Seven of Hearts

25. Logan

25

LOGAN

“ W hat do you mean I failed the second test?” Leah growled.

I had never seen her like this before. When the doctor said that the results from her first test were less than optimum and asked that Leah do the second, much longer, glucose screening the following day, we thought for sure it was just a “better safe than sorry situation.”

On top of the bad news, Leah had to fast before the test. Hangry and scared was a diabolical combination.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, so we’re going to tackle the next steps piece by piece,” the doctor reassured her. “But it’s not your fault. Your body is just working overtime to take care of the baby, and it’s forgetting to take care of you too. You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay? Gestational diabetes is not at all uncommon, and it’s manageable. It just means we make a different game plan.”

Shit. Leah was shaking. Her fists were balled up and her breathing was shallow. I draped my arm around her and gently stroked her bicep while the doctor went on about the lifestyle and meal plan she would need to follow.

“Now,” the doctor said with a sigh. “Usually we give you a week or two to try to manage it with diet and exercise. But after looking at the intake form with your current diet and levels of exercise, there’s not much I think you could change unless you started running marathons.” She tried to offer a warm smile, but it fell flat with Leah.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said discreetly, hiding it with a kiss to her hair.

But Leah didn’t make any effort to acknowledge me or the doctor. She looked halfway between numb and terrified as she stared at the tray of blood sugar testing supplies.

“So. Let’s talk about testing your blood sugar at home,” the doctor said. “I’m going to go over the how-tos of everything with you, but don’t worry about remembering all the numbers. We have a take-home packet for you and some supplies here so we can go through the process together.” She picked up a small tubular object. “This is your lancing device.” She held out each piece as she went and showed how they went together. “It’s what pricks your finger to get a few droplets of blood.”

Leah’s eyes went wide. “Wait. You expect me to do that to myself?”

The doctor lifted an incredulous eyebrow. “How else do you plan on testing your blood sugar?”

“Your sarcasm can take a backseat. She’s scared and this is new. An ounce of empathy will go further than giving her an attitude,” I snapped.

The doctor looked up at me, opening and closing her mouth as she tried to conjure some snarky retort, but it never came.

Leah leaned on me as we watched each step of how to test her blood sugar and dispose of the lancets and test strips.

“I can’t do this,” Leah whispered when the doctor turned her back to type out the insulin prescription and send it to Leah’s pharmacy. “I have passed out every single time I’ve gotten blood drawn here. Do you remember when you had to literally carry me out of here during the first glucose test because I was still woozy? How the hell am I supposed to take care of Gio and Ellie when I have to pass out four times a day?”

She hunched forward and dropped her head into her hands. At least it was Friday, and Gio and Ellie were going to a friend’s house after school so Leah didn’t have to pick them up until after dinner.

The clouds over our heads cast morose shadows as we left the doctor’s office for the second time with our tails between our legs.

“Let’s grab something to eat,” I said as I opened her door. “I know you’re starving.”

Leah hadn’t been able to eat for twelve hours before the test, through the three-hour duration of the test, and the hour it took for us to get the results and the next steps from the doctor.

“I’m not hungry,” Leah said as she buckled her seatbelt. “I’d rather just go home.”

I slid in behind the wheel and shut the door. “Sweetheart, not eating isn’t the solution. It’s going to make you feel worse.”

Leah just rested her head on the window and closed her eyes.

It was time to bring out the big guns. “If you’re a good girl and eat lunch, we can go to the thrift store and hardware store and hunt for pieces for the house.”

Her eyebrow lifted, and she peered out of the corner of her eye.

“ After we go to the pharmacy,” I added on.

Leah huffed. “I can’t believe you’re bribing me with furniture.”

“Kylie was hunting for some pieces for one of her events and told me that there’s a Moses basket bassinet at an antique store over in Morehead.”

“Now I know you’re just making things up,” she said with a sigh.

I slowed to a stop at a red light and handed her my phone. “Open my messages. Look at the picture she sent.”

Leah swiped through my phone and opened my text thread with my sister. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her face shift from annoyance to surprise.

“I told you so,” I teased her. “Ky said it’s pretty sturdy but it might need to have the joints reinforced and a new liner put on.”

“We’ll still need a regular crib,” Leah said as she studied the picture.

“Fine. We don’t have to go see it if you don’t want to,” I said with complete sincerity. I knew Leah was bluffing, but I was willing to play her game.

She cut her eyes at me. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go see it.”

By the time we made it back to her apartment with the bassinet in tow, Leah’s spirits were mildly lifted.

“What do you think about the name Nolan?” I asked.

Leah paused in thought as she stuck the other half of her leftover chicken wrap in the fridge. “I don’t hate it.”

I lifted an eyebrow as I hefted the Moses basket into the living room and stuck it with the boxes that were ready to go to the new house as soon as we got the key. “I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then.”

“There was this kid in Gio’s class two years ago that was an absolute turd. His name was Nolan.”

I snickered. “Who knew naming a baby was less about finding a name you like and more about avoiding names that might doom the kid to a life of being an asshole?”

She cracked a smile, but it immediately fell when I slid the plastic grocery bag from the pharmacy off of my arm and onto the kitchen counter. I glanced at the time, and knew she was thinking the same thing.

“Do you want some privacy or do you want some moral support?” I asked.

The doctor had given her strict instructions for when to start her testing and insulin regimen. It didn’t leave any time for wrapping her head around it.

Leah looked a little green at the idea. “I—I don’t know.”

“All right.” I opened the bag and unpacked the supplies for her. “I’m gonna grab my laptop and get through some emails. Let me know if you need help, okay?”

