Chapter 10
Chapter Te n
Wynter
S cott’s head is buried in his phone. “Scott, I thought you wanted to feel the baby.” He lifts his chin, shoving his phone into those gray sweatpants, slung low on his hips. “Hurry, she’s moving now.”
Drake steps back, and Scott fills the space. When I reach for his hand and place it on my belly, he closes his eyes and breathes out, his lungs emptying slowly. His hand is strong and steady as my baby girl kicks his palm with her feet and his fingers with her hands as she stretches. It’s as if her tiny limbs are exploring Scott’s hand. He starts talking to her, and it’s the first time I’ve heard joy in his voice, when it didn’t sound strangled from emotion.
“We all love you. Your mama is taking good care of you.” She seems to do a ballet jump when he speaks. “She needs you right now. Stay strong, baby girl.”
I can’t take my eyes off Scott. His square jaw, with a thick head of brown hair. When he glances at me, his soulful eyes are invisibly tethered to mine.
The baby must do a som ersault, and Scott places his other hand on my belly too as he presses, and we watch the ultrasound together. His smooth, soothing movements cradle my belly and lulls the baby to sleep.
Dr. Breadwell stays silent while Scott and I share a moment way too intimate.
“She likes you,” I say as I rub his hand over my belly one last time.
“Maybe you should be a baby whisperer. I bet people pay good money for someone who can calm their baby.”
His lips tilt into a close-lipped grin. “She’s heard my voice… a lot.”
For the first time, I realize he has a wedding ring on. My finger fiddles with his ring for a second, and we just stare at each other. Clearing my throat, I ask, “Is my rescuer married?”
“I am. She’s my soulmate.”
“Am I keeping you from her?”
“No, she wants me here. She loves you too.”
Dr. Breadwell says, “Wynter, the baby is fantastic, but I’ll check on you every day. Anything I can do for you?”
“Umm, guys, can I have a moment alone with the doctor?”
I let go of Scott’s hand and immediately feel a loss of a connection.
“Sure, we’ll be right outside,” Scott says as his eyes crinkle around the edges.
Drake follows him, and I wonder what my life is really like. Is Scott and his wife such a good friend that she wants him with me?
Dr. Breadwell cleans my belly and puts the wand back onto the ultrasound machine, then she sits patiently b y my side.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re busy. I just… just don’t understand my feelings.”
“About your fall? Your memory? The baby?”
I shake my head no. “Am I in a polyamorous relationship with these two? And Scott’s wife?”
A little laugh escapes her lips as she pushes her glasses back to the bridge of her nose. My doctor is quite pretty. “No, that I’m aware of.”
“Can you tell me if Drake is always so skittish?”
“I can’t.”
“Because you aren’t supposed to or because you don’t know.”
She taps her fingers against her legs. “Just give everyone a little time to adjust to your injury. It’s hard on all fifteen people in the waiting room. So many people love you. You’ve always attracted people like bees to honey.”
“Always? You know me.”
“I do. All I can say right now is that I went to school with all of you. Book nerd here,” she quips.
“So, I trusted you with the health of my baby.”
She nods.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure. I don’t know if I can answer but shoot.”
“Is there a reason I feel something very wrong for Scott? I mean since I’m married to Drake and I’m not in a polyamorous relationship.”
Dr. Breadwell rolls her stool even closer and takes my hand. “You have bruised ribs, broken leg, stitches, bruises, and a nasty concussion. I wouldn’t worry about how you feel about Scott. You’ve known him your whole life, and h e’s pretty hot.”
She causes me to chuckle, reminding me of every pain that radiates through my body.
“Yes, he is. But so is Drake,” I add, trying to convince myself of my bond with my husband.
“Get some rest; it’s been a long morning.” She stands and releases my hand. “I see you have a journal. Why don’t you write down how you feel about the visit? Maybe writing will trigger something new.”
“Thanks, Dr. Laura.”
She smiles. “That’s what you’ve called me since the first visit.”
“It is?”
“You’re going to heal and figure everything out. But you do need to sleep while the baby is sleeping. It prepares you for when she arrives.”
“Okay, thank you. My baby girl is beautiful.”
She leaves and closes the door behind her, and this is the first time I’m alone with my thoughts. I reach for the soft leather journal and run my hands over the texture’s pattern and finally take the pen from the loop and open it to the first page.
This journal belongs to:
I write my name on the line. Wynter Wilson
Then I turn to the first blank page and write my name over and over. How many times have I written Wynter Wilson? Since high school? Is that when I fell in love with Drake? Writing my name eases the chaos residing in my mind. I add scroll work and hearts to the page like I ’m a teenager, but it feels therapeutic, so the first three pages are covered. Scott brought me colored felt pins, and I grab them one by one and shade in the different areas.
On the fourth page, I write, “I’m having a baby girl. I’m already in love just seeing her in black and white and feeling her body move inside me.”
My lids are heavy, and gravity wants them to close, so I put the pen in the loop, place the colored pens on the table, and tuck the journal under my leg that isn’t broken. And all I can think about is Scott’s hands on my neck and on my belly.
How good it felt.
How connected we felt.