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At night, though, in their bed . . . she placed a palm over her lower belly, imagining their child growing there. She imagined his hand spread over her womb, his eyes soft and hot, and an emotion like joy trickled through her, warming her.

Maybe that was the beginning of excitement.

Maybe by October that excitement would be born with their baby.

A knock at the door preceded Alice bustling in, Sara following. Alice grinned and waved both hands. “All right, girl, let’s see what we’ve got, other than a positive pregnancy test.”

“A life-altering paradigm, you mean?”

Alice laughed and glanced through her chart. “A baby is that. Cait, I want to do a sonogram, take a look at growth and get a more accurate idea of how far along you are.”

With the lights dimmed, the small screen glowed bright, and in that glow, Caitlin saw the moment Alice’s expression changed. Any joy, any tiny kindling of excitement flickered out as Alice’s mouth firmed, eyes narrowing as she studied the outline on the screen.

Without knowing what was wrong but knowing she wouldn’t hold that child, Caitlin traced the tiny form, then closed her eyes and waited. Silence beat at her, the silence of having her mother’s screams stop, of having a hand placed over her mouth to smother her own sobs.

“Okay.” Alice’s hushed voice held the no-nonsense tone Caitlin treasured, and after wiping the gel away, Alice helped her sit up. She leaned forward on her stool and took Caitlin’s hands, holding her gaze. “There’s no heartbeat.”

“And there should be.” Caitlin simply let her hands lie in Alice’s hold.

“With your dates and measurements, yes, there should be. I am sorry.”

Caitlin nodded. Her chest hurt, a sick tightness there. She should have paid more attention, should have noticed the signs earlier — should have eaten more, rested more, done more to take care of—

“. . . common in the first trimester, about twenty percent.”

She tuned in to Alice, blinking hard.

“We need to talk about what’s next.”

“Next?” The word scraped her throat.

“Yes. I can schedule you for a D&C if you want to go that route. More than likely, your body will expel the tissue on its own in the next few days, but if you don’t want to wait I can prescribe—”

“I’ll wait.” She swallowed, hard. She could ask for the D&C once he came home, but not today. Not without him.

Expel.

Tissue.

A wave of nausea pushed up, a sour taste in her mouth.

“Then you’ll need a follow up appointment, to make sure everything is okay. It may take time for your hormones to even out . . . I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t attempt another pregnancy, but I normally suggest waiting at least a month before trying.”

Trying? Trying?

She was only in this situation, facing this loss she had no idea how to navigate because it wasn’t losing her mother or her grandfather’s unattainable affection . . . she was in this situation because Tick’s vasectomy had failed.

And he wasn’t here.

Oh, God. He wasn’t here, and she had to tell him.

“Thank you.” She pulled her hands free. “Is that all? There’s nothing else to do today?”

“No, that’s all.” Sympathy glimmered in Alice’s eyes, and Caitlin dropped her own gaze. “Sara will bring you some handouts, a prescription for pain medication, a list of supplies and what to expect, when you should call.”

She nodded, twining her hands together in her lap. Somehow, she made it through the exit counseling and checked out, then made a stop for pads and painkillers, picked up her daughters from dance.

And went home to wait.