“Sorry,” she winces, twisting her hands in the hem of my shirt. “My pajamas don’t fit and I saw it in the clean laundry and I…I’ll wash it tomorrow.”
She starts to retreat and I throw back the covers. “Wait. Don’t go, it's fine. What's wrong?”
“I couldn't sleep.”
“Me neither,” I admit, and she takes a step inside my room.
“It’s just, I slept so well last night. Do you think we could…”
“Of course,” I say immediately. “Come here.” Moving the blanket aside, I tap the mattress next to me. Sage slips in, lying on her side.
I settle in next to her and finger the oversized sleeve of what is definitely one of my old beer league baseball team T-shirts. “I was looking for this the other day,” I tease quietly, and even in the dim light filtering through the curtains, I see her cheeks darken.
“I don't like wearing tight shirts when I sleep,” she mumbles.
With a chuckle, I hold her chin between my thumb and forefinger and lean in to kiss her. “Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”
Rolling onto my back, I open my arms. “C’mon, let's get some sleep.”
Her head finds my chest like we've done this a million times, not just once. I brush the hair back from her face and kiss the top of her head.
Sage lets out a contented sigh. “You make me feel likeI can breathe again. I haven’t felt that way since my mom died.”
I don’t reply right away, I’m too stunned by her confession. And soon, her body starts to relax in my arms. She fits with me like she was always meant to be here. It's peaceful.
And as I finally drift off to sleep, one thought remains.
I can breathe easier, too, with her in my arms.
The next day when we walk into the hospital for the ultrasound, I’m holding Sage’s hand in mine. After we check in and take a seat in a waiting room that smells like hand sanitizer, she lays her head on my shoulder, placing our still linked hands on her thigh.
Another woman, who looks to be much more pregnant than Sage, walks out of a door that I assume leads to one of the ultrasound rooms. She looks at us with red-rimmed eyes, and I feel Sage’s body tense.
“You’re really lucky to have a guy like him. These appointments aren’t always easy,” the stranger says softly to her.
I feel her suck in a breath and look down to see Sage give the woman an understanding smile and nod before the other woman walks away.
The moment feels charged. Poignant. Both of us realize that could’ve been Sage, showing up to all of these appointments by herself, weathering the highs and lows of pregnancy, childbirth, and raising a baby alone.
She turns her face into me, reaching her other hand around her belly to awkwardly hug me. Her words are muffled, but clear enough to make my throat feel thick with emotions of my own.
“She’s right. I am really lucky to have you.”
“Sage McCallister?”
The ultrasound technician’s voice stops me from being able to reply. We stand up together, and still holding her hand tightly in mine, move toward the door, only for the tech to hold up her hand.
“Actually, just Sage for now. We’ll take a few measurements, then call you in.”
Sage turns a panicked look my way, and I force a reassuring smile in response. “I’ll be waiting right here, little mama.”
She gives me a jerky nod before dropping my hand. As soon as the door closes behind the technician, I stumble back to the chairs and sink down, blowing out a breath. And I wait.
Thank God it’s not long before Sage comes out, hurrying into the adjoining bathroom. That makes me grin. She had to chug so much water before the appointment, I’m not surprised that’s her priority. When the bathroom door opens, she looks at me with pure relief.
“Thank God that part is over.”
I stand and pull her in for a hug. “No kidding. Can I come in with you now?”
