12. Sutton
SUTTON
“Relax,” Foster tells me as he sits in the corner of the exam room.
His blazer is hanging on the coat rack next to mine, and he is still in his buttoned shirt and vest since he came from the office.
I do love it when he’s in a solid three-piece.
The man has his legs and arms crossed as though this is a casual day in a dressing room at the mall.
Except, I’m freezing, my gown crinkling sharply with every anxious shift. My whole body is tight with anticipation. We’re about to see the living proof of what we’ve done, and nerves tangle in my chest.
Giving him a glare, I feel the need to remind him. “You’re not the one up here, so cool it.”
“Sutton.” His voice is soothing yet firm as he rolls up his sleeves to reveal his forearms, then adjusts in his seat by resting his elbows on his knees. “Look at me.” My eyes slowly zip to meet his, and a comforting, tiny smile ghosts his lips. “It will be okay.”
I nod, trying to show him I’m listening, that I trust him. But doubt lingers. “But what if I’ve been wrong about all of this?”
He is quick to interrupt. “It will be okay,” he repeats.
A soft knock sounds, but before I can answer, the female doctor opens the door and enters with a smile.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Ryder.” The woman in her mid-forties has a warm, patient smile. Her hair is pulled up into a low ponytail. She shakes Foster’s hand as he stands, then turns to me with an even more welcoming presence.
“Hi.” I accept her hand for formalities.
She steps back and begins to scroll on her tablet. “Okay, I think it’s straightforward. We can check on the baby. So why don’t you lie on your back?”
Caught off guard, I glance at Foster and say, “Oh, we’re going right into this.”
“Well, no need to wait. Home pregnancy tests are 99.9% accurate these days, and blood tests can be done if we feel the need. And you’ve taken one, which is why you’re here, I believe.”
"Three. Three tests," I point out, exchanging a quick look with Foster.
She grins. “That’s a good number. I had someone today who took eight, so I’m afraid you don’t win the award for most tests.”
My eyes float to Foster, who is intently observing us, clearly wanting to give the doctor space, yet watching like a hawk.
I adjust my legs and feet, feeling completely exposed.
“Thanks for filling out your medical history.”
“It was an entire book of questions,” I deadpan.
She grimaces. “I know it’s a lot, but it helps us. Nothing in your history raises any extra concerns, so this is straightforward. I read in the notes that you’re not 100% sure how far along you might be?”
“Yeah…” I hesitate, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I was kind of avoiding the inevitable so chose to ignore my body for a while,” I admit, voice small.
Maybe it’s my vulnerable tone that causes her to read my facial expression. “Because of fear?”
“Well, this is unexpected. We didn’t plan this.” I quickly glance at Foster, whose face is unreadable.
“Ah.” She holds her tablet close to her chest. “Would you like to chat a bit more about what it means to you?”
I stall, I actually stall. My throat tightens—it should be so easy to say no.
I don’t dare look at Foster; instead, my eyes lock on the scratch on the floor below my hanging feet.
My hands clench the exam table, heart pounding, as I run through all the thoughts in my head, but I still come to the same conclusion.
Finally, after a moment of silent deliberation, I say, “It’s okay. I really want to move on and figure out how far along I am and all of that stuff.”
“Got it. Well, let’s do a transvaginal ultrasound. If your…” She briefly looks back at Foster, then me, to clarify.
Blinking a few times, I consider my options but settle on one that feels more suited for the occasion, and finally, I can smirk due to the occasion. “Fiancé.” Technically, he is, and as much as I know she wouldn’t judge, to me, it screams less that we accidentally got pregnant.
“If your fiancé wants to join you by standing at your side, then we can have a look together at the screen.”
Even here, in this sterile exam room, Foster stands up, and somehow, every step he takes still carries that unmistakable swagger.
“This will be a little cold,” she notes.
As I take a deep breath, he scoops up my hand, entwining our fingers and bringing them up to his lips for a tiny chaste kiss. It’s sweet and distracts me from the doctor using instruments that are not the most fun.
“Now bear with me, sometimes we need to move in different positions.”
I feel the uncomfortable twinges twist in my stomach and press my lips together as I stare at the screen that only says she is searching. My heart pounds, heavy and tight with fear. Should it take this long?
But then it all vanishes.
“There we are.” She points to the blinking circle on the screen. Her finger then jabs a few keys on the computer next to the machine, and the sound turns on.
The wave of a fast heartbeat fills the room.
Foster tightens his grip on my hand, and I look up at him. “It’s really there,” I whisper in disbelief.
“Yep… and only one,” he teases me.
A laugh bubbles out of me, and my gaze drifts back to the screen, where the doctor is already measuring and tapping away at the keys.
“Looking good, I’m checking lengths. I’m inclined to say that you are around the eleven-week mark, actually.”
My eyes fly wide. "Really? I’m only now seeing a doctor?" Guilt grips me hard, my breath catching as I worry I’ve failed the baby somehow.
“That’s okay. You’d be surprised at how many women don’t even know until later. You haven’t had any signs of alarm. Everything seems healthy.”
