It was thick, made of heavy, cream-colored parchment.

He stared at it for a fraction of a second, his thumb tracing the sealed flap, before he quickly jammed it into the small, discreet zippered pocket on the side of her leather bag.

He zipped it shut with a sharp, metallic zip, and then, in a gesture that sent a cold spike of adrenaline straight through Erin’s veins, he pressed his hand flat over the closed pocket.

He held it there for a long moment, head bowed, as if he were trying to physically will the envelope to stay hidden, or perhaps offering a silent prayer over whatever words were locked inside it.

Erin’s mouth went dry.

She took a step forward, the toe of her slipper catching slightly on the threshold.

“Ben?”

The sound of his name in the quiet room hit him like a physical blow.

He jumped so violently he nearly knocked the heavy leather bag over, his knee skidding against the carpet.

He spun around, his eyes wide, his chest heaving as if he had just been caught committing a crime.

For one long, agonizing, incredibly strange second, neither of them spoke.

They just stared at each other across the expanse of the guest room.

The air between them felt thick, vibrating with the sudden, undeniable reality that a line had just been crossed.

Then, the mask slipped back into place.

Ben forced a smile, though his breathing was still ragged.

He stood up, wiping his palms on his thighs.

“Hey,” he breathed out, trying to inject a light, breezy tone into his voice.

“You’re supposed to be resting.

The doctor said keep your feet up.”

Erin didn’t smile back.

She didn’t move toward the bed.

Her eyes bypassed his face entirely and locked onto the small, zippered pocket on the side of her bag.

“What was that?” she asked.

Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it cut through the room with the sharpness of a scalpel.

Ben shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive posture he rarely used with her.

The forced smile vanished, replaced by a tight, unreadable expression.

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

Too quickly.

“Nothing doesn’t usually come in heavy, sealed, cream-colored envelopes, Ben.”

He took a step away from the bag, moving toward the window, putting physical distance between himself and the evidence.

“It’s not a big deal, Erin.

Just… just some paperwork.”

It was the absolute worst thing he could have possibly said.

When a woman is mere days away from bringing a human life into the world, her mind is no longer operating on standard logic.

She is fiercely protective, fiercely vulnerable, heavily sleep-deprived, and drowning in a cocktail of hormones that makes every emotion feel like life or death.

She is already carrying the crushing weight of a thousand silent fears: Will the baby be healthy?