Page 179 of Vega

She paused. “Are you in pain?”

I shook my head.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“No.” My voice broke. “I’m sorry. You can keep going.”

She tried, but my tears came faster.

I covered my face with both hands, embarrassed that I couldn’t pull myself together. This was supposed to be about my baby. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to hear that everything was fine and receive a picture to leave at Kash’s grave.

“I can’t do this without him,” I cried.

The doctor removed her gloves and rolled her stool closer.

“Who’s him?” she asked gently.

“My baby’s father.”

She waited.

“He died.”

Her face softened with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”

I wiped my face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “He was supposed to be here. We were supposed to do all of this together.”

She placed a box of tissues beside me. “You don’t have to apologize for grieving.”

“I can’t even get through an exam.”

“You showed up. That matters.”

I stared at the ceiling while trying to breathe through the pain in my throat. “He didn’t even know I was pregnant. I didn’t get to tell him.”

The doctor rested her hand on my arm. “That’s a heavy thing to carry.”

“I keep thinking about how happy he would’ve been.”

My voice disappeared beneath another sob.

She stayed beside me instead of rushing to finish. “We can take a break. There’s no schedule more important than what you need right now.”

I turned my head toward the empty chair again.

Kash wasn’t coming through that door. He’d never hold my hand during an ultrasound or argue over baby names with me. He’d never see our child’s face.

I pressed my palm against my stomach. “I want this baby. I just don’t know how to be happy without feeling guilty that he isn’t here.”

“You don’t have to choose between loving your baby and missing him,” the doctor told me. “You can do both.”

I closed my eyes and cried harder, giving myself permission to be excited and broken at the same time.

I walked toward the lobby with my ultrasound pictures folded inside the paperwork clutched in my hand.

Prodigy stood as soon as he saw me. He’d come to my first prenatal appointment because he didn’t want me to be alone. I appreciated that more than I’d been able to tell him. But he’d stayed in the waiting area to give me privacy.

His eyes searched my face as he approached. “You okay?”