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I’m stunned into silence as I watch Pebbles talk to Dr. Murphy freely and without hesitation. I’m so fucking happy she’s comfortable talking to certain people, but I won’t lie that it hurts like hell that I don’t fall on the list of those people.
“You must be Jamie,” Dr. Murphy says, turning to me. “I’m Dr. Murphy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard so many good things. I wanted to thank you for taking care of my girl.” I smile at the woman.
“Oh it’s my pleasure, Heather is a treat.”
Pebbles blushes as we both look at her.
“Okay, now let’s get this started. Do you guys want to hear the babies?”
Pebbles nods enthusiastically and my palms start to sweat.
After helping Pebbles lay back on the exam table, Dr. Murphy helps her lift her shirt before pressing a gelled probe to her stomach. A second later, a whooshing sound echoes throughout the room and my eyes jump from where the doctor is touching Pebbles’s stomach to her eyes and my heart clenches at the tears I find there, matching my own. She smiles and holds her hand out to me.
I scramble out of my chair and settle at the side of her bed, holding onto her small hand for dear life.
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss every knuckle as Dr. Murphy slides the probe to the other side of her belly and more whooshing comes from the small machine. I almost pass out as Pebbles giggles when I absently tickle her fingers against my mustache.
Dr. Murphy cleans off Pebbles’s belly before pulling her shirt back down. I stay at her side as Dr. Murphy asks her different questions about how she’s been feeling. Pebbles does a shimmy of excitement when Dr. Murphy tells us that we get to find out if we are having boys, girls, or one of each at the next appointment.
Before she leaves the room, Dr. Murphy encourages Pebbles to look into the birthing class she offers, and I make a mental note to ask about that later.
I can see Pebbles begin to retreat into herself once again as soon as the doctor leaves the room, sheltering me in the familiar and lonely silence to which I’ve grown accustomed to. I try to brush it off as the nurse brings us back out to the check out. I let Pebbles make her next appointment and use my hand on her lower back to lead her towards the car.
I send a text to Ghost letting him know we’re on the way. Once we’re on the highway, Pebbles rests her head against the window with a small smile on her face.
Every opportunity I get, my eyes leave the road, settling on the side of her face.
Over the last couple months, I’ve tried imaging what our kids will look like. Will they have her red hair or my blonde hair? It’s a given that they will have brown eyes, but will they be chocolate like mine or a beautiful amber like their mother’s?
When we get back into Desert Rose, my palms start to sweat against the steering wheel as I worry over whether or not this is a good idea.
Pebbles perks up when she notices I turn onto a side street. She turns to look at me and I smile softly at her. “We gotta make a pit stop really quick.”
I pull the SUV into the strip mall's parking lot and, in my peripheral vision, I can see her looking around at the building.
Thankfully, it seems like everyone that came drove together and not on their bikes. There are two bikes parked at the end of the building, but I don’t think Pebbles has noticed them.
I hop out of the SUV. Retrieving my cut from the backseat and settle it over my shoulders, meeting Pebbles around the front of the car. I reach my hand out for her and, timidly, she takes it.
The strip mall still looks like a big pile of shit. The ends of the structure are the only two parts that look new and remodeled. Ghost has a few plans for the rest, but we’ve put all of our time and energy into the studio for Pebbles and the daycare. He hasn’t had the chance to begin work on the four smaller storefronts.
The studio end of the building is painted a deep purple and I laugh as I see the windows lined in purple neon lights. In one window there is a LED sign shaped into a pair of ballet shoes. Pebbles stops in her tracks and looks at the studio with wide eyes.
“Jamie… What is this?” Her small voice saying my given name causes a palpitation in my chest and I smile at her, pulling her to follow me the rest of the way to the studio.
Her sandals slap against the pavement as I drag her the rest of the way through the uneven parking lot.
When we get to the doors of the studio, she slaps her free hand against her mouth and a sob breaks free as she sees the paper sign taped to the door.
In horrible handwriting akin to chicken scratch, which I’m going to assume is Ghost’s,Pebbles Studiois scrawled on a piece of copy paper in purple Sharpie.
“W-what?” she stammers, looking at me with tears rolling down her cheeks.
I give her the biggest smile I can muster and pull the door open for her, letting her walk into her brand new studio by herself.
The entrance is empty and I watch her in awe as she takes in the space that is all hers.
