Coming home after a long day of work to the knowledge that Harry is not only in Scotland but also in my home is a balm to my soul. Before entering, I stomp around outside to clear my feet of the snow, watching as my pups copy my movements, knocking some of the white stuff off their golden feet. I step inside to a warm and cosy kitchen with the smell of roast wafting in the air.

My stomach growls. "Shhhh, little one. You just ate an entire tin of homemade biscuits from Mrs. Greig." We'd been out checking the Greigs' herd of sheep for hoof rot, finding none thankfully. The biscuits had served as both lunch and snack since I'd done an unscheduled house call for Tawny, Mrs. Pomfrey's no-longer–and-actually-never pregnant cat.

"Since you spayed the both of them, they've been a delight in the house," Mrs. Pomfrey had reported about Tawny and the new kitten, Delilah, "and Tawny doesn't wander around outside much at all."

Breathing deeply of the scents, I listen for where Harry might be in the house, but there's silence. His vehicle is still outside, but perhaps he's gone for a walk over to Ellis' or to the church to play the piano. Not gonna lie. The memory of him leaving when Ellis and Jamie returned haunts me a little.

Might as well take a shower. No need to put in my cervical cap – both because it's unlikely there will be any sex, but also because it's really rare for humans to get pregnant when they're already carrying a child. Then again, it wouldn't surprise me if I were one of those rare cases. As the dogs curl up on the floor in front of the fire Harry has lit, I climb the stairs, my weariness from the first trimester no longer weighing me down.

Entering my bedroom, I find Harry curled up on my bed, his shoes on the floor nearby. Catching my breath, I can't help but observe him. His arms are crossed, and I wonder if he's cold. His socks are from his own merchandise, featuring "Treat People" on one foot and "With Kindness" on the other. His facial hair has grown in again, and it looks like he's keeping it trim. It makes me smile to see it, although I'd prefer it were gone. The spot in between his eyes that can get wrinkly and drawn when he's frustrated, emotional, or thinking deeply is smooth now, and I want to reach out and run my thumb across the delicate skin. His hands are devoid of rings, and it makes him look vulnerable, unguarded. That damn hair clip is holding back his bangs, and I desperately want to remove it and allow his curly locks to fall forward, but I daren't as I'm sure it would wake him.

I wonder if our child will have his fluttery eyelashes or delicate lips. Perhaps our kid will be able to sing like its daddy or laugh fully and completely when something strikes it as funny. Will they have a smile that lights up the whole room? A sense of fashion that further blurs the lines society has set? An English accent or a Scottish one?

When he stirs, I realise I've been watching him well beyond a reasonable length of time. One eye fluttering open, he focuses immediately on me.

"Hi." It's cute – both his husky voice and the single word.

"Hi," I return shyly.

"Checking me out?" He smirks, and my knickers catch on fire and melt from my body. Metaphorically of course. I remain fully clothed.

"No," I scoff, but we both know I'm lying. "You're going to be a great dad," I announce, as though there was doubt in anyone's mind other than his.

An inscrutable expression passes over his features, and he grimaces, "Not like I have a choice."

"Ouch." My lower lip juts out in a pout.

Immediately, he's chagrined, sitting up in the bed and reaching for me. I allow him to pull me to his lap where I settle sideways on his thighs, my shoulder near his heart.

"That's not what I meant." His voice is soft, and he brushes aside my wild mane of curls to kiss the sunken spot of skin between my neck and collarbone. "There is no part of me that is disappointed that we're in this situation. None. It's more that the world's expectations of me as a father will be such that no matter what I do, my parenting will either be the best ever or the worst ever." He nuzzles his nose at the juncture of my shoulder and arm. "We've got so many plans to make, Anna, and I wish they were all going to be fun like choosing which shade of pink for the nursery –"

"Hey!" I interrupt, giggling.

"-- but some of them are going to be things like how we'll keep the world from photographing our child. Or how I'm going to keep you both safe from stalkers."

Grasping his face in between my thumb and forefinger, I twist his face to mine. "I know you're trying to be realistic, and I love –" Oops, almost said 'you'! "-- that you want to protect us. But you can't always be around."

