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It felt right.
I wasn’t going through this alone.
He was here…
“Has the bleeding slowed any?” Dr. Marroni asked the ER doc.
“Actually, yes,” I said at the same time the ER doc, Dr. Kinsler, answered. “No, but it hasn’t gotten heavier either.”
I pinched my lips together, trying not to contradict her.
Dr. Marroni nodded. “Okay, I’ll take it from here. Thanks, Kins.”
‘Kins’ left, leaving us with the doctor who pulled over the same machine they’d used earlier to give me an ultrasound.
“Since your pregnancy was so early, we probably won’t be able to see anything on the ultrasound doing it over the belly,” she said. “But we’re wanting to see the uterus, mainly, so this’ll do.”
I felt sick to my stomach.
I hadn’t realized that I’d wanted a child.
I mean, why would I want to bring a child into a life where I couldn’t be with his or her father because my brother was a freakin’ gang leader?
Yet, the utter devastation pouring through me in wracking waves was enough to make me wish, hope, and pray that when she ran the ultrasound wand over my belly, the baby would be thriving, instead of miscarrying.
Quinn helped by pulling the gown up and tucking the material underneath my unbound boobs.
He didn’t smirk or anything like he usually would, which kind of broke my heart.
This was all so unreal.
I wasn’t processing anything like I should be.
I knew I should be more upset about all of this.
But I was just numb.
Nothing was affecting me.
“Ahh, see here?” she said as she started to push the wand over my lower belly. “This is the uterus. This right here is the…”
She spent the next ten minutes explaining all the uterus types, and how mine was abnormal and not conducive to reproduction.
“What’s the next step?” Quinn asked.
I didn’t think this was necessary.
I mean, sure, I wanted to know the information myself, but if having a baby with Quinn was even possible, did I really want to bring a child up in a game of tug o’ war?
I looked over at the man who held my heart so completely for so many years.
And, whether I wanted to admit it or not, nothing he’d ever done had been enough for me to ever stop loving him.
Not when he’d broken up with me the first time.
Not when he left me, time after time.
Not when he didn’t answer after that shooting at the movie theater.
