Sage

69

I bounce on the yoga ball, my hands on my thighs and bare feet on the floor of Harry's office as he sets his work phone down with a quiet click before sifting through a stack of papers. I watch as he peers over his glasses with furrowed brows before punching another number to call. He leans back in his chair with a heavy sigh before lifting his gaze to me in a double take.

Shooting me a thumbs up with raised brows, Harry silently asks if I'm okay. I can't help but smile a little as I shoot one back, watching his lips upturn into a slight smirk. It only lasts a few moments before the person on the other end of the line answers, and his smile is replaced with an annoyed scoff. He seems done with the conversation already.

I expected to spend the day rewashing onesies and freaking out to Jenny about Dr. Lyon's news (that her Goddaughter would be here sooner than expected), but Harry had other plans. For the first time, he insisted I come to work with him. We came straight from the doctor's office, stopping at Chiptole of course, and then here.

It was only for a couple of hours while he rushed through meetings and made phone calls to have the next few weeks to work from home in preparation for our baby's arrival. I had a yoga ball and chipotle, plus I got to watch work-Harry in his natural habitat, which was pretty interesting to see.

He's a totally different person. There are no smiles or friendly greetings, just cold nods and eye rolls to anyone who doesn't seem to be serving him what he wants at the exact moment. He likes to call me a diva, but he's the literal embodiment of one. He walks into every room like he's the shit because he is.

It's kind of hot.

I don't mind sitting here. When his two o clock meeting begins, he'll be just down the hall, and I'm free to lounge on the soft plush couch in the corner of his sleek office. Until then, I take the advice from the Youtube blogs I've watched and continue to bounce on this ball. It's supposed to help blood flow to my cervix, encouraging dilation. My labor is right around the corner, and I don't know if I'm just over this entire pregnancy, but I'm welcoming it with open arms, and I'm willing to try just about anything to get it pushing.

When my legs begin to ache, I decide to rest for a minute.

"Move Jameson to a virtual appointment next Wednesday, and make sure all the tracks are emailed in zip files," Harry mutters into the phone, sketching something down with his pencil. He suddenly pauses and furrows his thick brows, "What do you mean the tracks aren't finished?"

I make my way off of the yoga ball and toward him, watching as his eyes follow me while trying to stay attentive to the call. Still, he spins the chair  a little, reaching out one hand to help me onto his lap, already knowing what I planned to do. I'm honestly surprised that he never cares about my weight on his single thigh. Instead, he always embraces it. Sometimes he even begs me to sit atop him, pleasing his sparkling green eyes no matter how much I try to warn him I'll break his lanky leg.

I secretly think it's his way of showing me the weight I've been gaining doesn't bother him.

I smile a little at the thought, wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my cheek on his head. He moves a few things from his desk, the first being a leather notebook that he tosses into a drawer and immediately shuts with my knee, making me the slightest curious, but I ignore the feeling.

His hand comes around my back to rub gentle circles, the other placing the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could write something else I couldn't hear. When that doesn't seem to work, he sets the phone down and pushes a button, allowing a voice to cut in now that they were on speaker.

"-And you know how backed up those things get," The airy voice of a woman spoke.

"Mhm," Harry grunts abesentmindedly, scribbling sometthing on the paper. I lift my head when he slides it to me and taps it with the edge of his pencil, grinning up at me with expectant eyes.