Chapter 25 Harper
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
HARPER
It smells like antiseptic and citrus cleaner in here, the kind that’s meant to be calming but just makes everything feel, well, anxiety inducing.
Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m in an exam room perched on the edge of the paper-covered table, feet dangling, staring at a poster about fetal development that I absolutely did not expect to be staring at today.
I’m here because I need someone to tell me what’s going on.
I’ve been tired lately, but between Connor’s busy life, and Harrison’s busy life, plus my own job, who wouldn’t be tired?
I’ve thrown up a few times in the past couple months, which is a few times more than normal for me and even though I’ve tried to deny it to myself, my period has been… fuzzy.
Or maybe I’m here because Antoni made a joke that landed a little too close to the truth.
“You haven’t eaten, you threw up twice, and you’re crying over a dog food commercial. If you’re not pregnant, I’m not gay.”
So, there it is.
The real reason I’m here.
The nurse leaves with a polite smile and a clipboard, and I tell myself—over and over—that this is probably nothing. Stress. Hormones. Life being life. Hell, maybe it’s perimenopause. It hits some earlier than others, so who knows?
The doctor, that’s who.
When the door opens again and Dr. Wheeler steps in, I can see it on her face. She knows. She smiles warmly as she pulls up the rolling stool. “Hi, Harper. Thanks for waiting.”
My heart is already racing.
“So,” she says gently, glancing at the chart. “I’ve reviewed your chart and your labs.
“I—” My voice cracks immediately and I clear my throat. “Okay.”
“I can confirm you are indeed pregnant. And given your HCG levels, it looks like you’re several weeks along. I’d say anywhere from ten to twelve already.”
My breath leaves my body in one sharp exhale.
“Oh, my God” I whisper.
Ten to twelve weeks.
I do the math automatically, like my brain is desperate to ground itself in numbers instead of feelings.
Eleven-ish weeks ago was…
Harrison was on the road and then—
Oh…shit.
That night he came home.
That night I was waiting in his bed.
That night we started making up for lost time.
I press my hand to my stomach.
There’s nothing there yet that I can physically feel, I know, but suddenly it’s like my body is louder than it’s ever been.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, tears spilling before I can stop them. “Oh my God.”
The doctor hands me a tissue without comment, like she’s seen this exact moment a thousand times. “Everything looks healthy,” she assures me. “Given your age and history, we’ll keep a close eye on things, but right now? This is a good pregnancy, Harper.”
Given my age…
Healthy pregnancy…
I laugh weakly through my tears. “But I already have a kid.”
She smiles. “That you do. So, congratulations, it looks like you’ll be having another.”
Another.
I nod, still staring at her as if she’d tell me it’s twins if I blink too long.
Another life.
Another tiny person who will call me Mom.
Another child connected to Harrison.
The thought both terrifies me and fills my chest so completely I can barely breathe.
“I—I need a minute,” I say quietly.
“Of course,” she replies, standing. “Take your time. I’ll be back with the next steps.”
The door clicks shut and I’m alone again.
I press both hands to my stomach now, palms flat, like I’m afraid I won’t believe it unless I can feel it for myself.
“Holy fucking shit,” I whisper. “Pregnant.”
A baby.
Another baby.
Harrison’s child.
Again.
The room spins slightly, and I grip the edge of the exam table to steady myself. This is why I’ve been so tired. Why I’ve been getting sick. Why I cry watching that stupid commercial about rescue dogs finding forever homes every time it plays.
This is really happening.
My heart pounds so loudly I swear the doctor will hear it when she returns. I’m going to have another baby…at my age…with a preteen son who just found out his father exists. With a career that’s finally thriving. With Harrison, who’s only just stepped into fatherhood for the first time.
Harrison.
Oh God, how am I going to tell Harrison?
We only just told Connor about Harrison being his dad two weeks ago.
This is all happening so soon.
It’s too fast.
I close my eyes, trying to calm the nerves spouting off like fireworks inside my stomach.
This wasn’t planned. This wasn’t even on my radar of possibilities.
Looking back, I realize it should’ve been.
We weren’t exactly careful, especially not that night.
Since Harrison learned I was in Anaheim, emotions have been running high and protection was an afterthought.
What am I going to do?
What are we going to do?
I have to tell him.
I can’t keep this from him.
Not this time.
