The final stretch of your pregnancy becomes absolute psychological warfare for everyone involved.

Especially Kayce.

Because Wyatt apparently inherits his father’s talent for keeping everybody on edge.

Every ache? Possible labor.

Every cramp? Possible labor.

Every time you go quiet for too long? Kayce appearing in doorways like a concerned ghost.

And the worst part is that you keep getting convinced too.

—

The first false alarm happens at two in the morning.

You wake with a sharp pain low in your back and immediately sit upright in bed with a startled noise.

Beside you, Kayce wakes instantly.

Years of military training apparently rewired the man permanently because he goes from dead asleep to fully alert in under a second.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you hiss, pressing your palm against your lower back. “Ow.”

That’s all it takes.

Kayce is out of bed immediately.

Lamp on. Boots half on. Keys somehow already in hand.

You’re still trying to process consciousness while he crouches beside you looking deeply serious.

“Contraction?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“How far apart?”

“It happened once, Kayce.”

“Okay.”

He says it calmly, but you can already see the panic trying to crawl up his spine.

Then another pain hits.

Stronger this time.

You suck in a breath sharply.

Kayce’s entire face changes.

“We’re going.”

“To where?”

“The hospital.”

“It’s one pain.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“That’s generally how this works.”

“Maggie.”

That tone.

Firm. Controlled. Nervous.

You almost laugh despite yourself.

Then your stomach makes a truly horrifying sound.

Both of you freeze.

“…oh no,” you whisper.

Kayce blinks.

You close your eyes briefly in shame.

“The beans,” you admit.

A long silence.

Then Kayce physically sits back against the mattress laughing into one hand while you glare at him with betrayal.

“You ate three bowls,” he manages.

“They were good beans.”

“You scared ten years off my life over baked beans.”

“You married into the Hawthorn family. This is your burden now.”

—

The back pain gets worse as the weeks go on.

Some nights it feels like Wyatt is trying to exit through your spine.

Kayce handles this by becoming aggressively attentive.

Too attentive.

You grunt while standing up once and suddenly he’s beside you.

“What do you need?”

“Nothing.”

“You made a sound.”

“I’m carrying a whole human being.”

“You sounded distressed.”

“I sounded pregnant.”

Still, he starts rubbing your lower back almost every evening without being asked.

Big warm hands working slow circles while you sit between his knees on the couch half asleep.

Sometimes Harley brushes your hair during it because she says: “It helps mom relax.”

And honestly?

It does.

One night you’re stretched across the couch trying not to cry from sheer discomfort while Kayce massages your back with quiet concentration.

Harley looks up from the floor where she’s coloring.

“When Wyatt gets here,” she says thoughtfully, “Mom deserves a prize.”

Kayce nods immediately. “Yeah she does.”

“A pony maybe.”

“A pony?”

“She worked hard.”

You laugh weakly into the cushion.

“I appreciate the support.”

Kayce presses a kiss against your shoulder absentmindedly before returning to your back.

“You’re doing good,” he murmurs.

The words hit harder than they should.

Because pregnancy feels strange sometimes.

Beautiful, yes. But also uncomfortable and exhausting and emotional in ways nobody fully explains beforehand.

Your body no longer entirely belongs to you.

Some days you feel radiant. Other days you cry because bending over requires strategic planning.

And through all of it, Kayce never once acts inconvenienced.

Not once.

—

The bathroom incidents become legendary.

Mostly because your cravings have absolutely no self-preservation involved.

You want sausage constantly. Barbecue. Beans. Spicy food.

At one point you eat enough baked beans at dinner that even Felix looks concerned.

“Maggie.”

“They’re good.”

“That amount seems medically dangerous.”

“You’re medically dangerous.”

Maxwell snorts into his drink.