Code Name: Solace

CHAPTER TWO

"Your blood pressure is a bit elevated. Are you having trouble relaxing?"

Dr. Lee's voice was gentle but firm. She always had a way of making me feel both comforted and exposed. Before medical school, she had been a doula, and it showed—she knew exactly where to press, both physically and emotionally.

I hesitated, then offered a small, strained smile. "I guess you could say that. I have a lot on my mind lately."

She nodded, scribbling something on my chart. "I want to give you a few techniques for relaxation—things you and your husband can do together."

The suggestion made my throat tighten. I turned away, blinking fast, but the tears still threatened to spill over. "Okay," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated. "Do you have the support you need, Mrs. Solace?"

I swallowed hard. I could lie. But she'd know. There were women who had their husbands beside them at every appointment, fingers laced together, whispers of excitement passing between them. Meanwhile, Warren had come to one. Just one.

"He's busy," I said quickly. "It's okay."

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded anyway. "Well, he needs to take some time to assist you. If not, you'll be on bed rest before long."

The door opened, and the sonographer stepped in. Together, they prepped me for the scan, spreading the cold gel across my stomach.

"Strong heartbeat," Dr. Lee murmured, smiling.

I exhaled in relief, the sound of my baby's life filling the small room. My child was thriving. My child, at least, was safe. Tears welled up again, this time for an entirely different reason.

"The placenta is a bit low," she continued. "If you're sexually active, I'd suggest avoiding penetrative sex for two weeks just to be safe."

I almost laughed. She didn't need to worry about that. Nothing had been happening in that department.

I nodded. "Okay."

"Any concerns?"

I hesitated before asking, "Could that be why my back has been aching more lately?"

She nodded. "That could be part of it. But it's also common to experience back and abdominal pain around this time as your body adjusts."

"Okay."

"I'll give you some exercises to help manage the pain."

That night, the house was quiet. Unbearably so.

The ultrasound pictures sat on the kitchen table, untouched. A silent offering, a small piece of our child, waiting for Warren to notice.

He wouldn't.

I showered, letting the hot water pummel my back, but it did little to ease the tension. When I emerged, wrapped in a towel, Warren was still in his office. The same place he always was.

I curled up in bed with a book. The romance wasn't helping—if anything, it made the ache in my chest worse. I read about men who worshiped their wives, who touched them with reverence, who listened. My fingers twitched against the pages.

Eventually, I heard him moving. The soft creak of the door, the heavy steps across the floor. He wasn't coming to bed, though.

I tiptoed after him, drawn by something I couldn't name.

The bathroom light was on, the door slightly ajar. Through the gap, I saw him.

He was leaning against the shower wall, water cascading down his broad, tattooed back. His head was bowed, his jaw clenched. And his hand—