I lie back down and purse my lips, satisfied with her answer.
Her typing is harsh on the keys, and when she presses enter, she turns all of her attention to us. “Estimated due date around October 20th based on what I see.”
I swing my gaze to Foster, expecting his smile as we enter parenthood during the start of the holiday season. Instead, I notice how he absorbs the news, his eyes reserved and his expression passive. I don’t think much of it as the doctor grabs my attention.
“You should start on pre-natal vitamins.” I nod in reply.
“You’re almost out of the first trimester already, so hopefully any ailments that you’re having will start to resolve.
Can’t guarantee it, but it’s more promising.
Let’s order some more blood work before your next visit, and I’ll see you again in a few weeks. Depending on your insurance—"
Foster clears his throat. “Not a factor. She should have the best care. Money is no issue.”
“Pretty sure I have the same company health insurance policy as you,” I remind him because I’m amused.
Foster’s wealth is obvious, but he never flaunts it. He’s always been humble. Yet here, he lets it show without hesitation—for me and the baby. It’s endearing, a sign of his concern and protectiveness. That kind of commitment makes me feel truly safe.
The doctor gives a knowing smile. “Noted.”
After a blur of paperwork and scheduling, I end up in the front seat of Foster’s car, the leather warm beneath me. I stare ahead, the car parked and unmoving, trying to process everything. It’s overwhelming.
Foster is observing me. I feel his possessive eyes watching me, but he waits patiently for me to say something.
The man has a lot of fortitude, I’ve learned. Sometimes, he appears to have already prepared himself to brace for any situation.
“This is really happening.” I breathe out to calm myself.
“Was the appointment a little too confronting? I was hoping the engagement ring from my coat pocket was the confronting event,” he quips in an attempt to ease me.
And it does make me hint a smile, and I angle on the seat to look at him. “The heartbeat, you know? He or she is really living inside of me and growing.”
His hand extends out to touch my arm. “A strong heartbeat.”
“Yeah,” I agree faintly. “We have a lot to learn, because I’m clueless about this parent thing.”
He chuckles, and it breaks the intensity of the air that I brought. “We’ll be the couple in the baby courses that look like complete idiots.”
“Are we doing that? Now, I don’t care about your money, and I hope you know that.”
“I don’t worry at all.”
I pinch my fingers together to show size.
“One teensy-weensy request where I might say can we use it, because can we just find someone who comes to us? Like private sessions or something? Because I’m not one to bond with some couple next to us who probably has a birth plan the size of one of my college law books. ”
“Truthfully, I was going to suggest that plan. I’m private, I don’t need strangers watching me learn how to rub your back when you have a baby.”
I giggle, genuinely appreciating his logic. “I’m sure you’ll be a pro at that. Honestly, your massage skills are half the reason I’m pregnant.”
Foster bites his cheek, a smile flaring with pride. “Guilty as charged.”
My head drops onto the headrest. “I’m an idiot for avoiding this. Now I’m already eleven weeks. How crazy is that?”
“The type of crazy I like. But now we make sure that you stay healthy, and we prepare for this boy.”
I squint my eyes and point a finger at him. “It could be a girl, mister.”
“Hmm… nah, I have a feeling.”
Shaking my head, my smile doesn’t fade. “Anyhow, I guess we’re entering safe territory to share the news… but I’m not sure I’m ready. Damn us for having friends who we work with.”
He grins and runs his finger along my arm. “I assure you, they will keep it to themselves.”
Shrugging, I’m sure he’s right. “I know. And maybe I should talk to Elodie, she has experience with this.”
“You should,” he encourages. The way his eyes narrow in on me, it’s apparent he is thinking about something. “Listen…” There it is. “I can see that you have been struggling with this surprise.”
“Understatement,” I say flippantly.
“But you’ll come around, and this will be the best news of your life.”
Gosh, he really is excited. No qualms. Ready to jump in headfirst.
Licking my lips, I glance down at the middle console, reminding myself that even if I’m not the world’s biggest fan of kids, this baby is mine, and that is one child I can be excited about. A bond that makes me want to be a fan of her or him… they’re ours.
“Maybe once we start buying things, or when I feel the baby kick. I am excited—it’s just a kind of excitement I’ve never felt before, and that’s both new and scary.”
“It’s okay. You can take your time, Sutton.”
I pick up my phone from my lap and swipe to the ultrasound video. As it plays, I instantly soften, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Pretty amazing, huh? We did that. I’m not sure what position we were in when it happened. We’re free to do whatever now without worry.”
His fingertips touch my cheek to guide my gaze to him. “We don’t need to worry. Everything. We have it. The baby will have whatever he needs for the rest of his life. So will you. I’m going to be your husband, remember?” He smirks.
He is right about it all.
That’s why I lean in and kiss him.
It’s not because I’m thankful for his assurance. It’s because he is a man that I’m attached to emotionally. I can’t hide from him. Foster sees through me.
A diamond in the rough. I’m the lucky one who stumbled upon real treasure.
Every day, I believe it more and more.
But that can also blind you from the truth.