Page 97 of Three Months Yesterday

“Yeah,” he agrees, but doesn’t let go. “Madison?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be scared to ask me next time. I’ll always say yes.”

The exam room is too cold. I sit on the paper-covered table while Beckett occupies the chair against the wall. He’s been making me laugh with stories from his early tour day of disastrous venues and entitled musicians, trying to keep me relaxed.

It works. Mostly.

But then there’s a soft knock on the door before it opens and Dr. Wallace steps inside.

She doesn’t say anything at first, her expression soft and professional, the kind of smile she always wears. I don’t know how, but I know the second she steps inside that something is off.

My whole body goes tense, and Beckett feels it. He’s on his feet immediately, moving to my side and taking my hand in his.

Dr. Wallace’s smile widens when she sees him. “I’m Doctor Wallace.” She extends her hand in greeting and Beckett shakes it politely, introducing himself.

“I’m Beckett.”

Dr. Wallace’s brows pinch as her gaze meets mine. “The father?”

“He’s Beckett,” I repeat distractedly, my heart hammering against my ribs. “What’s wrong?”

Her smile falters and she wheels a stool over to me, giving me her full attention. Somehow the kindness in her eyes only makes the dread worse.

“Your blood pressure was high when the nurse took it,” she says calmly. “And your urine test came back a little abnormal.”

The words hit like a physical blow, and I feel Beckett’s hand tighten around mine.

“I don’t want you to worry,” Dr. Wallace continues quickly. “It could be any number of things. Many of them completely manageable. But I want to check your blood pressure again and run a few more tests just to make sure.”

She goes through the rest of the appointment with her usual efficiency—checking my blood pressure again, listening to the baby’s heartbeat, measuring my belly. I go through the motions, answering her questions and asking my own, but I’m not really there. I’m somewhere dark and terrifying, thinking about everything that could go wrong.

I didn’t plan for this baby, but I love him with everything I am. I can’t imagine him not being here, not getting to meet him or hold him. Not knowing who he’ll become.

Beckett stays by my side through all of it. He doesn’t say much, just holds my hand, his thumb tracing slow circles against my palm. His presence is steady—solid—the one thing keeping me from spiraling completely.

“Do either of you have any questions?” Dr. Wallace asks as she finishes up.

“How long before we hear about the results?” I manage to get out.

She squeezes my knee, her eyes warm with understanding. “I’ll call you in the morning with the results. I know it’s hard, but try not to worry. We’ll figure this out.”

She leaves and the room feels too quiet—too empty.

I look at Beckett and the tears I’ve been holding back finally fall.

He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me toward him, pressing a hard kiss to my temple, and then he holds me there, his hand cradling the back of my head.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he murmurs against me. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

I nod against his chest, not trusting my voice, and he holds me like that until I can breathe again.

Everything about this morning is a stark contrast to yesterday.

I haven’t moved from the bed. I lie on my side, staring at the wall, watching the faint pattern of the wallpaper blur in and out of focus. Dr. Wallace should call soon. Or maybe not. Maybe the call won’t come until this afternoon. Maybe⁠—

I feel Beckett wake behind me. He doesn’t say anything, just slowly curves his body around mine, his palm coming to rest against Nugget as he presses a kiss to my shoulder.