“Of course, I am. I’m not married anymore.”
It was like she’d punched me in the stomach. The air left me, and she strode away, leaving me to follow her like a lost lamb. I bowed my head, but not before I saw the look on the guy's face across from me.
Like he’d seen a horror movie, and he wanted to turn it off and throw it away.
Yeah. You and me both, bud.
Somehow, I managed to force my shaking legs to follow Lila into the scan room, my heart leaping when I saw the little screen beside the bed.
The doctor checked Lila’s name—not Rossi anymore—and her date of birth. Then she waved at the pristine white bed.
“If you’d like to lie on the bed and pull your shirt up, then push your bottoms down below your tummy, we can begin.”
My heart raced as Lila did as she asked, ignoring me completely. I stared at her stomach like it was something magical, which I supposed it was.
“Are you the father?” the doctor asked me as she applied gel to Lila’s stomach.
“Yes,” I whispered, staring at Lila. Her jaw was tight, she refused to look at me, and I just wanted to hold her hand more than anything.
To beg her not to be ashamed that I was the father of her child, that even though I’d let her down and fucked up, I wouldn’t do it to our child.
No fucking way.
The doctor rolled a probe over Lila’s stomach, and I stopped breathing.
Because I heard it. The tiny thump, thump, thump of a heart. Emotion rose in my throat as Lila began to cry, her exhaustion shining through her tears.
“Baby,” I whispered, reaching for her hand and unable to stop myself.
She let me hold it for a brief second, then she pulled away. But for that brief second, I was home.
“Okay, so I’ve taken some measurements, and I can tell you that you’re around the twelve-week mark. That pesky morning nausea should start to ease now.”
The doctor pointed out the placenta, commenting that it looked healthy, then pointed at the screen with a smile.
“This is your baby. They look great.”
I could make out a tiny head, arms, legs, and even… a spine? They jerked a little on screen, and something inside me cracked.
Fuck. That’s my baby.
Tears flooded my eyes as I stared at the screen, unable to breathe.
Our baby.
I reached for Lila again, but she withdrew her hand, still staring at the screen.
“Would you like print-outs?” the doctor asked, and we both nodded.
Well, we agreed on something at least.
42
LILA
“Do you need a ride home?” I asked Victor, my tone clipped.
So what if I’d let him hold my hand back there? I was pregnant, not dead. I wasn’t entirely immune to feeling things when it came to Victor and my baby.
