Page 170 of Wait for Him

Then, as if her brain finally catches up to her heart, she screams it. "Oh, my GOD!"

The doctor laughs, clearly a veteran of this exact moment, and I sit there in the world's most uncomfortable guest chair feeling an immense, crushing guilt that it's me here instead of Bennet.

We just found out his wife is pregnant.

Not just pregnant. Very fucking pregnant.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh, my god." It's all she's said for five straight minutes, a broken record of joy, and my hand has gone completely numb because she's squeezing the ever-loving shit out of it. I've done deals with less grip strength across the table.

"Six months?" she finally asks, debuting an entirely new set of words.

"Six months, and a healthy six months," the doctor confirms. "Baby's been hiding behind an anterior placenta, which is why you felt so little movement. It happens more than you'd think. Would you like to know the sex?"

"I'll step out." I move to stand, and Blaire yanks me right back down into the chair with the strength of a woman who bench-presses grown-ass men.

"You're here for moral support. Morally support me, damn it." She levels me with a glare, then turns a beatific smile on the doctor like she wasn't just threatening me with her eyes. "Yes. Please."

Angry fucking goblin.

"You're having a little girl," the doctor says, smiling.

Blaire's free hand flies over her mouth and the tears start fresh. I squeeze the hand that's still holding mine and perform my moral support duties while she cries and laughs and asks the doctor to repeat it twice, because little girl is information that improves with repetition.

And underneath how fucking happy I am for her, that emptiness starts nagging at me again.

It's been showing up more lately. I've been keeping it busy with work and wedding planning and anything else that comes with a deadline, but sitting here with Blaire crying over a baby girl she didn't even know existed until twenty minutes ago, it's harder to ignore.

I'm riding Bennet's coattails through my whole fucking life.

His business that I'm partnered in. His wife who somehow became my best friend. His friends who became my friends. His sister, the woman I've spent most of my adult life loving and wasn't meant to keep.

Take Bennet Sullivan out of the equation and what the hell is actually mine?

He's never once made me feel that way. I know that. This is entirely a me problem, and probably one my therapist could turn into several billable hours if I were dumb enough to mention it. But with Dad in prison and no family of my own left standing, I've started realizing that nearly everyone I love came into my life through somebody else.

I don't have a forever person.

Nobody whose hand I'll be holding in a room like this someday while a doctor points at a screen and tells us we're having a little girl. Nobody I go home to who is mine because we chose each other and built something that didn't exist before us.

And fuck, I want that.

I want it badly enough that admitting it makes me uncomfortable.

"Are you okay, Jack-Jack?" Blaire asks gently.

I blink and realize we're walking through the parking garage.

What the fuck?

I have absolutely no memory of leaving the doctor's office. Or the elevator. I spent the entire trip down having an existential crisis while my legs handled transportation.

"Yeah. I'm good." I look over at her, and at least the next part is completely true. "I'm so fucking happy for you."

"I can't even believe it." She's glowing, both hands pressed over her stomach now like she's protecting the secret from escaping before she gets to tell Bennet herself. "I'm inviting everyone over tonight for dinner and making the announcement. I can't wait to tell him when he gets home. I'm going to cook and everything."

"You feeling up to that? Need anything?"

"I actually feel really good today. And I'll grab Jenn if I don't. You've babysat me enough this week."