Chapter 26
THE PAST WAS ONE BIRD
MARCO
Brooklyn’s eyebrows pinched inward as her gaze rested on my shaking leg.
Up, down, up, down, up, down. I was driving myself crazy, so I could only imagine how she felt.
Changing positions, I folded my legs. Although, that wasn’t as comfortable as I thought it would be.
I sat with my legs apart, my elbows on my knees.
She didn’t say anything, only dragged her eyes away from me slowly and with judgment or crankiness. I wasn’t sure which, but I didn’t like either.
It had seemed like a bright idea for me to join her at this OB/GYN appointment. Although, I could no longer pinpoint the exact reason why.
The doctor was typing something up on her report on the computer, and we were waiting for the next thing that would come out of her mouth. The wait was murderous.
Brooklyn wanted me to be more than her arranged husband, and if I was being honest, I wanted that too. I didn’t want her to feel alone in this pregnancy, which was something I may have made her feel like she was up until this point. My stomach clenched with the thought.
Maria had been a single mother for a while, but not really because she had Dom.
While I thought Brooklyn could definitely do this on her own, she shouldn’t have to. It had always been my intention to be in the baby’s life, but probably not in the way that mattered.
This baby didn’t just need another person spoiling them or watching them. They needed someone who was going to teach them things and make sure they understood things before they got hurt. The world wasn’t a perfect place. This child needed a father as much as they needed a mother.
Brooklyn had never said it, but after last night, I knew she wanted me to be a paternal figure for her baby. That she wanted me to be the father.
I didn’t want to disappoint her. Or this baby.
I didn’t want to become my father, even though, at times, it seemed inevitable.
We both tried to fight this arrangement, even after we’d agreed to it, and for what?
Maybe we should have been grateful for it. I sure as hell was.
“I can tell you the sex of the baby, if you’d like,” the doctor finally said, tearing the treacherous silence to shreds. She ran her stare over each of us in turn.
Brooklyn turned to me, her hands in her lap as she played with her fingernail.
She chewed on the corner of her lip, and I wished I could have experienced all of the previous appointments with her as well.
Not that it mattered because dwelling on it wouldn’t turn back time, and at the time, we hadn’t been ready. I hadn’t been ready.
Wanting to be there for her now, I reached over and grabbed her hand in mine, raising it and gently pulling it to my lips while I bent my head the rest of the way.
I didn’t pay any attention to the doctor, kissing the top of her smooth hand.
“I know we talked about it, but it’s whatever you want,” I reminded her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear.
She swallowed, arching her back and directing her response at the doctor. “I want to know.” She nodded, as though her words weren’t enough.
I brought a hand to her shoulder and squeezed. “Then we’ll find out,” I assured her.
Nodding herself, the doctor pointed at the monitor on the wall. Hanging from it was a taped note that informed patients to make sure they told the doctor whether they wanted to know the fetal sex during the appointment. “All right, so—”
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I have a different idea.” Brooklyn let out a shaky laugh. “It might be a tad unconventional, but would you mind writing the sex down on a piece of paper and leaving it with Marco? I’d like it to come from him.”
I blinked, looking over at the doctor. “Me?” Part of me wondered if that was even a possibility and she would be willing to do that. However, the other part of me, and, frankly, the majority of me, wasn’t sure why she wanted that.
“Yes,” Brooklyn assured me.
I felt a tug in my chest. It was brutal and relentless. It felt like something was trying to rip my heart right out and present it to me on the outside of my body where I could see it beating rapidly instead of merely feel it.
“I’ve received many different requests over the years. This one is definitely doable, and I would be more than happy to do it for you,” the doctor explained, a genuine smile crossing her lips as she moved back to the computer, pulling a pen out of her coat.
Before she did it, I held up a finger. “Wait.” Clearing my throat, I went back to shifting in my seat. Jesus, I couldn’t wait to get up and get out of here. Just so that I stopped whatever this bullshit was I had going on. “Are you sure? Why me?”
She grinned. “Because I want this moment to be special.”
I furrowed my brows. “And that’ll do it?”
“Yes, Marco.” She gritted her teeth, her eyes flaring as warning filled them. “Please,” she begged, speaking only to the doctor now. “I’m not changing my mind.”
Without any further instructions, she took no more than two seconds to write it down, fold the paper, and stand. “I’m going to give you two some time.” Outstretching her arm, she offered me the paper. The paper that had the information on it. The sex of the baby.
I took it from her, hesitantly. We could find out at the same time.
Why wouldn’t Brooklyn have wanted that? I found it hard to believe she wanted me to know something so personal before her.
The doctor knowing, a cake designer knowing so they can bake some shit with the color inside as a surprise, was one thing, but me knowing, someone who had no real reason to know first, was an entirely different story.
“When you’re done, just peek your heads out and let a nurse know.”
When she was gone, I ran a hand through my hair.
“Kiki… Are you sure?” I stood up, putting myself out of my own misery.
I couldn’t stand that chair. Sitting in general.
In a doctor’s office. There was nothing relaxing about knowing you were here for a reason, to find out the sex of a baby that wasn’t even yours, but you wished was and would be for all intents and purposes.
So, why the desire for people to sit? I didn’t understand it, and I had a feeling I never would. Not that I particularly cared.
Waving the paper around, I went to walk and stretch my legs a bit in the confined room, but Brooklyn placed a hand on my forearm, right over my tattoos. She wrapped her fingers around me and growled. “If you ask me that again, I will scream.”
“How about we open the paper and read it together? At the same time? Sounds like that would make for a special moment to me.”
She pinched at my skin as her grip tightened. It didn’t hurt, but my gaze lowered there nonetheless.
I focused on the birds.
I felt like my past and where I came from—Santo—dictated how terrible of an idea this was. Knowing her baby? Sure. But raising it? With her?
The past was one bird. The present was another.
I needed to start seeing them as distinct.
I shrugged, smirking as I felt any anxiety lift from my body and float in the air around us, like innocent feathers of a bird. “Fine, so you want me to read it to you.” I supposed I could give her what she wanted.
Drawing her hand back, she clacked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Wow. What gave it away? It’s not like—”
The rest of her words faded away as my fingers latched onto the paper, unfolding it. Twice over again, just as many times as it had been folded.
Something unfurled inside me.
My muscles bunched, and I inhaled before reading the one word on the paper.
Tuning back in, I looked at Brooklyn, her voice coming in clearly, as she was apparently still talking. “And that’s why I think so—”
My gaze was on her, and I didn’t waver. “We’re having a girl,” I practically rushed to say, my excitement obvious.
Her lips twitched, a sparkle noticeably shining in her eyes. Then the sparkle slowly glistened. She was…crying. “You said we,” she choked.
Nodding, I walked over to her and rested my forehead on hers, the paper getting crumpled in my hand as I curled my hand around the back of her head, holding her to me. Right where I wanted her. “I said we.”
We were going to have a daughter.