Chapter 43
AVA
“So what are we?”
Anderson raises a brow at me from where he sits on the chair next to where I’m laying on the exam table. We just got into our room for our first doctor’s appointment, and I figured now was as good a time as ever to pose the question that’s been heavy on my mind.
I don’t know if I ever felt the excitement that I imagine most first-time mothers feel when they see the positive pregnancy test. I don’t know if I ever will.
For me, I immediately felt the responsibility—heavy enough to press against my ribs.
In the same way the baby will.
There’s a literal person inside of me.
Not an idea, not a maybe—a human being who is already depending on me in ways I can’t even fully comprehend.
Every thought feels like it matters more now, like there’s a right way and a wrong way to carry this, and I’m somehow supposed to know the difference instinctively.
But I can’t trust instinct.
I need something measurable, something tangible.
Something I can get exactly right, so I know nothing will slip through.
“You really want to have this conversation now?” he asks, a dry chuckle escaping his lips.
I shrug my shoulders, tapping the tips of my shoes together, counting each tap with one part of my brain while the other tries to stay focused on Anderson. “Why shouldn’t we have it now?” I ask.
“I can come up with a few,” he deadpans, squeezing my hand between his fingers just as I get to seventeen. “The first one being that the ultrasound technician will be here any minute.”
I huff out a breath, reaching my hand behind my head where it lays on the exam chair. I don’t tell him that’s exactly why I’m bringing it up right now.
Logically, I’ve known this pregnancy is real since the positive test—all thirty-four of them.
I knew it was real when I told Anderson, and everything between us changed.
I thought accepting these feelings that have grown for him, accepting his feelings for me, was going to be this huge, world-changing event.
The clouds would part, the sun would shine down on us, everyone would stop what they’re doing and wonder why there was such a shift in the atmosphere.
But it wasn’t like that at all.
It was small, intimate—a moment just between the two of us.
A subtle transformation.
Loving Anderson is like the burning embers you think are moments away from burning out. But all they need is a blow, a gust of wind, a wave of oxygen for them to ignite, reminding you that they were always there.
But now that we’re here, in a dark room—surrounded by medical equipment that will not only show the literal human being growing in my body but hear their heartbeat too—there’s no escaping the reality of the situation we’ve gotten ourselves into.
“Seriously, Anderson.” I turn my head to face him. “This isn’t just signatures on a piece of paper like our marriage was.”
Anderson uncrosses his legs, settling his feet down on the ground so he can lean in and press a deep kiss to my lips, one that makes me see stars behind my eyes and feel dizzy, even though I’m laying down.
The words we both have yet to say aloud float between us.
I know I love Anderson—I know he loves me.
But I just can’t get myself to say the words.
I don’t know why—there’s something, some part of me, that is holding myself back.
His features soften as if he can read my thoughts. His lips part, but whatever else he’s about to say dies on his lips as a soft knock sounds at the door before the technician comes in.
She’s about my age, her blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail in a scrunchie that matches her salmon-colored scrubs. “Ready, Mrs. Montgomery?” she asks, and I don’t know how long it’ll take to get used to hearing my new last name.
When I told Anderson I was pregnant, he insisted that Georgie and I get on his health insurance, and since we were already doing all the paperwork for that, I figured, why not change my last name? I have no ties to the last name Williams—I don’t even know the man it belongs to.
It never connected me to my sisters since we all had our dads’ last name. I don’t even share it with my mom—she has Steven’s last name, and so does Georgie.
It never felt like mine.
But I haven’t told Anderson yet.
“Ready,” I answer as the ultrasound technician lowers into her chair on the other side of the exam chair. She lays a paper cover over me as I lift up my sweater, exposing my belly.
It hasn’t changed much. If anything, it might seem a little more bloated than usual.
I don’t know how it will feel to have my body change—it’s a weird feeling knowing there are small, subtle changes happening every second yet not being able to see them until enough of them have compiled to make the change big enough to see.
She squeezes a cold gel on my skin, using the probe-like tool connected to the machine in front of her to press against my belly, moving it around as she watches the screen.
There’s a big screen in front of me, one that shows the same thing on her screen, so Anderson and I watch as the black and white swirls and blobs turn into something more recognizable, like what I’ve seen on TV.
Anderson squeezes my hand as we watch, the room quiet aside from the occasional beeping or the footsteps outside the closed door.
The silence in the room makes me feel immediately uneasy, my mind telling me that something is wrong.
I feel my heart rate quicken and my breaths come in shallower.
What if she can’t find the heartbeat?
What if I did something wrong? What if I already fucked this up?
What if I lost this before I even had the chance to want it?
My inhales come in shaky, my exhales quick.
One.
Two.
Three.
“And there we are,” the technician says as a tiny, bean-like blob becomes clearer, and a gasp escapes my lips, my counting forgotten as a loud thumping noise sounds through the speakers.
