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“You've already tried. I don't think anything you say to her will be enough.”
I know it isn't. I also know she refused to speak to the therapist I brought in last week and then refused to speak to me for five days afterward. I received a chillyheyyesterday, which sadly was a step up.
“You can't put this on yourself,” I remind her as gently and kindly as I can. She doesn't need to be upset, not when she's already had more than enough reason to be. What she needs now is peace, protection. There's no choice but to swallow back the burning impulse to take control, which I know by now would only make things immeasurably worse.
“I can't help it. She's been a sister to me all these years. I want…” A tiny laugh bursts out of her. “I want to be excited over the baby without feeling guilty, but I can't because every time I look at her I feel like I'm rubbing that joy in her face.”
Taking one of her soft, smooth hands between mine, I murmur, “You can't control anyone else's reactions. You can only give them space and time to adjust to change.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Listen to you. Did you hand in your criminal degree and go to school to be a shrink overnight?”
“I might have had a chat with the doctor, myself. In hopes of learning how to handle this all. I want to be supportive and help Tatum, but you can't help someone who doesn't want to help themselves.”
Finally, she leans against me, and I stroke her hair. “I feel bad for being happy.”
“In her heart, she wouldn't want that. I know it. I'm sure you do, too.”
“I guess I do,” she admits. “Still, it's hard because I see how sad she is, and how happy I am, so it just doesn't feel right.”
“I understand, only let's try to focus on what a good day this should be. We get to see the baby, and maybe if we're lucky, we can find out if it's a boy or a girl?”
Bianca frowns, “I'm sorry, but I think it's still too early for that. Without a blood test, at least. I was looking it up online.”
“Either way. I want to ensure everything's where it needs to be and that you're healthy. In time Tatum will come around.” Now I'm talking out of my ass, because the fact is I can't guarantee that. I don't know what it will take to make my daughter happy again.
“This doesn't look like a doctor's office,” Bianca points out when we pull to a stop in front of a small, nondescript building that could easily go unnoticed if someone wasn't looking for it. The rest of the office complex was once a part of what was torn down years ago, with only this single structure remaining.
“He works alone,” I explain. “And he only sees a few private patients.”
She looks at me, understanding dawning on her. “Is he some sort of shady doctor you pay off? Is that where we're going?”
“He's not shady. I trust him,” I counter. “He's never steered me wrong, and he specializes in obstetrics. You'll be in good hands—I would never let anyone touch you if I didn't trust them. You know that, right?”
“Of course.” Still, it does nothing to erase the anxiety in her features. What I don't want to mention, what I would rather not burden her with, is I'd rather not take her somewhere we could be spotted. Somewhere Jack might be able to pay off some dipshit nurse for Bianca's records. Is it likely that would happen? Probably not, but it is a possibility.
“Come in, come in.” Doctor Oscar waves us into the small, outdated waiting room with paneled walls and faded carpet. Do I not pay him enough to renovate? After introducing himself and shaking Bianca's hand, he says, “I understand you're here for an ultrasound today, Bianca.”
“That's what I've been told,” Bianca jokes with a nervous laugh. True, this was my idea, but I hate seeing her so nervous.
He offers a grandfatherly chuckle that matches his general appearance and demeanor before patting her shoulder. “You'll be just fine. Nothing wrong with making sure everybody's healthy. Callum here wouldn't be the first father who wanted a little extra peace of mind.”
We end up in a typical exam room: white walls, a tiled floor, a table complete with stirrups, and an overhead light. The machinery beside the table is, I assume, what will be used for the ultrasound. It's clear the money he hasn't put into renovations has gone to equipment, and I can't pretend to disapprove. The room might be cramped, but my little bird will receive good care and that's all that matters.
He gestures to the folded gown waiting at the foot of the table. “Take your time and make yourself comfortable. I'll need you to strip from the waist down, and you can use the gown for modesty. There's also a sheet you can drape over your legs.”
“Thank you.” She eyes me, but I shake my head. I'm not leaving her alone in here. Not with her looking so jittery and shifting her weight from one foot to the other while her gaze bounces over the instruction posters on the walls. The typical sort of thing you'd find in the doctor's office—anatomy and the like, this time focused on fetal development and the mother's health.
Is she overwhelmed?Still feeling touchy after the conversation with Tatum? No matter the reason, I'm staying with her. The doctor seems to get the hint, offering a small smile before stepping outside and closing the door. He can play the benevolent doctor all he wants, but he knows who pays his bills and keeps him in this office after his penchant for writing scripts for cash got him in trouble.
Once we're alone, she lets out a shaky breath. “I don't know why I'm so nervous,” she confesses with a soft laugh, wringing her hands together.
“You're going to be fine. This is more for my peace of mind than anything. I know they said you were doing okay at the hospital, but I would like to be sure. And hey, we still don't have a due date.”
“That's true.” She goes through the motions of removing her shoes and leggings, then her thong. Once she's seated with the gown covering her, she stares down at her lap and fidgets, picking at her nails.
“Hey. Is there something you're not telling me? Some reason why you're so nervous?” I brace myself, expecting her to tell me she's been cramping or bleeding and didn't want to worry me. It would kill me to lose this baby, but I wouldn't be surprised with all the stress and trauma she's endured, either.
“I don't know. I'm anxious, I guess. I still feel guilty. And I'm afraid all our dreams will be for nothing if we get bad news here.”