"Truth." He shakes his head. "I think dinner is past done, so if we don't eat soon, it will get either too dry or too soggy. How about you grab your shower? You smell like..."

"Sheep poo?"

His smile is gentle like his tone. "Something like that."

"Just what a girl wants to hear from her baby daddy," I giggle as I rise, but he grabs my hand.

"Anna –"

"Harry?"

He stares at me for a solid 30 seconds, his eyes roaming my face before he sighs. "Never mind. Go shower. I'll meet you downstairs."

Standing, he sidesteps me, and I watch as he makes his way to the door before he turns to me. "Um...sorry for sleeping in your bed. You only have one extra room, and it's full of everything except a bed."

"Yes," I admit. "Sorry about that."

The sun has set so all I see is his silhouette lit from the light on the stairs as he shakes his head. "It's fine. I just – do you want me to sleep at Ellis' house while I'm here?"

The revulsion that passes through my body at his suggestion is swift and extreme – and makes no sense. But I respond to it with my words, "No. You can sleep here. I promise not to attack you in your sleep."

Sensing rather than seeing his smile, I shiver at his words, casually thrown over his shoulder as he turns from me. "I make no similar vow."

The words haunt me as I purposely use the coldest water setting to wash the grime of the day from my body. Stepping onto the bath mat, I dry off, noticing that he's unpacked some toiletries. The familiarity of seeing his things here gives me goose pimples. Or perhaps that's just the cold breeze on my naked skin.

Dressing in my least sexy, but warmest, flannel pyjamas, I slide socks onto my feet. Lately I have been practically frozen at night as my body slows down while ensuring the foetus is warm. During the day I sweat almost constantly. Just another annoying side effect of my current condition.

Wandering downstairs, I'm greeted by the sexy sight of a man wearing an apron and holding two plates of roast.

"Ooooohhhh," I coo, quickening my pace to sit at the table across from him.

"Drink?"

"Water please. I crave it these days."

Harry smiles, and it's the one that conveys how proud he is of his ability to unwittingly get me in this condition. I can't help but return it. Soon, my water glass and Harry in front of me, I dive into the meal, barely pausing to smell the food and definitely not savouring each bite.

"Hungry?" The popstar asks.

"Famished." My reply is honest, but I slow down my food intake anyway, aware of how I must look.

"So I was thinking..."

"About?"

"All of it. Mostly, I have been contemplating the press piece of it. Word will get out soon now that your employees at the clinic know, and the rumours will start flying."

"Yes," I sigh.

"I've talked to my management and my public relations firm, and we've agreed not to make a public statement. But it will come up in promo when I do these radio and television interviews." He winces. "I wish it weren't the case, babe, but..." When he raises and lowers his shoulders, I can tell that it weighs him down.

I also get tingles from the pet name, but I firmly ignore those.

"We're going to practise some responses that indicate how proud I am to be joining the fatherhood ranks, but I won't mention you by name. My publicist will attempt to add in some restrictions about the mother of my child – which happens to be you – but that doesn't mean people won't ask. I'll simply say that it's a private matter."

"Not that the speculation will stop."

"True. I just –" He winces.

"What?"

"I want the music to be the topic of discussion."

"Ah yes. Your other baby."

"Oh! That's good. Mind if I use it?"

"Use whatever is of benefit."

"I – It might get bad, Anna. People can be cruel when their fantasies get challenged. I'd like to hire a bodyguard for you."

Instantly, my hackles raise, and I feel defensive. "What? No. I don't need a bodyguard, Harry. This town is so small that anyone like that would stand out. And whoever you hire would have to go with me out to farms and – no. It would be weird."

The sound that escapes as he draws in a deep breath and releases it all at once is that of a tire whooshing as it rolls over a giant row of tacks. He closes his eyes and breathes again. "I figured you would say that, so I'll park the idea for now. But if you change your mind or if I feel we need to talk about it more, I reserve the right to bring the topic up for discussion again."

"Besides," I add, "I'll have a bodyguard of sorts."

"Huh?" He takes a bite of potato.

I hadn't planned to share this news yet, not knowing how he would react, but it seems I've already opened my mouth. "Um, I've made arrangements with the uni in Glasgow to hire one of their students as an intern."

"You did? How can you afford an intern? I thought your next step was increasing the hours for Kai and Cara."

