I woke with a crick in my neck and a blanket I didn’t remember pulling over myself. The den lights had dimmed sometime in the night, the glow of my laptop screen long since gone black. For a moment, disoriented, I just blinked at the soft fabric pooled around me. It wasn’t mine. Too heavy, too warm, and it smelled faintly of cedar and smoke.
Damian.
The realization made my chest tighten. He must have found me here, slumped against the cushions with grant applications still open, and instead of snapping at me to take better care of myself, he’d... what? Tucked me in like a child? Like something… more?
I shook the thought off before it could dig too deep. Still, when I pressed a hand to my belly, the curve felt more real than ever. Four months. Almost halfway. And I still had nothing soli
