Chapter 25
STEVIE
“Excuse me? Two heartbeats?”
The doctor smiles at me as he says, “Yes. You’re pregnant with twins.”
I’m staring at him, blinking mindlessly at what he’s saying and turning to see King’s reaction. He’s frozen in place, face as white as the thin sheet I’m wearing, mouth hanging open while staring at the screen. My head shifts back to the doctor, grasping the impact of his words.
“Twins. But…I still don’t know how this happened. I took the morning-after pill when we had unprotected sex, and I haven’t had sex since.”
The doctor removes the instrument and says, “The earlier you take it the better, but it still isn’t one hundred percent effective.”
I guffaw. “Obviously.”
He sits on the stool and says, “Since you’re high risk, I’ll be monitoring you closely, which means appointments closer together.
More ultrasounds and fetal evaluations. I’ll also provide a home blood pressure monitor.
As an older mother, pregnancy causes several issues, high blood pressure being one of them. ”
My head turns to King, who is still pale but listening. For grown adults, we have been careless on so many levels. Unprotected sex. Drugs. Oh my God, drugs. What have I done to the babies?
I sit up, franticly asking, “We were eating edibles the night we had unprotected sex. Is that going to affect the babies?”
“Do you normally do drugs?”
“No! It was a onetime thing.”
“Good. It shouldn’t, but we’ll watch out for any abnormalities.”
“So the baby should be okay?”
“Babies. Yes. A onetime edible feast most likely won’t have any effects on the babies. I’ll give you a list of things to avoid, which of course will include drugs.”
“Can I still run? I haven’t done so in a while, yet I’ve been a runner most of my life.”
He hands me the picture of the sonogram. It’s so hard to see these two little ones, but my eyes water anyway. Overwhelmed is an understatement. King’s face is next to mine, fixated on the sonogram. My finger slides over the two little black and gray dots.
The doctor’s voice brings me back. “I wouldn’t advise it right now. There are other low-impact activities such as walking or prenatal yoga. The main thing is to listen to your body. If you’re tired, sleep. Rest is always good.”
After all this time, King finally asks, “What about sex?”
Sex?
My mouth drops open in surprise. That’s all he can think to ask? I mean, it is something to know, but…my God, the man wears blinders.
The doctor glances at King as if he had forgotten he was in the room. “Well, I don’t want to restrict it and put her on pelvic rest, so it’s okay for now. Only gentle sexual activity.” His eyes shift to me. “If you experience bleeding or anything else, go to the emergency room immediately.”
I’m sent home with a blood pressure monitor, prenatal vitamins, and a list of things to avoid. We’re zombies walking to the car, driving home, and entering the house. Neither of us has said a word about having twins. Even before this appointment, King and I haven’t talked about the pregnancy.
In the kitchen, I place the list and vitamins on the counter, and remove a water bottle from the fridge.
King is nowhere to be found. Maybe he went to the shop.
Looking at the backyard, I bring my water with and venture out onto the deck, stepping down the few stairs and perching underneath a large oak toward the back of the property.
It’s warm out, but there’s a slight breeze.
I place my hand on my almost flat stomach, smiling down, while tears accumulate in my eyes.
This is one of those moments when my mother should be here.
We should be talking about baby names. Planning a baby shower.
Instead, I’m alone under a tree wondering how the hell all this happened.
My head lifts and presses into the tree as I close my eyes.
The father of my children is a rough, vulgar biker who does what he wants.
We agreed to work on our relationship for the child’s sake, except there’s two children.
All I can hope is that King and I can sort everything out and possibly have a normal type of relationship.
If not, our children will suffer. And right now, there’s no other plan in sight.
A warmth against my shoulder forces my eyes open to find King next to me, eyes closed. My gaze wanders over his tanned, scruffy face. Firm jaw. Straight nose. Angled eyebrows. Red heart-shaped lips, which soften the rest of his features.
My head returns to rest on the tree, and I close my eyes and say, “Twins. How do you feel about it?”
There’s the normal silence until he responds, “At first, shocked, but I think it’s okay.”
I turn to him, and he’s staring at me. “I’m glad you think it’s okay.”
He blows out air through his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that, Stevie. I meant…”
King looks away, focused on nothing in particular. His communication skills suck. This whole situation frightens me, so it doesn’t help to have an unresponsive and unsupportive partner.
My hand is on my stomach, and all the horrible things that can go wrong flood my mind. Diabetes. Preeclampsia. Preterm Labor. Babies dying. The tears quietly resume, so I look down at my stomach, and then King places his hand on top of mine. This gesture stops my tears.
Our eyes meet, and Kingston says, “We got this, Rebel.”
