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"I get that, trust me. You mentioned a doctor. That means you've gone to see one already?"
"Yeah, I did. I have another appointment in two weeks if you, well—" she pauses and then shoots me a hesitant smile. "If you want to tag along."
"I'd like that, yeah," I say, my voice betraying the nervous excitement bubbling inside me. It's the right thing to offer, the responsible thing to do, but that’s not why I said it—or, at least, not the only reason. I’m excited about this visit to the doctor. And terrified, too, so terrified. “Hey, there’s something I think you need to know. Something I need to tell you. The way I acted when you met up with Adam was unacceptable. I've always been taught that fighters can get into any kind of argument without worrying about the consequences, and it's no big deal. But I was wrong, and I can see that now. I had to begin seeing a psychologist, which I thought was stupid as hell, but being court mandated, I had no choice. But then, well, what the shrink was telling me made sense. Anger management started to make sense, and I began to see my actions in a different light. I messed up, I was not only an ass, but a violent ass, and I want you to know how sorry I am for that. For everything.”
The look of surprise on her face is enough to make me chuckle, somewhere between amused and self-conscious.
“Well, you don’t have to look at me like I’ve grown a second head, Tyley.”
“Sorry, it’s just that I never expected to hear those words. It’s nice, though. Thank you.”
"Do you have a picture? I mean, a—what do they call it?"
"An ultrasound?" she offers, and her teasing smile stirs something else inside me—something warm and tempting I've come to know all too well. "Yeah, I do."
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a worn envelope, carefully extracting a black and white image. I reach out to grab it and am shocked to notice my hand trembling. God, I'm scared shitless, aren't I?
But then I bring the picture closer and examine it closely. I expected blurry shapes and patterns that mean absolutely nothing to my untrained eyes. Instead, I find myself staring at a clear image of a tiny being curled up and nestled in the safety of Tyley's womb. Two legs, two arms, and a minuscule head with its very own nose, mouth, and closed eyes. My breath catches in my throat, and I'm pretty certain my heart stopped for an instant only to go back to beating to a new, different drum.
“Well, that’s our baby, alright,” I nod, not taking my eyes off the picture yet.
“What do you mean?”
I grin, finally meeting her gaze and motioning toward the baby’s face. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it. This is your nose, and that is my powerful chin. The baby has my hair, too, of course."
She bursts out laughing, shaking her head at my ridiculous claims. "Oh, of course; how could I have missed that? The resemblance is striking."
Seeing her open up a little is a relief, and I don't think I've ever heard such beautiful laughter in my life. "Can I keep this?" I ask with some hesitation, hoping she truly trusts me enough not to mess this up as well. I royally screwed whatever it was we had, and a baby is something far more delicate than a relationship. She nods, and I take her hand in mine, my smile widening further still. "I'm going to be there every step of the way, Ty; that's a promise."
She gives me a sober look then, searching into my eyes as if trying to discover any signs of deception or hesitation. There’s none to be found, of that I’m sure, even if I won’t deny I’m scared of messing up, of my life-changing for good, so many unanswered questions rushing through my head at once.
“I hope you keep that promise, Grayson. I really do. This is bigger than just you and me now, and I know first-hand how an unreliable parent can mess up a kid.”
I feel this sudden urge to slip onto her side of the booth and hold Tyley close, kiss those old scars away, but it’s too soon for any of that. If I want to have a chance with her, I have to take it slow and prove to her I’m not going to bail at the first sight of trouble. There’s a long, uphill road ahead, but I have a feeling that the reward will outweigh any required sacrifice.
twenty-five
Tyley
I flip through my phone, scrolling through news articles as I sip on my morning tea. The good mood I’m enjoying disappears at the sight of a gossip column I want nothing to do with: "Rumors of Grayson's impending fatherhood surface – Is girlfriend expecting his child?"
My grip tightens on the phone, and I groan in frustration. How did this get leaked already? It's only been a couple of weeks since Grayson found out, and we've agreed not to tell people about it yet. Sure, Sarah knows, but there's no way she rushed to the press to sell that story. So who?
I open the article, scanning the words, trying to find a clue that might indicate who the source is. A doctor? No, no way, they're not going to risk a HIPAA violation for a few bucks or some publicity. Maybe someone from Grayson's inner circle?
"Oh, God, these vultures," I whisper as I begin searching other similar articles around the web. Though the one I stumbled upon is the first one published about eight hours ago, a few new ones have surfaced since. The cat is out of the bag and there's no dragging it back in.
I rest a protective hand over my slowly swelling belly. It's not quite noticeable yet if I wear the right clothes, but at sixteen weeks, the bump is there, no questions asked.
The phone buzzes in my hand, and I shift my gaze down to see an incoming call from Grayson.
"Hi?"
"Hey, Ty. Listen, there's something you should know.”
"The new articles about our unborn child? Yeah, I already saw them."
"Aw, shit. I hoped I'd be able to reach you before you read those."
