the covers had been tucked around me, the way his pillow still held the shape of his head, told me he hadn't been gone long.
I struggled upright, one hand pressed to my back, the other cradling my belly. The baby was active this morning, rolling and stretching in ways that made me wince.
"I know, little one," I murmured. "Not much room left in there."
My phone showed it was past ten – later than I usually slept. A message from Luna waited on the screen: Hope you're feeling better today. Rose is bringing by those herbs she mentioned.
Strange how quickly life could shift.
Just weeks ago at my birthday party, Luna and Rose had been polite strangers, circling each other with the careful distance of people. But something had clicked between them that night.
Now they texted each other daily, met for coffee, and had pulled me into their little circle of warmth.
By the time I made it downstairs, having managed to shower and dress in something other than Sebastian's clothes, he was in his study on a call. I could hear his voice through the partially open door – low, controlled, but with an edge that spoke of carefully contained anger.
"—don't care what it takes. I want every detail about their movements—" He stopped abruptly, and I realized he must have heard me in the hallway. "We'll continue this later."
When he emerged from the study, his expression was perfectly composed, but I'd seen the flash of something darker before he'd smoothed it away.
"You're up," he said, crossing to me immediately. His hands went to my waist, steadying me. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm smuggling a soccer team," I said, trying for levity. "What was that about?"
"Nothing important. Have you eaten?"
The deflection again. I frowned, studying his face. "Sebastian, what's going on? And don't say business. You don't get that angry over ordinary deals."
He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on my hip. When he spoke, his voice was carefully measured. "There are some people making inquiries they shouldn't. It's being handled."
"Inquiries about what? About us?"
He hesitated, something flickering across his face – concern, calculation, protectiveness all warring for dominance. Then he pulled me into his arms, careful of my belly between us.
When he didn't immediately deny it, cold unease settled in my stomach. "Sebastian, if—"
"Trust me to handle this," he said against my hair. "Please?"
I could only nod against his chest. I knew Sebastian's capabilities, had seen firsthand how thoroughly he could neutralize threats. And as my hand moved instinctively to my swollen belly, I reminded myself that worrying would accomplish nothing.
My first priority was bringing this baby safely into the world.
"Okay," I whispered, letting myself lean into his strength. "I trust you."
After breakfast, I found myself in the bathroom, lifting my shirt to examine my belly in the mirror.
The religious application of oils seemed to be working – still no stretch marks, despite how impossibly stretched my skin appeared. I ran my fingers over the taut surface, remembering something I'd read online about genetics playing a major role. Some women were just lucky, the article had said. It all depended on your mother.
My mother.
The thought stopped me cold. I tried to summon her face, but the image that came was hazy, like looking through frosted glass. How was it possible that I could remember her laugh, the way she smelled like lavender and paint, but not the exact shape of her eyes or the curve of her smile?
I took a deep breath, hearing Dr. Klein's voice in my head from our recent sessions. Acknowledge the feeling, then gently redirect. I'd gotten better at this over the past weeks – recognizing when grief was pulling me under and finding my way back to the surface.
"It's okay to wonder," I whispered to my reflection, then consciously relaxed my shoulders. "But I don't have to live there."
A knock on the bedroom door interrupted my thoughts. "Mrs. Vane?" Alfred's familiar voice called. "I have a message for you."
I quickly smoothed down my shirt and opened the door. Alfred stood there with his usual impeccable posture.
"Master Nicholas has sent word," he said. "He's having a birthday gathering in three days and specifically requested both your and Mr. Sebastian's presence."
Nicholas. I mentally calculated – I was already past eight months pregnant. "Three days from now?"
"Yes, madam. Shall I convey your response?"
I hesitated, one hand unconsciously moving to my lower back where a persistent ache had taken up residence. The idea of getting dressed up and socializing when I could barely waddle to the kitchen seemed daunting.
"I'll... I'll discuss it with Sebastian first," I said finally. "Thank you, Alfred."