This burns my eyes, and I’m sobbing, but in a good way because this simple sentence from King means a lot. He doesn’t draw me into his arms to comfort me. It’s not King’s way. But his thumb resting atop my hand, caressing it, is enough.
The tears abate. When I rise to go inside, he follows, scooping me up in his arms, and I rest my head on his shoulder. I’m exhausted from everything and nothing. King sits me on a stool by the island, grabs the instruction list the doctor gave me, and leans his folded arms on the counter.
He studies the list and then me. “Like the doc said, you gotta take it easy. No stress.”
My eyebrow ticks upward. “And how do you suggest I not stress? There’s so many things to do and worry about. Money for one thing. How am I going to pay the medical expenses?”
“Rebel. I’ll take care of things.”
I give a small smile as I nod. The room goes quiet as he’s reading the list while my eyes divert to the window where a light breeze comes through.
King cups my cheek, the pad of his thumb skirting over my lips. “Stevie.” My eyes shift to him. “It’ll be fine.”
“I’m scared.”
His thumb stops, eyes bolted to mine, and he leans forward for a tender kiss. King’s face is an inch from mine.
“Doc is going to monitor you, and I ain’t going to let you do anything you’re not supposed to.”
“Can we wait to tell people?”
King steals another kiss and pulls back. “Why?”
“I’d rather wait until I’m farther along in case something—”
“Don’t say it, Rebel. You’re creating issues that ain’t there. When they are, we’ll deal, but until then, stop this shit way of thinking.” I bite my lower lip, and he adds, “But yeah, we can wait if that’s what you want.”
Yesterday, King had me promise not to do anything strenuous. All the high-risk things that could go wrong are enough for me to agree.
When I wake and head into the kitchen, I find my teacup and tea bag sitting by the kettle.
For a burly bastard, King sometimes dissolves any doubt I’ve been wrestling with.
When I look out the front window, I notice a biker at the end of the driveway.
I freak, running to the kitchen for my phone, only to find a sheet of paper and a note I hadn’t seen before.
The note informs me there will be a biker at the front of the house for security reasons.
He also has a nearby neighbor aiming his camera out toward the prairie and forest behind the neighbor’s and King’s property for extra security.
I’m to activate the alarm when I’m inside the house.
Yeah, sure, I won’t freak out and stress about it.
Below this information, King wrote, “Fucking calm, Rebel. It’s only for precaution. I’ll be gone all day. The kitchen is stocked. Text me if you want or need anything.”
It’s uncanny he knows how I think. I call Lynette to apologize again for my outburst at the club, and for not calling sooner. She thanks me, telling me she’ll be by sometime this week for a girls’ chat.
I read all day on the back deck. King’s hardcore, yet his décor is stylish as well as comfy.
I snooze on and off all day, and when I wake from one of my naps, I’m greeted by a sherbert sky, casting an orange and pink glow over the earth.
The placement of the house is perfect. In the early morning, we are graced with sunrises from the front porch, and sunsets in the evening on the deck.
I prepare an easy dinner. When King comes home, we move awkwardly around each other, figuring out how this works. We’re somewhat strangers, so it’s difficult to navigate a relationship when you don’t know the other person’s ways, quirks, or likes.
We both gravitate toward the porch after dinner, and my finger smooths over the GPS on my wrist. I swear I feel the imbedded chip.
King’s focused on the backyard when I ask, “Can you remove the GPS?”
He scrubs a hand over his face and looks at me. “Why?”
“Because I want it out. I don’t want a foreign object in my body. Plus, I don’t know if it will harm the babies.”
“Now’s not a good time, and it’s not going—”
“Please, King.”
Guzzling down the rest of his beer, he says, “Fine.”
All types of soft lights kick on in the backyard and its perimeter, and every night before bed, he uses floodlights to check the security of the property.
I venture out toward the back of his yard where there is a grouping of plants and shrubs.
I smile, recognizing several of the plants: sage, mint, and chamomile.
I break off a small amount of each one, smelling them as I do so.
King comes up next to me. “What’s that?”
“Sage, mint, and chamomile. My mom and I lived in a small apartment, but it had a balcony, so she created her own little garden on it. We had tomato and cucumber plants, and lots of herbs, including sage and mint.”
“I didn’t know these were here.”
I sweep my arm across the bushes and point over the fence.
“You’d be amazed at how many herbs grow wild.
” My eyes wander over the yard, and I add, “I love greenhouses. It’s such a wonderful thing to grow vegetables and herbs all year round, along with teaching children about food.
” King is quiet. “Did you have fresh vegetables when you were younger? I ask because you’re a healthy eater. ”
He scoffs. “The only fresh things I got were black eyes, cuts, and bruises.”
My hand immediately touches his arm, and I softly ask, “It was that bad?” He nods. “Tell me about it.”