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“It knocked our story out of the top news spot, finally.” He sits up and props a foot on the coffee table. “A man was found running up a street on the west side of Indianapolis wearing a metal collar. He led cops back to a house where a woman had five other men chained up.”
“Holy shit. Poor guy. People are fucking crazy.”
“It gets worse. A neighbor was filming when they busted her. As they were dragging her out of the house, she was yelling about not having enough yet.”
“Enough what?”
“According to one of the men that they rescued, semen.” My mouth falls open. He must be kidding. He holds his hands out and his eyebrows rise. “That’s what he said. He told the reporter she was milking them for sperm twice a day.”
“What the hell for?”
“To impregnate herself? To sell? To rub on her skin or use as coffee creamer? Who knows? She’s clearly off her fucking rocker.”
“Ew!”
I get up to fetch my phone and he calls out after me. “It’s horrible, but it’s taken a lot of the attention off of us. It’s much more interesting to the keyboard warriors and amateur internet detectives.”
He’s right. It’s the top trending story statewide and nationally. When I check my name and Alden’s name, posts and comments still pop up, but they’re fewer and most are a day or two old. Thank fuck the public has the attention span of a puppy.
It’s a relief to come home to an empty street a few hours later, but it’s also late at night, so I’m not confident there won’t be people stalking us or taking pictures once they realize we’re back. It’s so good to have Alden home and to sleep in our own bed.
We’re up early the next morning and I’m relieved to see there isn’t anyone parked outside. Alden sits at the kitchen counter, looking through a pile of envelopes when I come downstairs. “Mia dropped off our mail.”
“Are there any threats or anything to worry about?” I ask.
“No, but there are multiple offers for an interview and business cards from ten different journalists.”
“You can toss that shit.” I’ve learned my lesson about interviews.
When we leave for my ultrasound appointment, the street is still empty, and I start to relax a little. Maybe the worst of the madness is really over.
Alden stays by my side when I’m taken to a room by a chipper ultrasound tech. If she recognizes us, she doesn’t mention it. She starts by moving the fetal doppler over my stomach until a whoosh whoosh sound fills the air. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that sound, but it’s the first for Alden.
His eyes widen. “Is that its heartbeat?”
“It is. And a nice healthy one,” the tech replies.
Alden looks down at me and interlaces his fingers with mine. The expression on his face is adorable. I’m watching the reality set in for him.
The tech angles the screen to where we can see it, and Alden squeezes my hand at the sight. She talks to us as she takes measurements, pointing out the head and spine. “Everything looks good. Right where we’d expect you to be. Are you wanting to know the sex?”
I look up at Alden to make sure he hasn’t changed his mind. He nods at me, his eyes stuck to the monitor.
“Yes, we want to know.”
The tech smiles at me. “You’re having a baby girl.”
Alden beams at me and my heart swells in my chest. “You called it.”
He seems lost for words. Both of us are quiet as she wipes the ultrasound jelly off my stomach and prints out a few pictures for us. Alden can’t take his eyes off one of them as we take the elevator down and exit the building.
Bitterly cold wind cuts through my coat, but he doesn’t seem to feel it. He stops just outside and looks up from the picture to me. “It was worth it, El. Every moment of terror and pain. Every day of fighting my own brain. All the times I looked in a mirror and saw a wounded stranger.” He runs a hand absently over the scar on his neck. “Running, hiding, going to jail. It was all worth it to get here.” His finger trails over the picture. “To get to our daughter.” Glassy eyes catch mine. “To us.”
There are times when I think I can’t love this man more, but he always proves me wrong. I kiss his cool lips and lay my hand on his scruffy jaw. “You’re going to be a wonderful father and I can’t wait to see it.”
He takes my hand on our walk back to the car. With the heat blasting, I rub my hands in front of the vent to get feeling back in my fingers. “Do you still want to go to the shop?”
“Yes, my truck is there too.”
