Because of Them (Because of Love #2)

Chapter Fifteen

MICHAEL

M y knee bounces. Underneath me, the hard plastic chair works to slowly steal all feeling from my butt. The air is stale and smells so strongly of cleaning products that each inhale burns my windpipe.

Beside me, Audrey crosses one leg over the other. Her ankle flicks in tiny, rapid movements, as shaky as her breaths. The twenty weeks banana I brought bounces in her lap, untouched.

I lean across the armrest to nudge my shoulder against hers and nod towards the two kids playing in the corner. The smallest bites a book made of thick cardboard while the other runs in circles, holding a small plastic ambulance. It’s seen better days, that ambulance, but the kid waves it around all the same screaming “nee naw nee naw.” The brightness of the toys and books is a stark contrast to the rows of pale grey chairs and the dirty white walls.

“Did they get invited to Maisie’s graduation party?”

Audrey tugs at her ear. Her shoulders round down as she folds into herself like she might be able to hide from the noise. With delicate fingers, she peels the banana, taking a bite and chewing slowly.

“It was weeks ago. Will you please drop it?”

I would. I should, probably. But there is something about the hint of guilt that flashes across Audrey’s face every time I bring it up. The way she smiles to herself when she thinks I’m no longer watching. If I took a guess, I’d say she feels bad about it now, but there is some part of her that is happy about it. Not the fact she didn’t invite me, but the fact I care.

She didn’t think I would be interested, and I don’t blame her for that. But I would have gone. Less for Maisie and more for Audrey. So that she knows I’m ready to show up for every milestone, big and small. Not just for the baby we share but for the family we are about to become. Even though she might not see us as a family yet.

Today though, the guilt is replaced by something that looks like a mild annoyance. Her gaze flips up to meet mine before dropping back to her lap.

“Audrey?”

I hesitate, my hand lingering over hers before I let it drop. She flinches at the touch, but doesn’t pull away as I lace our fingers together.

“I’m sorry, okay. I’ll stop bringing it up.” And I’ll add the fact that I kept bringing it up to the list of things I keep getting wrong here.

From behind the desk, a nurse calls out a name. A mother scoops up the youngest child, prying the book away and dropping it on the floor. Audrey watches as they walk past, the mother hobbling, belly swollen and with a toddler on her hip. She uses the arm rests of the empty chairs for balance as she goes.

“Thank you for coming,” Audrey says, long after the woman has passed. “I’m glad I don’t have to be alone again.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at the last one. I mean, I get why you hadn’t told me then. I’m sorry you felt that you couldn’t.” I’ll be sorry that my actions made her feel that way for the rest of my life. I’ll try to make it up to her every single day.

She leans her head down against the crook of my neck and I squeeze her hand.

“What if the baby—”

“Shh,” I silence her worries. Truthfully, I’m worried too. But I know for the most part, we shouldn’t be. We have nothing to worry about. All Audrey’s check-ups have been fine. The baby’s heartbeat has been steady at every appointment. Her stomach is growing—beautifully I might add—the perfect amount. Her other symptoms are easing.

“I just hope everything is okay.”

“It will be.”

The child in the corner finally quits the “nee naw-ing” and silence falls across the waiting room. The sound of doors opening and closing echoes down the corridor, and the receptionist taps away at her computer. Up on the wall, a mid-morning talk show plays on the TV; volume down, delayed captions on. I try to watch, but the delay makes the show impossible to follow. It looks like they are about to start baking, but the captions discuss a surfboarding dog.

Audrey keeps her head on my shoulder, her breaths deep and forced. The longer we wait, the more worried she becomes, wriggling her ankle again as she chews at her nails.

“Audrey Wilson?” A petite lady steps into the waiting room. Her floral, frilly top is so bright I have to squint my eyes. Not at all the pale blue scrubs all the nurses are wearing.

“Fuck.” Audrey reaches beside her to grab her bag and I help her stand. We follow the lady in the bright top down the corridor, around a bend, and into a darkened room. Somehow, her shirt still shines fluorescent pink in the dim lighting.

“Before we start, I need to change my surname on the file,” Audrey announces as she sits on the reclined chair in the centre of the room.

The ultrasound technician clicks away at her computer, not turning to face Audrey when she answers. “I can’t do that here, but from what I can see Wilson is the surname on your Medicare card? The file has to match so that we can bulk bill the appointments.”

Audrey’s face drops. She closes her eyes to contemplate before reaching into her bag and pulling out a pen. On the back of her hand she scrawls the word ‘Wilson’.

“It’s Callum’s surname. You need to remind me to change it back to Baker. I keep forgetting.”

I want to tell her it’s not worth changing back to her maiden name when she could take mine instead.

I’ve never cared much for the name Bird, hated all the dumb nicknames that came with it at school. But all of a sudden, I wouldn’t mind it on her and I’m starting to think of all the ways I could make that happen. Which scares me, thrills me, and has me wringing my hands together. This is not what Audrey needs right now. I’ve gone from ten to three thousand in the space of two minutes all because we started talking about her last name. But then, maybe that is what she needs, so she knows I mean it when I say I’ll stick around. I can’t get caught up about it now though, so I squeeze the thoughts back down as I sit in the chair next to Audrey’s recliner.