"Well, my dad helped me get a grant to pay for part of it." I bite my lip, setting down my fork and taking a sip of water. "I can't help with the lambing season this year. Or the calving season. Or anything related to animal pregnancies."

"What? Who said that? I'll have a talk with them. We'll get this straightened out. That's so unfair."

I have to stifle the laugh that threatens to burst forth at his earnestness. Placing a hand on his arm, I force him to make eye contact. "No, no. You don't understand, Harry. It's for safety. There's a high risk of infection if I'm around livestock during their birthing season."

"Oh. Well that's not good. Maybe you shouldn't be working with animals at all until the baby comes."

Refraining from rolling my eyes, I smile gently at him. "You're frightened, and I understand that, but I'll be okay – and so will our bean –" I place a hand on my belly. "-- as long as I'm not around during the lambing or calving seasons. So I need someone who can handle that part of the workload."

"I see." His consternation fights for dominance over his anxiety until he gives in. "Do I need to chip in money to pay for this person?"

"Absolutely not." I'm stubborn about this. It's my business, and I'll make it work even while I'm pregnant. "I can offer less pay if I provide a place for this veterinary student to stay as well as meals while they're here."

"Ah, so she'll sleep upstairs in that guest room that doesn't have a bed?"

"I'll get a bed." Feeling frustrated at his questions, I remind myself that he's got a right to ask. "It's not a big deal, Harry. I just need some additional help for the next few months. In fact, I'm interviewing some candidates tomorrow."

"Good. I'll help."

Confused, I tilt my head at him. Help with what? "You mean, you want to be part of the interviews?"

"Yes."

"Well that won't be weird at all. 'Hi, welcome to McInroy's Veterinary Clinic. This is my baby daddy, the famous pop star Harry Styles.'"

"Ugh." His exasperation is close to the surface, and I wonder how to change the subject. "Normally, I would be opposed to that scenario for many reasons – most notably that it's your practice. I feel... a responsibility to you, Anna, and to our daughter."

"Harry..."

"Don't pick on me about her gender, Anna. I can't think of her any other way."

"Oh, Harry. I don't want you to be disappointed."

He sits up straighter in his chair, his fork clattering to the table. "Why would I be disappointed? Did you do another ultrasound and find out the gender?"

"No, Harry. I promised I'd do all of my doctor's appointments with you if you could be here, and we agreed not to find out the gender until it's born."

"Ah. Okay then."

"I just don't want you to have your heart set on a girl and out pops a handsome boy with your dimples and my hair."

"I'd still love him, but..." Shyly, he looks away before looking back at me, "I'm doubling down. It's a girl, Anna. I just know it."

Placating him, I smile. "If you say so..."

He shakes his finger at me. "Don't do that!"

"Harry!" I laugh. "If you think it's a girl, I'm not going to argue with you anymore. But don't expect me to be onboard with buying a bunch of pink clothing."

"Pink is the colour of rock and roll, I'll have you know."

This time, I don't even try to resist, I simply laugh out loud. "Fair. Okay, you can buy pink clothing if you want. Colour doesn't need to represent any gender."

His face is tender as he watches me. "I'll be here for interviews, Anna. I just won't show myself. We'll set up a screen or something so I can hear them."

"Because you'll know a good vet when you hear them?"

"No, because I'll be able to recognize who will be able to protect you."

"Earlier you said 'she' would move into the extra bedroom. But what if it's a male vet student?"

"Then HE better have a girlfriend, boyfriend, or wife before moving in here."

"Mhm. I see that jealousy peeking through."

"Anna..." His voice has a warning tone.

Rising, I start collecting the dishes. "You can help me clean out that room tomorrow, though. The bed is being delivered in a couple of days, and I had roped Blair in, but she'll be relieved to not have to clean anything."

His eyes follow me, and I wonder what he's thinking. Finally, he stands and moves to the sink next to me. "I'll dry."

"Deal."

"But only because I want to get upstairs and find out..."

What? How many buttons on my pyjama top? Whether his hand can slide down my flannel bottoms? If my orgasms are still just below the surface?

"... how much stuff is in that room."

It's not disappointment that roils through me. Must be something in the roast that disagreed with the bean.