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The next morning comes quick. It feels like my alarm was screaming for me to wake up as soon as I closed my eyes. I go to the office and take care of some paperwork before I leave and pick up Lennon for her appointment. She meets me in the parking lot to save time.
“I’m so damn nervous,” Lennon says, her leg shaking in anticipation as we drive to the clinic.
“It’s going to be fine. I’m sure you’re a little excited too.” I’m trying to be as supportive as I can because right now, more than ever, she needs it.
“Yes, I’m excited,” she says, flashing a half-smile. “Sad though, too,” she adds. I was wondering when she’d mention it.
I reach over, grab her hand, and squeeze it. She doesn’t flinch or pull away, but I do before it gets awkward. I put my hand back on the steering wheel, not knowing what came over me. It felt right, it felt natural, and it must’ve for her too.
As I turn into the parking lot, we both stare at the building. Lennon lets out a deep breath and a nervous laugh.
“We’ve got this,” I tell her, then unbuckle and open the door. She follows my lead, and we head inside. We sit in the waiting room as she fills out the necessary paperwork, and a long twenty minutes later, they finally call her name.
For some reason, I’m just as nervous as she is. I have no idea what to expect with a visit like this, so I can only imagine the anxiety she’s feeling. I don’t want there to be any issues with her or the baby for obvious reasons but also because she can’t handle any more bad news.
We follow the nurse to an exam room where they take her weight and height. The nurse asks her a thousand questions based on her paperwork, gets her blood pressure reading, and then asks about her last period. Lennon can’t give her the exact date, but she gives an estimated timeframe. If talking about this in front of me is awkward as hell for her, she doesn’t show it. Lennon answers all the questions effortlessly, describing how she’s been feeling and talking about her diet. Once the nurse has everything she needs, we’re informed that Dr. Potter will be in shortly.
Fifteen minutes later, the doctor enters with a file in her hand. “There’s the happy couple! Congratulations on your pregnancy,” she says with a big smile, looking back and forth between us before taking her seat at the tiny desk.
“Oh, um,” I begin but quickly stop when Lennon speaks up.
“No, he’s not the father,” she explains, her bottom lip trembling.
I reach over and grab her hand, squeezing it again, just as I did in the truck. “It’s okay, Lennon.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Potter immediately apologizes. “I know better than to assume.”
Lennon nods, and I lean back into my chair so the two can talk. “The father died in a motorcycle accident a couple of months ago. This is Hunter, his best friend.” She pauses, then adds, “My best friend.”
My heart falls into my stomach at her declaration. I know I shouldn’t allow those words to affect me, but they do. If being her best friend is all I can ever be, I’d still die a happy man by just getting to be in Lennon’s life at all.
The doctor’s eyes soften, and she apologizes profusely for her loss. Dr. Potter basically repeats everything the nurse asked, which is annoying that Lennon has to go through it twice. Talks about taking her daily prenatal vitamins and then discusses how far along she could be. Since the first day of her last period was over two months ago, the doctor recommends getting an ultrasound. She explains they’ll be able to get the baby’s measurements and better estimate her due date.
Once she’s finished with the office visit, we’re sent to another floor for the ultrasound. A tech brings us into a darkened room and explains the whole process to Lennon, which has my mind spinning. Since she’s apparently at the end of her first trimester, they can do a traditional ultrasound, whatever the hell that means.
As soon as Lennon lifts her shirt, I glance away to give her some privacy. Moments later, the ultrasound tech stands closer to her, so I take that as my sign it’s okay to look. Lennon’s jeans are lowered a bit where the wand is sliding over her belly. The screen grabs my attention as we watch weird movements play out. I have no idea what I’m looking at, but it doesn’t matter because soon, the tech explains everything in detail.
“See that little flutter there?” She points at the screen, and Lennon and I both look up. “That’s the baby’s heartbeat.” She grins, and I shift my gaze to Lennon, whose eyes are watering. She’s smiling, and I know how much this means to her. “Looks like you have an active little baby in there.”
