TWENTY
BLAIR
Baby is the size of a feed scoop
This doctor is taking forever, and I have to pee so bad I think I’ll probably flood the toilet when I finally get to go. Beside me, Colt’s knee is bouncing a mile a minute and I’m trying very, very hard not to get annoyed by it.
It had also taken forever to get an appointment because transferring the paperwork from my doctor in California to Dr. Abernathy had practically been rocket science. On his end. He said he’d only dealt with it a handful of times in his whole career, so he was out of practice.
“Colton, if you do not stop bouncing your knee, I will find a way to break it in half.”
To his benefit, he does stop immediately .
“Sorry,” he says, muffled, and even with my eyes closed, I know he’s biting the skin around his fingers.
I’m surprised they’re not bleeding. The sound of the spit in his mouth as he pulls his finger away and wipes it on his pants grates at my nerves too.
And the overall audacity. He got onto me when I bit the skin around my nails.
“I’m just so fucking nervous. You’re not nervous? ”
“No.”
“How are you not nervous?”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
Colt scoffs like he’s going to argue, but I open my eyes long enough to glare at him and it shuts him up. I’ll be a better person when I pee, I promise.
“They’re just going to confirm things we already know. She’s healthy. She’s a girl. You could’ve stayed at the ranch and saved yourself the anxiety.”
“Fuck that,” he says with another scoff, readjusting in the chair so that his legs are splayed out in front of him. It’s a bit rude, but there’s no one else in the waiting room, so I guess it doesn’t really matter. “I wanna be at every appointment. Everything. Plus, I have questions.”
I’d probably find that cute if my bladder wasn’t about to burst. I’m just about to be that annoying bitch that complains to the receptionist about how long things are taking when the door opens and the nurse finally calls us back.
“Whittaker?” As though we’re not the only ones in the room.
I’m so desperate to get back to the room that I don’t even correct the name.
She must’ve ignored my name on the paperwork and assumed I was Colt’s wife, which was annoying, but not as annoying as the ache in my bladder.
There was something about needing to pee that made everything else in the world a lot more irrelevant.
“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Whittaker?”
“Just Blair, please,” I say, trying to be kind as I take a seat on the table she directs me to. “I feel fine. I really have to pee.”
She looks at me sympathetically, but not sympathetically enough to let me pee, apparently. “Go ahead and lie back, and we’ll get started.”
Used to this from the appointments back in Cali, I roll the waistband of my yoga pants down a bit and ruck my shirt up until my bump is out.
Colt’s breath hitches and it only occurs to me then that he hasn’t seen my stomach since the night in the hotel.
I give him a small smile and reach for his hand.
He scoots the chair closer to the bed to hold mine.
I watch Colt more than I watch the screen.
He looks… transfixed. I’ve never seen anyone look at something with as much love in their eyes as Colt is looking at the screen when the sonographer turns it around for us to see, confirming the baby’s sex and measuring her.
He lights up when the sound of our baby’s heartbeat fills the room, but I have to look away when he starts to cry.
I should’ve told him. I should’ve told him as soon as I found out. I shouldn’t have let him miss so much. But I wouldn’t let him miss anything else.
“Everything looks good to me. Blair, I’ve got enough pictures if you’d like to go to the bathroom now,” the sonographer says forty-five minutes later.
“Oh, thank god.” I make a fool of myself trying to sit up, but thankfully, I’ve got a helping hand on either side. I draw the line at Colt walking me to the bathroom though.
“I’ll be right back,” I promise and gesture toward the sonographer, who’s trying to get his attention so she can pass him the ultrasound printouts.
She’s gone when I come out of the bathroom.
“How are you feeling, cowboy?” I ask Colt, rubbing his shoulder as he looks down at the pictures. He wraps his arm behind my back, tugging me down onto his thigh.
It’s intimate, probably way too intimate for a doctor’s office and definitely way too intimate for two people who aren’t even dating, but it feels right for the moment. I reach over to wipe a tear from his cheek with a small smile.
“She’s so fucking perfect, Blair,” he says, voice cracking.
“She is,” I agree. “She looks much more baby-like this time.”
He lets out a watery laugh. “Yeah.”
It’s quiet for a minute or two while he flips through all of the pictures. I could probably get up, but I don’t want to, instead making myself more comfortable with my legs between his, leaning against his chest with a yawn. Making a kid is exhausting.
“She said the doctor would be in soon and then we’d be able to go.”
I don’t mean to nod off, but I guess I must because when the door opens and the doctor comes in with a booming, “Hello, Blair!” I jolt in Colt’s tattooed arms.
“Easy, mama,” he says, steadying me as I stand.
The doctor waves his hand toward us while he goes to the sink to wash them.
“Sit, sit. I’ll make this quick so you can go home and rest. It’s lovely to meet you, Blair. My name is Dr. Abernathy and I’ve been an obstetrician in Cedar Creek for forty-three years, delivering just about every baby in this city, including your handsome man there.”
He delivers the speech to his hands as he washes them and I awkwardly lower myself into the chair beside Colt, forgoing the exam table this time. The doctor takes a seat on a rolling stool and pushes himself across the room.
“I’ve looked over your scans from today and your records from your previous OB-GYN, and everything seems to be in order. How are you feeling?”
“Good. Tired.”
Dr. Abernathy hums, nodding as he writes something in a notebook, which is odd. Why not just type it directly into the computer instead of having to do it later?
“Your body’s putting in a lot of work right now, so make sure you’re getting your rest. There was nothing of concern on your mental health questionnaire, but if anything changes, please reach out sooner rather than later. This is a big undertaking, but you’re not alone.”
Colt’s arm wraps around my shoulders, squeezing me in agreement with the doctor, and I nod.
“Good,” Dr. Abernathy says, looking between the two of us. “Any questions?”
“Loads,” Colt replies, pulling away to get his phone out of his pocket. He pulls up his notes app and I balk at the amount of questions on it.
“Surely I can answer some of those for you back at home?” I whisper under my breath, but he ignores me.
“First: my dick is pierced.”
“Colton!”
Dr. Abernathy blinks for a moment before putting out his hands in a what about it sort of way. “Okay.”
“Well… should I take the piercings out before having sex with Blair? Will the metal hurt the baby somehow? Bacteria or… I don’t know… a metal allergy or something?” he asks, looking more confused by the minute while I just sit here mortified. We’re not even having sex.
“Is it fully healed?” Dr. Abernathy asks as though he’s simply discussing the weather.
“Yes, sir. I’ve had it for about four years now.”
He nods. “Then it should be fine. She’ll be more sensitive, so you’d just want to check in with one another more often and if there’s any discomfort, stop.”
“Of course.”
“Oh my god,” I whine as Colt moves on to his next question.