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“Tricky little one. Look at you hide,” the technician finally said, her voice full of warm humor. The screen flicked on the large television, and both of us stared.
Because of course they were fine. The little blob had changed so much, little arms and legs swirling and kicking as the wand moved between her hips. I didn’t need to hear the heartbeat, because I knew they were fine.
But even so, I knew that it would only make it better.
“Can we hear the heartbeat?”
“Of course.” There were a few quick clicks, and then the sound, deep and rhythmic, filled the room.
My chest felt like it might crack open as I listened.
It was perfect. And for a moment, feeling the perfection of the sound, her hand gripping mine while we listened to our baby together, I almost blurted it all out.
I almost told her that I was completely confused by her but that my heart ached when we weren’t together. I almost told her that I would move heaven and hell to make sure she and our baby were safe and happy.
But I was a coward and forced my lips shut. I had kept people at a distance for so long that suddenly removing that boundary and letting her in…it felt too big.
And so, I sat back, her hand loosely clasped in mine as long as the technician let us sit and listen. As the lights came back on and the technician ducked out to get our new pictures for us, Whitney didn’t even attempt to move this time as I plucked a few tissues and carefully wiped her belly free of the gel.
Being able to care for her didn’t just make me smile in satisfaction but made my cock throb in pleasure. And when I tugged her back to a standing position and let her body brush against mine, I didn’t stop myself from pushing a strand of hair behind her ears. “Everything is going to be okay.”
She sighed and sank into my arms for just a moment. “How do you know?”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
And as we walked out of the doctor’s, a long string of photographs clutched in her hand, I knew that I’d never said anything truer in my life.
***
Whitney
I should’ve known better. Just when I thought I had figured out men, God—or rather, Emerson Brooks—sent me this one.
The other week, we’d had this amazing connection at the doctor’s office. He’d shown me how soft he could be. He had smiled, really smiled. Hell, he’d even flirted a little. And for the first time that I could remember, I’d craved his attention. Even the simplest thing, when his fingers had brushed mine.
He’d lent me his support and his strength when I had needed it so badly.
And then, the next day, I might as well have switched him for a whole different man. Because the Gates who showed up on doorstep the next morning was cool, distant, and even a little irritating. Probably because I knew just how kind and warm he could be.
By the time the week was out, another week of him being camped out around my house, my workplace, and even in my house a few times, I was done. I texted a friend from work, Alexa, and asked what she was doing.
It had suddenly turned into a blind date with a friend of her boyfriend’s. I knew she wanted to double date, but I flat out refused to do that on a first date.
Honestly, Alexa had been trying to set me up for weeks. Every time I turned her down, pointing at the obvious situation I had going on at waist level, she brushed it off and told me to trust her, that this guy wouldn’t care about that.
And while I highly doubted that, I was tired of the hot / cold game I was playing with Gates and more than a little eager to see if she was right.
Because I did need to know what came next, after this baby.
Alexa:Come on. He’s gorgeous and loaded. The worst thing to happen is that you have a nice night out.
Whitney:What do I even wear? I need to hide the bump.
Alexa:Or don’t? I know he wants kids; he’ll probably be into it.
I cocked my head sideways.
Whitney:Really?
