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She sent me a warm smile and began to reel off my statistics amongst the other more personal list of questions that were more pregnancy related. I wasn’t shy, but still, something about it made my belly tighten with nerves.
What if it had been a huge mistake? Maybe I wasn’t pregnant after all? Oh my God, what if it was Kevin’s baby and I was one of those girls who never realized they were pregnant until they popped their kid out at a truck stop?
“Ma’am, are you alright?”
My throat was so dry. The craving for a diet soda hit hard. But I nodded. “Oh, just great.”
“Sir, you can’t go in there.”
“You said room seven.”
“I didn’t think you’d just walk back. I have to ask her if she’s alright with you being there.”
The relief was a cooling feeling, filling my body as I recognized the slightly grumpy male voice. He was here. He was late, but he was here.
Another nurse peeked her head in through the door. “Ms. Grove, there's a Brady Martinez here. Do you want us to let him in?”
I let out a long sigh. “Yes, please.”
Brady was in the room before the nurse even finished telling him, his golden skin flushed and eyes wide. “Cecelia, I’m so sorry.” His gaze darted to the nurse.
“It’s fine.” Even though it wasn’t. Not yet. “Just come on in.” I waved him into the room. While the combination of hormones and my usual temper left me still more than a little frustrated with him, my muscles didn’t get the memo. They sagged with relief as he settled his large body in the plastic waiting chair.
“Actually, don’t get comfortable, Mr. Martinez. I’m handing you off for an ultrasound now, Cecelia. Grab your things and come this way.”
We bumped out into the narrow hallway together. Brady’s hand reached around my hips. “Nope, nope, nope,” I hissed at him, dropping his hand. “I can’t believe you were late. I was in your bed less than six hours ago. When you asked what was going on today, I assumed it was a joke.”
“Itwasa joke,” he whispered.
“Then it was a bad one. I need you to be here, okay?”
His lips pressed into my forehead. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
I nodded, letting my body once again sag into his. My nerves were shot today, and for once it had nothing to do with the caffeine rush that I usually started my day with.
“I’m scared.”
“I know. Me too.”
But the trouble was, I wasn’t sure if I was more scared of finding out good or bad about this tiny parasitic creature I’d been carrying around. Before I had time to explain that to Brady, we were ushered into a tiny dark room. The technician had me drop my pants, slip into an embarrassing paper skirt, and lay spread-eagle on the exam table. While she prepared the machines, Brady came to sit by my side.
For the first time today, I really looked at him. Unshaven. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and his pulse quaked against my hand when I pressed my fingers to his throat.
“Cecelia,” he scolded softly, pulling my hand away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he whispered.
“Liar,” I whispered back. Both he and the technician smiled.
“This is just very”—he took a long rattling breath—“very big. Don’t you feel that?”
I stared at him, tears filing my vision. “So much.” I clutched at his hand as the technician slid the wand mechanism into place.
The technician typed into the computer. “You’re right around seven weeks, right, Cecelia?”
I nodded, unable to speak as I stared up at the screen to our side, the black and gray shapes meaning nothing to me. I cleared my throat a moment later. “Should I know what I'm looking at?”