I slipped into the bedroom and closed the door, but didn’t latch it. I could still hear Leah rustling around in the kitchen.

I had six emails cleared when the sniffling started. “Leah, you okay?” I called.

Her “yeah” was pitiful.

I closed my laptop and left it on the bed. “Baby...” I said when I walked out of the bedroom and found her hunched over the kitchen island in tears.

“I can’t do it,” she whimpered. “I—I tried and I just can’t.”

Instead of problem solving, I held her. “Just breathe. We’ll figure it out.”

“How am I supposed to take care of a baby if I can’t even take care of myself?”

“This is you taking care of yourself. Sometimes it’s not easy or pleasant. What you’re doing right now—that’s you being a good mom because you have to take care of yourself first.”

“Being pregnant is hard,” she admitted. “There are so many decisions and so much is changing...”

“I know,” I whispered as I kissed her temple. “I’m sorry I can’t carry more of the burden, and I’m sorry that it was put on you without warning.”

Leah wiped her eyes. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it to forty weeks,” she admitted. “I can’t do this once, much less four times a day until the baby’s here.”

“Let me help you. It’s what I’m here for. Not because there’s going to be a baby in a few months, but because you’re here right now. And wherever you are is where I want to be. So let me help.”

Leah waited while I cleared a space on the kitchen table between her stamp collection and the pressed flowers she was working on. I pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.

“Come here,” I said, patting my thigh. “Sit on my lap.”

Leah tried to shuffle between me and the table with her back to me, but I grabbed her hips and turned her to face me.

“Sit down and straddle my hips. Eyes on me.” I held her ass as she carefully maneuvered and eased down on my lap. “There you go,” I said as I grabbed one of the alcohol swabs. “Which hand do you want me to do?”

Reluctantly, she offered her left hand. I tore into the alcohol swab and gently cleaned the pad of her finger.

“Rest your head on my shoulder,” I said as I inserted the test strip into the blood glucose monitor and loaded the lancet. “Deep breaths. Just close your eyes and relax.”

“Easier said than done,” she grumbled into my neck.

“Just try for me,” I said as I braced her finger to keep it still.

Leah tensed when she felt the lancet brush against her skin.

“Just breathe. Keep your eyes closed. It’s been a long day and I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Are you trying to hypnotize me?” she retorted.

I chuckled. “Is it working?”

“No. You’re a terrible hypnotist?—”

I pressed the release button on the lancet and pricked her finger as soon as she was distracted. Leah let out a squeak and pressed her forehead into my shoulder.

“You’re doing great,” I said as I squeezed her finger and held the end of the test strip against the droplet of blood pearling on her finger. “Don’t look,” I said when enough blood had drawn up for the glucose meter to start registering it.

I set the meter on the table, grabbed a tissue, and pressed it to her finger. “You did great,” I said as I rubbed her back.

Feeling Leah cling to me was...Shit. It wasn’t just nice or comforting. It was everything.

She was trusting me. Relying on me. It made me feel needed. But more than that, it made me feel wanted.

Leah sat up and let out a shaky breath as she dabbed her finger. I grabbed the little circle Band-Aid from the table and pressed it to the pad of her finger.

She held it out to me. “You have to kiss it and make it better.”

I smirked and went for her lips instead. “Better?”

She nodded as the glucose meter finished testing the strip. We both glanced at the reading.

Leah’s face fell as she glanced from the meter to the printed chart the doctor had given us that detailed what each number and range meant. “It’s high.”

“We knew it was going to be high,” I said gently as I tucked her hair behind her ear. “And now we’re going to do what we have to do to manage it.”

She eyed the insulin pen.

“You can do this, honeybee,” I said as I went through all the safety checks, even though the pharmacist had just done it a few hours ago when she demonstrated how it worked, and loaded us up with all the supplies and accessories Leah would need.

I removed the cap, fitted the new needle in the tip, checked the dose, and pushed the injection button until a bead of clear liquid appeared at the head of the needle.

“Do you want it in your arm or your thigh?” I asked.

“Neither,” she grumbled. “But I guess my arm today. We have to rotate injection sites anyway. We’ll make our way around eventually.”

Leah shimmied one arm out of her sweater and rested her forearm on top of her bump, giving me access to her bicep.

“Is he kicking right now?” I asked as I cleaned her arm with another alcohol wipe.

Leah laid her head back on my shoulder and nodded. “Mhmm. Can you feel it?”

“Yeah,” I said as I grabbed the insulin pen. “Deep breaths for me. Close your eyes.”

The baby chose that moment to tumble hard against her belly button.

Her lips twitched. “Maybe he knows you’re pressed up against me. Or maybe he can hear both of our heartbeats.”

“You know what I think?” I gently pinched her bicep to keep the skin tight, inserted the needle, and pressed the injection button. “I think he’s in there cheering you on because you’re doing something really hard that’s gonna keep both of you safe.”

Leah sucked in a sharp breath and whimpered at the bite of pain.

I held the needle steady as the flow of insulin finished. “Are you dizzy?”

Leah nodded.

“Just stay like that and rest. We don’t have anywhere to be right now,” I said as I dropped the needle into the sharps container and put the cap back on the pen. “There’s no hurry. You took that like a champ.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

I laughed, because I had no idea why she was thanking me. Me and my faulty condom had gotten us into this mess.

“For being the best baby daddy,” she said.

Maybe life being messy wasn’t always a bad thing. Maybe it didn’t have to be perfect. Maybe we could just feel our way through and figure it out. Maybe mistakes weren’t bad. Maybe they were just detours that took us to a better, more perfect destination.

To that perfect, messy love.