Chapter 13 #2
She placed both hands flat against her thighs beneath the table. “I learned I was pregnant the morning before the appointment. The doctor needed to confirm the dates.”
“You could have called me.” Hudson’s voice tightened around the accusation. “I would have come immediately.”
“I needed to know what was happening in my body before I told anyone.” Abby rested one hand against the envelope. “I am allowed to receive medical care privately.”
“I’m not just anyone.” Hudson’s voice rose enough for the woman at the next table to glance toward them. He noticed and immediately lowered it. “I had a right to be there.”
“You have an interest in the pregnancy. That does not give you ownership of my medical appointments.”
Hudson stared at her. His eyes moved toward Sadie again, and Abby knew he was deciding whether the sentence belonged to her sister, Evan, or the nurse who had offered resources.
“Someone has been coaching you,” he said. “You didn’t speak this way before.”
“Before what?” Abby asked as she waited for him to complete the thought. “Before I left you?”
“Before you decided I couldn’t be trusted.” He looked wounded by the implication he had supplied himself. “I have never hurt you.”
Abby remembered his body blocking the apartment door and his hand reaching around Evan in the hotel corridor. She also remembered hundreds of ordinary arguments that ended when she accepted his interpretation because continuing had become too exhausting.
“I will decide who attends my medical appointments.”
“Then I’m asking.” Hudson spread one hand against the table and restored the tone he used in negotiations. “When is the next appointment?”
Abby had anticipated the question. “Three weeks from Tuesday.”
“I’ll be there.” Hudson reached for his phone, already preparing to enter the appointment. “Send me the time and address.”
“I will send you the information.” Abby paused before continuing. “The appointment is about the baby’s health. If you use it to discuss our relationship or pressure me in front of the staff, I won’t invite you to the next one.”
“You can’t threaten to revoke access to my own child.” Hudson set the phone down with more force than necessary. “You’re already treating the baby as leverage.”
“I’m telling you what I need in order to feel comfortable having you in the room.” Abby kept her voice steady. “Whether you respect it is your decision.”
Hudson leaned back. His disappointment looked almost genuine, as though Abby had violated an agreement they made before she arrived.
“My mother will want to come,” he said as though her attendance had already been arranged. “She has waited years for a grandchild.”
“No.” Abby refused before he could build obligation around the request. “The appointment will be limited to you and me.”
“You haven’t even considered it.” Hudson looked offended by the speed of her answer. “She would support you.”
“The room is small, and I don’t want an audience.” Abby picked up the envelope and aligned it with the table. “My medical care is not a family event or a spectator sport.”
“She considers you a daughter.” Hudson picked up the coffee again, though it had gone untouched. “After the way you canceled the wedding without even speaking to her, allowing her to attend would be a decent gesture.”
Abby felt a pang of guilt. She had blocked Hudson’s family members on her phone after she’d cancelled the wedding, unwilling to face the barage of questions she’d get.
In his voice she heard the new debt forming.
Julia’s affection, the calligrapher’s deposit, and the canceled wedding would all become reasons Abby owed the Covingtons access to every intimate detail of her pregnancy.
“I will speak to Julia myself,” she said. “Do not tell your parents until I’ve had that conversation.”
Hudson looked toward the ultrasound envelope. “Show me the picture.”
The demand was quieter than the others. Abby hesitated, then removed one image and placed it on the table between them.
Hudson picked it up with both hands. His face changed as he studied the small shape, and for several seconds the control, calculation, and resentment receded.
“That’s the baby?” he asked as his thumb moved along the white border. “It looks like a tadpole.”
“The doctor said the head is still large compared with the body.” Abby watched his face rather than the image. “The arms and legs are developing.”
Hudson swallowed. “Is there another copy?”
“You can keep that one.” Abby watched him adjust his grip. “The office printed several copies.”
He held the picture more carefully after she said it. The tenderness she had hoped to see arrived at last, but it did not erase anything that came before it.
“We made this,” he said as he lifted his eyes. “How can you look at this and believe we’re supposed to be apart?”
The moment closed. Abby felt the familiar exhaustion of watching every vulnerable thing become another tool in Hudson’s hands.
“The baby was conceived while you were sleeping with Makayla,” she said. “A pregnancy does not change what you did.”
“Makayla is over.” Hudson said it with the confidence of someone closing an account. “She understands where my priorities are.”
Abby studied him. “Does she know that?”
“She knows the situation has changed.” Hudson kept his attention on the ultrasound photograph. “There was no need for a dramatic conversation.”
“You went with her to Evan’s house.” Abby remembered Evan’s message from the office. “That happened after I ended the engagement.”
“She needed help collecting her belongings.” Hudson placed the ultrasound photograph beside his coffee. “I couldn’t leave her alone after Evan threw her out without warning and he proved to be irrationally violent.”
“He ended the engagement after finding out about the affair.” Abby studied Hudson’s expression. “Makayla knew why she had to leave.”
“That doesn’t make his treatment of her acceptable.” Hudson’s loyalty shifted toward whichever argument protected him in the moment. “Makayla has no family here. She needed somewhere to stay.”
“Where is she staying?” Abby asked before she could decide whether the answer would help. “She said she had nowhere to go.”
“A hotel.” Hudson looked toward the lobby. “She can afford it for now.”