Desiree was laying down on the bed, her head propped against the pillows. One of her hands was resting protectively on her stomach as Roman hovered beside the bed like a restless shadow.

Her eyes followed his movements, watching him as he paced once, stopped, turned back, then leaned down to adjust the blanket for the third time in five minutes.

“Roman,” she said softly, amusement and tenderness dancing around her face, and her tone. “You’re going to give a hole into the floor.”

He ...