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“You’re about fifteen weeks in, by the look of things,” the doctor said. “And your baby is quite healthy. You should be a proud mother; you’re doing quite well.”
I squeezed Bernadette’s hand, giving her a look of encouragement.
The doctor went on to talk to her about various symptoms she might experience, and then discussed with her a number of recommendations on care and vitamins and all of that.
I listened intently throughout, though the doctor did promise to give us several pamphlets. I wanted to make sure that I was as informed as possible so I could continue to help take care of Bernadette with everything that she was going through.
Finally, the appointment was over, the doctor recommending to us that we come back within the next month for another check-up to make sure everything was still going smoothly.
“You can schedule an appointment with the receptionist,” she said. “She knows my availability and will make sure to get you in within the next month.”
“Thank you,” I said, standing and grabbing Bernadette’s hand again. She stood with me, giving my hand a little squeeze.
“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” she said. “I was a bit frazzled and didn’t know what to do, so I’m really glad that you were able to get us in.”
“Well of course. It can sometimes be difficult for new mothers. Sometimes they just don’t know what to do, but you did the right thing by coming in when you did.”
The two of us then headed out to the receptionist, where I gave her my billing information and we scheduled our next appointment.
As she looked for an availability, she turned to us with an appraising eye and asked, “So, are you the father?”
I had to think quickly, as I could tell that Bernadette was made extremely uncomfortable by the question.
“Yes, I am,” I said, taking her hand and holding it tight in mine. Bernadette turned to me with a confused but grateful expression and just nodded.
It wasn’t until we got out to the car that she asked, “Why did you do it? Say you were the father, I mean. You shouldn’t have to take responsibility for that.”
I raised her hand to my lips to kiss her knuckles. “Maybe not, but I could tell you were uncomfortable. I didn’t want that lady to judge you, or for you to feel any less of yourself for the fact that you don’t know the father. Besides, the way I see it, I’m going to be playing a big enough of a role to count as the father.”
She smiled, looking down at her feet. “You mean it?”
“I really do.”
“Good, because I want you to play that role too. I want my child to be able to have some sort of a father figure in their life. And the way I see it, you’re the perfect candidate.”
“Bella, there’s something I want to ask you,” I said, turning to her. She faced me, a question in her eyes.
“Of course, what is it?”
“Would you do me the ever so great honor of making this—” I gestured to the two of us. “—official? I want to be able to call you my girlfriend. And I want you to know that you can always rely on me as a boyfriend.”
She threw her arms around me, pulling me close to her so that I could feel her heart beating against my chest.
“Oh Lucas, of course. I would love that, so much. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say those words.”
“Good, I’m glad. Because I’ve waited a long time to say them, and I can’t wait to be able to tell people you’re my girlfriend. The beautiful Bernadette, my girlfriend. It’s a miracle.”
She smiled, going up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to my lips. “Not a miracle. More like destiny.”
“Destiny, I like the sound of that.”
“Then destiny it is.”
9
Bernadette
It was on my drive home from the appointment—Lucas had dropped me back at the office so that I could grab my car—that I first got the feeling.