“I’ll remind you.”

I suck in more air than my lungs should be able to handle. Push my shoulders back further than they should rest. Ignore the way my skin tingles where Audrey’s hand rests against my forearm. Fun, she said. I might be the father of her baby, but I’m nothing more than a casual fling to Audrey. I didn’t even get an invite to her daughter’s kindergarten graduation, and I’d do well to remember that. After too long in silence, Audrey squeezes my arm before pulling her hand back to lift her top.

We don’t make small talk with the technician as she deposits gooey gel onto Audrey’s stomach. The soft purr of the ultrasound machine and the clicking of keys echo through the otherwise silent room. A tension has been added to the room at the mention of surnames, and all three of us know it. My knee bounces, as unsteady as my breaths and as rapid as my pulse.

Audrey pulls her lip back between her teeth and I fight to keep my eyes away. Fight to keep my mind off how she did the exact same thing when she was trying to be quiet. I try, with everything I can, not to think about the moans that escaped anyway, or how they reverberated through every bone in my body, perfectly in sync with the way my cock throbbed inside her pussy. Nope, definitely not thinking about that.

I shift in my seat, doing what little I can to hide the bulge growing in my pants.

“Sorry,” the ultrasound technician murmurs when she reaches over to press the wand against Audrey’s belly. She pushes hard against the soft flesh, creating a divot right on the side where I always imagined the baby’s head to be. Audrey winces, wriggling on the recliner.

Dub, dub-dub, dub-dub-dub.

The heartbeat sounds irregular. Faster than a racehorse, but with just as many hooves.

Audrey looks to me, then to the technician, who’s screen is still facing away from us. She clicks her tongue, wriggling the wand some more with her focus intently on her computer.

Then, the heartbeat settles. It’s still fast, but it sounds more like I always assumed a heartbeat would. She moves the wand some more, and the steady thumps double. Moving across to Audrey’s other side, the heartbeat sounds normal again.

All the while Audrey stares up at me, two thin lines between her brows. She pokes her tongue out to wet her swollen and cracked lower lip.

I cup her face, rubbing my thumb along her lip while my fingers caress her cheek. I have no idea what’s going on, but I will not let her see my fear. Audrey places her hand over mine, closing her eyes and leaning into the touch. Her lip trembles.

“Has anyone ever mentioned the possibility of multiples?”

The technician’s voice sends a shockwave through the room. Audrey’s eyes snap open and I rip my hand back from her. We turn in unison to face the technician.

“What?”

Beaming, the technician turns her computer screen so we can all see. The display is a blur of static grey until she presses the wand back against Audrey’s bump. The heartbeat settles to a steady rhythm and a tiny baby starts to form on the screen. An oversized head, sure, but two arms, two legs kicking away.

“This is baby number one.” She moves the wand across Audrey’s middle. The image on the screen returns to the grey static and the heartbeat doubles, not quite in time. “And from in the middle you can hear both heartbeats, I’m trying to get a shot of the babies together but the best I can get is this view of the top of their heads.”

The screen shows two grey blobs, almost touching.

“And then, over here is baby number two.” She stretches across to press the wand against the other side of Audrey’s stomach, and a second baby comes to life on the screen. Two more arms, two more legs, another oversized head.

“Two,” Audrey whispers on an exhale, staring at the screen.

“Two,” I repeat, unintentionally pulling back.

“Michael?” Her voice is distant. “Is everything okay?”

“Michael?”

“It will be.” I choke out. It will have to be.

So, I suck it up. I paint on the face of a man about to become the father of twins. A wide smile, a twinkle in my eye. I don’t let on that the moisture there is out of fear, not joy.

The rest of the appointment passes in a blur. Two. Two babies. And I was only just getting used to the idea of having one. We drive home without words, only the rumble of the diesel engine and the faint midday radio show breaking the silence floating between us. I have no idea if Audrey is freaking out just like I am. If she is scared or worried, or maybe she is overcome with joy. Is she worried I’ll run?

Pulling into her long driveway, I rest a hand on her knee. Her breath catches as a single tear falls from the otherwise impenetrable mask on her face.

“I’m here, Audrey.” Because I am, no matter how much I’m panicking on the inside. I am here for her, for them. I doubt I have the maturity to be the best father in the world. I know I’m immature and forgetful and I can’t take anything seriously. But I will always be there, with whatever they need. For those babies and for Audrey.

She scoffs, mumbling to herself as she gets out of the car.

I throw the parking brake on to follow her up the steps to her house.

“Audrey, I mean it. I am here, and I know this is unexpected and, fuck, it scares the shit out of me. But we are in this together and I mean that with every piece of my body. I might not be the man you wanted to have another baby with, if you ever wanted that, and I can probably never become that guy. But I will do everything to be the man you and those babies deserve.”

Her shoulders shake as she pulls her arms around her front. I close the gap, enveloping her in my own arms as she sniffles into my shoulder.

“Hey, I look after two dogs all the time when my parents are out of town. I can handle two babies.”

Audrey laughs against me. Her body relaxes into the embrace and she squeezes her arms out from between us to wrap them around my middle.

“Michael?”

I hum into her hair, enjoying the breathlessness in her voice a little too much.

“You know babies are very different from dogs, right?”