Page 60 of Three Months Yesterday

Beckett deserves someone without this kind of baggage. Someone who could meet him as an equal, not as a woman stuck where she is—even more now than she was before.

“Beckett, I don’t think⁠—”

“Don’t,” he cuts me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “Don’t pull away from me now. Not when we’re just starting to explore this thing between us.”

“Beckett,” I plead, hearing the desperation in my voice. “There’s nothing to explore. Not now. I’m pregnant. By a man I haven’t seen or spoken to in almost five months. That’s not a complication, that’s a…” My words trail off, having no idea how to describe the situation I’m in.

“It’s a curveball,” Beckett finishes for me, leaning forward. “I’ve had plenty of those, and I’m not afraid of another. The question isn’t what life throws at us. It’s whether we let it knock us down or we figure out how to keep moving forward.”

“And what does moving forward look like to you?” I challenge. “Because I don’t see how I ask you to fit into this picture. I don’t see how I could ask anyone to fit into this picture.”

Beckett opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, the curtain opens and Aiden slips through, his face etched with worry.

“Hey.” He crosses to the bed in three long strides, his eyes scanning me quickly before he presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’re out of the collar.”

“I am. Just a few bruised ribs and a concussion. They’re keeping me overnight for observation, but no red flags.”

Aiden’s gaze sharpens, his eyes flicking between Beckett and me before resting squarely on my face. I’ve never been a good liar with anyone, but Aiden is like a human lie detector. “Everything else okay?”

I’m saved from answering by the curtain moving once more, this time by a man in a pair of dark blue scrubs. “Madison Hawthorne?”

At my nod the man steps forward, wheeling what I assume is a portable ultrasound machine behind him.

“I’m Doctor Dupont from OB. I’m just gonna do an ultrasound to make sure you and baby are okay.”

Aiden’s head snaps toward me, confusion clouding his features. “Baby?”

The blood drains from my face. I’ve been so focused on the shock of the news and the fact that Beckett was here that I hadn’t considered how I’d tackle telling anyone else.

Regardless of everything, Mark should have been the first person to hear the news, but the number of people who know before him grows as does my guilt for all of it.

Aiden’s eyes move to Beckett, searching for an explanation, but Beckett doesn’t have one. His eyes come to me, his expression carefully neutral as he squeezes my hand, letting me know he’ll support whatever decision I make.

The doctor reads the room, his gaze sweeping across the two men flanking my bed and jumps into action, saving me once more from a difficult conversation. “I think it’s a little crowded in here. Why don’t the two of you wait in the hall?”

Aiden’s focus shifts around the room, his gaze calculating before he turns to me. He’s spent enough time in difficult situations to know when to push and when to give in. He leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“We’ll talk later,” he murmurs low enough only I can hear. “I’ll step out, Beckett can stay.”

He’s gone before anyone can protest, the curtain sliding shut behind him.

Dr. Dupont looks at me, one eyebrow raised in question. “Do you want dad to step out as well?”

“Oh, he’s not⁠—”

“I’m not⁠—”

Beckett and I start at the same time. My grip tightens around his hand as my eyes meet his and my stomach clenches at the words that slip free. “He stays.”

“All right.” Dr. Dupont nods, his expression softening slightly.

As he prepares the ultrasound equipment, I feel the weight of what I’ve just done settle over me like a ton of bricks. I’ve asked Beckett to stay. To witness this—the first time I’ll see or hear the heartbeat of my child, a child created with another man.

It’s wrong. Every instinct is screaming that it’s wrong to lean on him like this. To take comfort from him when I have nothing to offer in return. But Beckett’s hand is warm in mine, his thumb tracing soothing patterns across my knuckles, and when I look at him there’s no judgment in his eyes. Only patience and understanding.

I’ve never experienced this before—this sense of truly being seen and supported. It terrifies me almost as much as the pregnancy itself.

“Do you know the first day of your last period?” Dr. Dupont asks, draping a protective sheet over my lower half.