Whoosh-whoosh. Whoosh-whoosh. Whoosh-whoosh.
“Everything looks good,” she says, squeezing my hand. “But we’ll have the obstetrician come in to do a more comprehensive check, okay?”
I nod, so damned relieved that more tears leak from my eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’ve got this, Mama,” she whispers.
My heart convulses. “How will I be a good mom if I can’t even remember to eat?”
She’s quiet for a few seconds then sighs and lightly sets her hand on my shoulder. “That right there tells me enough.”
“About what?”
“About what kind of mother you’ll be to your little boy,” she says. “And, for the record, I mean a good one.”
Little boy?
God, I hope Reed has Leo’s eyes and his smile and his?—
“How can you know I’ll be a good mom?” I blurt.
She passes me a tissue. “It’s simple.” A beat. “Because you care.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath?—
“She’s right, you know.”
Gasping, my lids fly open and I see Leo standing just inside the room. And maybe it’s not smart, maybe it’s weak when I should apologize for what happened yesterday first, but instead…I burst into tears.
He’s at my side in an instant, drawing me into his arms and holding me close.
“I’ll just give you two a minute,” I hear the doctor say.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” I sob. “Sorry I-I said th-that.”
His arms tighten. “I know you didn’t mean it, not really.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay!” I push against his chest and dash at my eyes. “I know all about the power of words and I just carelessly tossed that out there like it didn’t matter. But it does, and I’m sorry.”
He smooths back my hair and that small, normal gesture undoes me.
Because he’s touching me like it’s all going to be okay. “Apology accepted,” he says. “But only if you let me properly grovel for being such an asshole. I…” He sighs. “I don’t know what I was thinking—except that maybe I wasn’t. Clearly, I have a lot of work to do to make it up to you, but I want you to know that I spent time this morning coming up with some ideas to split finances—I still don’t think it’s fair for us to go fifty-fifty, but maybe we can scale it based on income or you can pick up a few utility bills like you mentioned.”
“Leo—”
“If you don’t want to do either of those things, maybe you can start a college fund or?—”
“Leo,” I say. “Please just stop and listen.”
He rocks back slightly but, to his credit, he stops and he listens.
“You should have talked to me,” I say.
A wince.
“Really, you should have.”
Another.
