He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
Elena smiles. “Good boy.”
We say our goodbyes. Elena makes us promise to eat something and get some rest. Stefan kisses her forehead and I squeeze her hand one more time.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I whisper.
“I’m glad you’re here,dochka.”
We leave the room. The guards nod as we pass. Stefan is quiet in the elevator, his jaw humming with tension.
“She’s going to be fine,” I tell him. “She’s strong. Stubborn. She’ll be dancing at our wedding just like she said.”
“I know.” But he doesn’t sound remotely convinced.
We’re halfway to the parking garage when Stefan stops. “Shit.”
“What?”
“We have an appointment. The OBGYN. It’s today.”
I pull out my phone and check the time. “Oh, wow, you’re right. In an hour. It completely slipped my mind.”
“Do you still want to go? We can reschedule if you’re too tired.”
I think about it. I am tired. Exhausted, actually. But I also want to see our baby. Hear the heartbeat. Make sure everything is okay.
I need a reminder of why I’m doing all of this. Why I’m trying so hard to fix things.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Stefan nods. We head to the car and drive across town to Dr. Kostas’s office. The waiting room is quiet today, just one other couple sitting in the corner. We check in and sit down.
Stefan takes my hand. “Are you nervous?”
“A little. You?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “The fear isn’t reasonable. It’s just there.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I reassure him. “The baby’s fine.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’d feel it if something was wrong. And I feel fine. Great, actually.” He still looks uncertain, so I lean my head on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper.
The nurse calls us back a few minutes later. She takes my weight and blood pressure, asks the standard questions about symptoms and discomfort. I tell her everything’s been fine. No bleeding or cramping, and the nausea has pretty much disappeared altogether.
“Great,” she says, making notes on her tablet. “Dr. Kostas will be right in.”
She leaves and Stefan helps me up onto the exam table. The paper crinkles beneath me as I settle back against the pillows.
“Comfortable?” he asks.
“As comfortable as a woman can be on an ice-cold table covered in tissue paper.”