A knock at the door startles me. Dr. Wheeler returns with a folder and a gentle smile.
“How are we doing?” she asks, sitting back down on her rolling stool.
“I’m okay,” I say, trying to steady my voice. “Just… processing.”
She nods, understanding written across her face. “That’s completely normal. For now, I want you to start on prenatal vitamins right away.” She hands me the folder. “Here’s information about what to expect, dietary recommendations, and appointments we’ll need to schedule.”
I take the folder with trembling hands, staring at the words Your Pregnancy Journey printed across the front.
“I’d like to do an ultrasound today if you have time,” she continues. “Given how far along you are, we should be able to see quite a bit.”
“Today?” My voice sounds distant, like it belongs to someone else. “I… yes. Okay.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m staring at a screen, at a tiny blob with a flickering heartbeat that’s somehow already shaped like a person. A tiny, perfect person growing inside me.
“There’s your baby,” Dr. Wheeler says softly. “Baby has a strong heartbeat and I was correct. We’re measuring at about eleven weeks and everything looks good so far.”
Tears stream down my face as I watch the screen, reminding myself that this is real. This is really happening.
Holy shit.
I’m going to have another baby.
Connor is sprawled on the rug in the living room, building something elaborate out of Legos that looks suspiciously like an arena with questionable structural integrity.
The TV is on low as he watches one of his favorite shows while Harrison and I finish the dishes.
He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching our son for a moment like he’s trying to memorize every detail of him and all I can think about is how I’m going to tell him that I’m pregnant.
That I’m having another one of his babies.
I’m halfway through loading the dishwasher when he says quietly, “I’ve been thinking about retirement.”
I go still.
Like, fully freeze with a plate in my hands and turn slowly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I glance into the living room quickly to make sure Connor didn’t hear before whipping back to Harrison. “Retire? From hockey?”
What the fuck?
Where did this come from?
I’m pregnant!
You can’t retire!
What if something happens and I can’t keep working?
Shit.
But what if something happens and he gets injured?
Fuck!
What do we do?
How am I supposed to tell him now?
He nods once, like he’s already decided and just now letting the words catch up. “Not tomorrow. Maybe not this season. But…you know…” He shrugs like I know what he’s trying to say.
I tilt my head, watching him for any clear hint of meaning. “Next season?”
He doesn’t answer, which tells me all I need to know. The plate in my hand slips just a little before I set it down and step closer to Harrison. “You’re only thirty-two, H.”
“I know.”
I’m pregnant!
“You’re a top defenseman.”
“I know.”
Did you hear me? I’m going to have your baby!
“You’re healthy. You’re—” I stop myself, studying his face.
He doesn’t look reckless or dramatic. He looks…
grounded. Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks confident.
Like he’s put a great deal of thought into this idea and suddenly the thought fills me with anxiety.
“I’m sorry, this…this is just coming out of nowhere. ”
“It’s not,” he says quietly. “It’s just new to you.”
That lands.
Oh my God, he’s been thinking about this for a while?
I lean back against the counter across from him. “Okay. Uh, talk to me. Why are you…what’s bringing this on?”
His eyes flick to Connor.
“I missed ten years, Harp,” he says. There’s no anger in his words. No bitterness. Just fact. “Ten birthdays. What, like five or six first days of school. The first time he learned to skate. The first time he fell and got back up again.” His jaw tightens. “I can’t get any of that back.”
No but you can experience a first time with the next kid…
My chest aches.
“And I know I can’t just quit hockey and magically fix that,” he continues.
“But I also know if I stay in the league until I’m forty like I always planned, I’ll miss another chunk of his life too.
The travel, the games, the road trips.” He shrugs.
“Rehab, late nights, early mornings.” He exhales.
“I don’t want to look up one day and realize I was present in name only. ”
Connor looks up then. “Harrison, can you help me find the red piece?”
Harrison steps into the living room, dropping immediately to his knees. “Of course, bud.”
I watch him help Connor for a moment, the way his big hands move carefully, like Connor is something precious instead of something fragile. My hands instinctively fall to my stomach.
Retirement?
I can’t believe he’s really thinking about this.
He comes back to me and I swallow when he asks me what I’m thinking.
“As someone who loves you,” I say slowly, “that’s…incredibly beautiful.”
His mouth twitches. “But?”
But I’m pregnant!
I’m having a baby!
And this is a lot to take in!