“Wow,” Anderson breathes, and I look over to find his other hand coming to his mouth, his eyes staring directly at the screen.
“And there’s our heartbeat.” The technician holds the probe against my stomach, pushing in harder than I expected, but I don’t care.
I stare at the screen, feeling an overwhelming rush of love that I didn’t know was possible. It’s like I can almost feel my brain rewiring, my priorities shifting, my nervous system reinventing itself—all with the purpose of keeping this tiny little life safe.
Because that’s the baby’s heartbeat.
My baby’s heartbeat.
I turn to find Anderson watching me, and a tear falls down his cheek. That easy smile curls on his lips just before he brings our interlocked hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand.
Our baby’s heartbeat.
“Eleven weeks,” I say, more to myself than to Anderson as I hold one of the ultrasound pictures.
The technician put me just under twelve weeks before printing out a line of photos and sending us back to the waiting room for our appointment with one of the doctors here at the practice.
There have been so many emotions in just the half hour since we got here, and I find myself feeling almost numb to them now—like my body needs a moment to reset.
It’s not a bad sensation, and I’m thankful for the reprieve, allowing myself just to focus on the picture of this baby in my hand. A real, tangible photo of the life growing inside of me right now.
It’s sort of a mindfuck.
With this pregnancy being unplanned—pretty much the definition of accidental—there has been so much back and forth on what to do.
Ultimately, I decided I wanted to go through with this pregnancy, for no other reason than it’s what I wanted to do.
But it wasn’t until those few seconds before we heard the heartbeat that I realized how much I wanted it.
Not only did I feel a love for this baby when we heard the heartbeat, but I think my love for Anderson rooted deeper inside of me, too.
When I looked over at him, the astonishment on his face as he watched the screen, I knew there is one else I’d rather do this with.
He wears his heart on his sleeve and shows how fiercely he loves through every single one of his actions—I see it with Georgie; I see it with our friends; I see it with me.
And I can’t wait for the day I get to see him do it with our child.
“Ava Montgomery has a nice ring to it,” Anderson says as we head back out to the waiting room.
I smile to myself, then glance toward the nurse’s station before looking back at him.“I think so, too.”
He nods absentmindedly, like he’s stuck in his own head. “How did they even mix up your last name? Isn’t your full name on our insurance? I’m surprised you didn’t correct them.”
“Why would I?” I ask, brushing my shoulders against his as we walk, lowering my voice just enough to make it feel like a secret.
That gets his attention, and he stops midstep
His brows pull together, confusion flickering across his face.
I tilt my head, watching it slowly start to click for him—but not quite all the way. “There’s no need to.”
There’s a beat.
Then another.
And then it hits.
His eyes widen, his whole body going still, like he’s trying to process too many things at once. “Wait—”
I bite back a grin.
“You mean—” He huffs out a disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “No, hold on. You’re serious?”
I shrug, soft but unapologetic. “I don’t see a reason not to be.”
“Ava,” he says, like that somehow explains everything he’s trying to ask.
I step in closer, close enough that he has to look down at me, my voice light but deliberate. “I didn’t want to make a big announcement out of something that already felt like a done deal.”
He stares at me, still caught somewhere between shock and something warmer. He lets out a breath, shaking his head, but there’s a smile breaking through now, slow and real.
My cheeks hurt from how big a grin I realize is on my face as I turn toward the waiting room, like I didn’t just completely knock him off balance.
“And there’s no use pretending there’s anything fake left between us anyway. Not with this,” I tease, handing the ultrasound photo to Anderson as we sit down.
“What did I tell you about using that word?” he asks, plucking the photo from my hand.
My stomach flips at the memory—him telling me he would fuck the word out of my vocabulary with his fingers inside me.
Just before he told me to come for him.
My husband.
I lean into him, making sure the receptionist across the room can’t hear us, or the few other couples in the waiting room. “I can’t remember. Daddy might need to give me a little refresher,” I tease, pressing a soft kiss just below his ear.
Leaning back, I see his eyes widen, a small smirk on his face. “Don’t ‘Daddy’ me,” he scolds, his voice low.
“Why? Does it turn you on?” I ask, and the blush that floods his cheeks makes my entire body go just as warm, loving how much of an effect my words have on him. “Tell me, Daddy,” I go on, “what else can I say to make you blush like that?”
“Keep being a little brat of a wife, and you’ll find out,” he whispers, and it goes straight to my core. “And my handprint on your ass will be just as red.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Keep talking, and you’ll find out.”
“Ava?” A voice calls out, and we both turn to find a nurse holding a clipboard.
Grabbing Anderson’s hand, we both greet the nurse and follow her to the exam room, smiles on our faces, taking along our little secret.
Pretending that we weren’t just whispering dirty thoughts to each other in the corner of the waiting room.
I could get used to this kind of pretending.