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LaQuandra’s mouth watered, but her stomach clenched.
Isaiah walked in frowning, but then he looked over in her direction and his lips curved upward, giving a hint of a smile that resembled more of a smirk than anything else.
Within minutes, they were being called to the back.
LaQuandra assumed her regular position, while Isaiah sat in a chair beside her.
“How are you feeling?” the thirtysomething woman asked.
LaQuandra shrugged, then rubbed her grumbling stomach. “Okay, I guess. I don’t sleep much. And I’m constantly hungry.”
She felt her eyes prick with tears. “And I’m so emotional.”
The woman smiled.
And Isaiah shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to move back in with her moody, bitchy-ass. But he knew he didn’t want to live with regrets, either. There was a part of him that knew he didn’t want to throw in the towel on his marriage unless he was absolutely sure he’d done his part.
And he hadn’t.
Yeah, she lied to him—in the worst way. But . . .
“Would you like to hear the baby’s heartbeat?”
LaQuandra bit back a sob as she nodded her head. “Yes.”
“No doubt.”
The obstetrician smiled and then applied a cool gel to her abdomen. LaQuandra’s chest tightened. And she held her breath. Every appointment for the last five months had been like this, her holding her breath. Now she was nearing her third trimester and she was still a ball of nerves.
This life inside of her was a miracle—her miracle. One she’d conceived on Passion Island, the night she’d confessed to Isaiah. Though it was a blessing, she was so afraid of anything happening to her unborn child. She’d lied so many times about being pregnant and had feigned countless miscarriages that she was afraid she’d reap what she sowed for deceiving Isaiah and for spreading those horrible lies out into the universe.
She didn’t want her deception to somehow manifest itself into a curse.
The doctor moved the wand over LaQuandra’s swollen belly and . . .
Whoosh, whoosh . . . whoosh, whoosh . . .
There it was. Her son’s little beating heart. The sound of love and hope and second chances filled the room.
“His heartbeat is very strong and healthy,” the doctor said.
More tears filled LaQuandra’s eyes.
It was only then that her lungs expanded and she was able to breathe in, then exhale.
Isaiah reached for her hand, and stared at her with those dark-chocolate orbs of his that seemingly sparkled with the promise of, perhaps, forgiveness.
Something he knew he needed to do before his son was born. He didn’t want to witness the birth of his seed coming into the world harboring ill feelings toward LaQuandra.
She’d hurt him with the truth, but somehow he saw this pregnancy as redemption.
Isaiah heard Dr. Dangerfield’s voice, “Even in our darkest moments, miracles happen . . .”
A smile eased over his lips. Dr. Dangerfield had been right. Hope truly did bloom.
Isaiah squeezed LaQuandra’s hand even tighter. And then he cupped her cheek and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, and then he pulled away, taking his lips with him, the kiss over almost as soon as it started.
But it was a start.
