Chapter 25
Lainey
I’m sitting in the waiting room, my knee bouncing uncontrollably as I stare at the glossy parenting magazines stacked haphazardly on the table in front of me.
The sterile smell of antiseptic fills the air, mingling with the low hum of muted conversations and the occasional crackle of the receptionist’s intercom.
My appointment. My first OB-GYN appointment.
I glance at the door for the hundredth time, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and dread. Zach said he’d come, but it’s hard to imagine him walking into a place like this, let alone sitting here, waiting to hear about a baby.
Our baby.
What if he doesn’t?
I take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising panic. He doesn’t have to come. I can handle this on my own.
“Hey.”
The deep, familiar voice snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. I look up, and there he is—Zach, standing in the doorway, baseball cap pulled low, sunglasses in hand. He’s slightly out of breath, his sharp green eyes scanning the room before landing on me.
Relief floods my chest, but I keep my expression neutral. “You made it.”
“Told you I would,” he says, moving toward me. His voice is quieter now, a bit softer, as though he senses the weight of where we are.
“Traffic?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He shrugs, grinning faintly. “Had to park two blocks away. Apparently, half the city had the same idea to go to the doctor today.”
I almost smile, but then the nurse calls my name, and my stomach flips again.
“Right this way,” she says, holding the door open.
Zach steps back, gesturing for me to go ahead, but he doesn’t hesitate to follow.
The exam room is small, with light green walls and posters detailing fetal development pinned up like they’re part of a gallery.
I sit awkwardly on the edge of the table, my legs swinging slightly as I fidget with the hem of my shirt.
Zach takes the chair in the corner, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“First appointment?” the nurse asks, her voice friendly but efficient as she inputs information into the computer.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Alright. We’ll start with the basics—blood pressure, weight check, and a few questions. Then the doctor will be in for your ultrasound. Sound good?”
“Sure,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Zach glances at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that mirrors my own.
When the doctor arrives, she introduces herself with a warm smile. “I’m Dr. Hart. It’s great to meet you, Lainey. And you must be…”
“Zach,” he says, standing briefly to shake her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Zach. Are you ready to see your baby for the first time?”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. Your baby. It’s such a simple statement, but it feels monumental, like it’s reshaping my entire reality in real-time.
“I think so,” I manage, glancing at Zach. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, but he nods.
The doctor gestures for me to lie back. “Since you’re just shy of ten weeks, we’ll be doing a transvaginal ultrasound. It’ll give us the clearest picture at this stage.”
I nod, my cheeks flushing as I glance nervously at Zach. He catches my hesitation and looks down at the floor, giving me privacy as I adjust.
Once I’m ready, the doctor begins the scan, and the room fills with the quiet hum of the machine.
And then—there it is.
The screen flickers to life, revealing a small, fluttering image that takes my breath away.
“That’s your baby,” Dr. Hart says gently, moving the probe slightly to focus the picture. “And there’s the heartbeat.”
A steady, rhythmic thumping fills the room, impossibly fast and strong for something so tiny.
My throat tightens, and before I can stop myself, tears are streaming down my face. I press a hand to my mouth, overwhelmed by the sound, by the sight, by the weight of everything.
Zach is completely still beside me. I glance at him, expecting his usual cool detachment, but he’s staring at the screen with an intensity I’ve never seen before. His jaw is tight, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his hands are clasped so tightly his knuckles are white.
“Everything looks great,” Dr. Hart says, moving the probe slightly to capture measurements. “Strong heartbeat, good growth. You’re measuring right on track for your due date.”
I nod, barely hearing her. My focus is on Zach, on the way his breathing has shifted, shallow and uneven, like he’s trying to keep something contained.
When the doctor finishes, she hands me a small printout of the ultrasound image. I cradle it carefully, my tears still falling as I sit up.
“Congratulations, both of you,” Dr. Hart says, smiling warmly before stepping out of the room.
For a moment, the silence is deafening.
Then Zach exhales sharply, rubbing his hands over his face.
“That was…” He trails off, searching for words.
“Amazing,” I finish, my voice breaking slightly.
He nods, his hands dropping to his lap. “Yeah. It was.”
We step out of the office into the afternoon sunlight, and Zach immediately slips his sunglasses back on, shielding his eyes. I clutch the ultrasound printout tightly, softening its edges with my grip.
The weight of everything feels heavier now, not lighter. I glance at Zach, searching for something—anything—in his posture or expression that might tell me how he’s feeling.
But I can’t read him.
“Zach,” I say, my voice soft but firm as I stop walking.
He turns, his gaze unreadable behind his sunglasses. “Yeah?”
I hesitate, but I know I have to say it. “You don’t have to do this.”
He frowns. “Do what?”
“This,” I say, gesturing between us. “You don’t have to come to appointments or stick around for my sake. If this isn’t what you want… if it’s too much, I’m giving you an out.”
His body goes still, his jaw tightening. For a moment, the silence stretches too long, the tension between us a tangible thing.
“An out,” he repeats, his voice low, almost disbelieving.
The words hang heavy in the air, the weight of them pressing down on both of us.