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I want to touch it, to feel what’s there, but the doctor squirts a clear, thick liquid onto her abdomen before I can move.
The device is tiny and fits his mobile phone into the top of it. I don’t know what the fuck to expect. I’ve never seen an ultrasound, so I hold my breath as the doctor presses a probe onto Skye’s stomach.
“At this stage, we’re not going to see a fully formed fetus—if we can see anything at all—but hopefully, I should be able to see the gestational sac.”
“What about a heartbeat?”
“It really depends. Six weeks is early for that, but sometimes it can be picked up. This device isn’t as good as the machines we have in the hospital, so I’m not sure what we’ll see.”
Her eyes lock on the ceiling, and I don’t breathe as the doctor moves the probe around her stomach, his eyes locked on the device.
“As I expected, I can’t really see anything.”
Disappointment floods me, and the strength of that feeling rocks me to my core. This isn’t a fairy tale relationship where I’m thrilled at the prospect of having a baby.
Skye and I are strangers, joined only by a bunch of cells that don’t even show on his fucking piece of shit device.
“It would be better to have the vaginal probe.” He glares at me. Does he want another beating? “Are you having morning sickness, Skye?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“She projectile vomited less than an hour ago,” I interject.
The doctor ignores me, focusing only on Skye. “And you’re eating okay?”
“I’m trying to. It’s hard sometimes between the nausea and the vomiting.”
“I can give you something for the morning sickness if you need it. I’m also going to test for anaemia and any vitamin deficiencies. Are you taking folic acid?”
“No. What’s that?”
“It’s a medication that is needed in the first trimester to keep your baby growing well. I’ll write you a prescription for it. You need to take it until you’re around twelve weeks.”
“I’ll take whatever is needed,” she assures him.
He grabs a paper towel from his bag and wipes it over her stomach. I grab his wrist, stopping him, and the air becomes thick.
He doesn’t want to, but he relinquishes his hold on the towel and moves away to clean up his stuff.
I glare at him before taking the towel and slowly cleaning the gel off her stomach. She doesn’t stop me, but I feel the weight of her stare as I take care of her. When I’m finished, I toss the dirty towels on the bedside table and help her sit up.
“Thank you,” she says softly, her palm warm against mine. “I wish we could have seen her.”
“Yeah, me too.” As I say this, I realise how true it is. I’m terrified of all this, but I’m disappointed we didn’t get to see the baby.
The doctor stands, his kit packed up. “Get plenty of rest, try to minimise stress, and keep on top of mealtimes. If you have bleeding or cramps, get checked out.”
He doesn’t look at either of us as he says this, and I follow him as he walks to the door.
He turns to me before he opens it. “The first trimester has the greatest risk for miscarriage. Be careful with her.”
He leaves the room, and I shut the door behind him, taking a moment to catch my breath before I turn back to Skye. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her hand pressed against her stomach, and the look of serenity in her eyes hits me right in the fucking gut.
There is no way in hell she’s going to remain that happy, because whether we like it or not, we’re caught up in a hurricane, and there’s no escaping the strength of the storm that’s coming for us.
CHAPTER5
SKYE
