Page 60 of The Logic of Loyalty

“I-I understand.” I squeeze her hand, then pull mine from her hold. “That was a perfect cup of coffee, doc.” I attempt a smile, but I’m overwhelmed.

“Okay, great to hear. Let’s do the Pap smear. I have some questions that are protocol. I’ll ask as we proceed, and Steph here will mark your answers. Alright?”

“Yes. Alright.”

“Okay, Paige, assume the position.”

I laugh, follow the instructions, and zone out, much like I did during my conversation earlier. I barely hear the heavy intake of her breath when she gets to my breast exam, but I don’t even consider the reasoning until she asks me a question I’ve been asked at checkups for years. “Are you safe? At home?” The hesitancy in her voice alerts me, along with her motionless hands.

“Yes.” When she doesn’t continue, I start to feel a little uncomfortable. Then it sinks in. “Oh, God, the bruises. I was in an accident! The hospital⁠—”

“Oh, yes. They sent those. How scary that must have been for you.” Her honest concern is comforting. Dr. Lee is a compassionate doctor and a good woman. She settles back into her work, and I continue to answer the questions without much thought until she says, “We will test for STIs. It’s necessary and just part of the process, but we will be checking for⁠—”

Shame, followed swiftly by anger, burns under my skin. He cast a shadow over every part of this incredible news to the point where I have to question my own sexual health.

This is too much.

The lovely Dr. Lee finishes her examination and hands me the sonogram of my babies. “We will be having them more regularly than your last little one, but we are just being cautious. There will be an ultrasound at every appointment since we won’t be able to rely on the Doppler to read both heart rates, alright? I’ll see you in one month! Remember, we are always a phone call away for any questions or concerns.”

I nod, numbly holding onto the evidence of my two babies growing in my belly. B is measuring slightly smaller than A, but apparently, that’s totally normal, and not something I need to worry about. Dr. Lee turns to walk out the door when she pauses and leans back inside. “Paige?”

“Hmm?” I look up and meet her turquoise eyes.

A soft smile alights her face, and a sense of ease settles briefly over me. She brings me into the moment with her quiet confidence and gentle competence. “Congratulations.” Then she pulls the door shut behind her, leaving me in this empty, sterile room. I clutch the images tighter, but wary of wrinkling them, I set them carefully into the envelope and into my purse.

“Congratulations.” All at once too small a word and too big for what I’m feeling. I dress, but my mind gets lost, whirling through too many details, concerns, and emotions for me to stop and focus on just one. A knock comes a moment later, and at my uttered “Come in,” the nurse enters, handing me the paper to make my next appointment. I don’t know what to say, if I say anything at all, but now I’m following her out the door. My mind is so loud while the world around me is practically silent. I pat my purse, then rummage around until the smooth paper of the envelope meets my searching fingers. My eyes stay glued on the nurse’s shoes as they transition from the tiles of the exam rooms to the carpet of the waiting room. The envelope stays pinched between my fingers, but I don’t pull it out. She stops once we’re through the doors, and something unexplainable—a buzz through the air, or maybe a shift of energy—makes me look up from where I’m fixating and into the bright blue, enigmatic gaze of my husband.

I can’t stop my initial reaction when our eyes lock; relief that he’s here when all I feel is turmoil. Trevor has always been my port in a storm, but then reality sinks in, and that relief fades away to confusion as to how he knew I’d be here. Finally, I land on disappointment. I didn’t want him here, and yet he’s here anyway. Where was he when I wanted him just last week?

I break our connection and turn away, ignoring the pain that flashed across his face. It radiates from where he stands, reaching me from across the clinic. I see his reflection through the glass of the window. He’s watching me, unmoving.

“Hey, hun. Says here we’ll see you in a month. Any day specifically work for you?”

I have no early idea what everything is going to look like in a month. “Uh, um.” I don’t even bother checking my phone. “An earlier appointment would be best.” I can go while Jacob is in school. The young lady hands me a card, and I discreetly tuck it into my purse. I’m sure Trevor watches it happen. Centering myself, I gather my wayward emotions and bury them deep, deep, deep.

Squaring my shoulders, I turn to where he remains standing, staring holes into me. My eyes slide past him to focus on the exit and, checking for the envelope one more time, I walk through the waiting room, brushing past him and out the door. His breath catches when my body glides past him, but he doesn’t step out of my way or closer. I’m halfway to the vehicle when his hurried steps echo behind me. I don’t slow down, and I don’t look back. I walk straight for the car, but veer to the passenger seat at the last second. A stutter step follows, ending with a hand reaching for the handle in front of me. The heat of him lines up with my back, but again, I ignore it. Down, down, down.

Trevor rounds the front of the SUV and hops into the driver’s seat. I hand him the keys, still not looking at him, still not talking. His hands hesitate, hovering a moment before he takes them. The low roar of the engine is followed by Trevor angling the AC vents toward me. A small tear in my heart throbs at the move, but I continue to fuss with the paper. I pull out my phone and send a quick message, and finally turn to him.

“Take me to the Ridges, please.” Trevor silently nods, puts his arm on the seat behind me, and backs out of the parking spot. I ignore the traitorous flush that creeps up my skin at the move. It’s a weakness. “I got some pretty significant news today.”

“Are you safe? Is the baby safe? Did the accident⁠—”

“Everyone is healthy. Please be quiet and let me talk. If you still have questions, feel free to ask after I’m done. For now, we’re riding in silence.” I clench my hands into fists, nearly crumpling the paper. I flex my fingers once and relax them. The click of the blinker and the whir of the AC are the only sounds in the cab. Seeing my babies, then seeing him? It all comes together in my mind, creating a clear image of what needs to happen. I’m no longer unsure. I’m just … heartbroken. I lean my head against the passenger window, but a visceral memory hits at the move, and I huddle into myself.

Trevor’s hands are tapping at the wheel. I drag my eyes from there to the dash. I have to squint at it to make sure of the time. He must be looking at me more than I realize because he reads my confusion. “They’ll be fine without me. I-I’m where I’m supposed to be.” He doesn’t bother painting on a smile for my sake. Instead, his face looks darker, stormier. His right hand twitches on the wheel as his eyes surreptitiously keep flicking in my direction.

The scenery passes behind him as we pass the town limits and hit the higher speeds. He’s slow to accelerate and quick to take his foot off the gas, all smooth transitions and diligent attention. He’s no longer sneaking glances. His eyes are on every blind corner and curve of the road.

“The lower ridge, please.” I didn’t consider all of the memories of the upper ridges when I asked him to take us out here. I was only thinking about getting away from everything and trapping myself into the conversation I do not want to have, but need to have.

The next ten minutes pass in more taut silence. A dirt road, a few turns and curves, and we’re sitting at one of the many lookouts only locals know about. Trevor puts the SUV in park and pauses with his hands remaining on the keys and the wheel.

I pull the envelope out and hand it to him, but open the door and hop out the moment it leaves my fingers.

A soft breeze hits me, lifting my hair from my shoulders before wrapping around my legs and flirting with my skirt. Amusement fills me briefly at the idea of suddenly having a wardrobe malfunction in a place like this, but it’s quickly suffocated by what’s happening to me right now. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and turn to Trevor.

His eyes are wide as saucers as he looks, and then looks again at the images in his hand. His eyebrows sit high on his forehead, and a small O forms on his lips. His eyes flash to mine with a complicated mix of emotions, but a smile takes over his tired face.