Chapter 26 Nisha
twenty-six
nisha
Never Again, Baby
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
Patton’s fingers tighten around mine as the sounds of her fast-paced heartbeats resound against the static, filling the silence inside the private ultrasound room.
The black-and-white image on the screen is almost indecipherable, but there’s no doubt about it—our baby is in there. A baby girl, if my intuition is correct.
It’s not typical to get an ultrasound at less than seven weeks, but with my history of fertility problems and miscarriages, my doctor wanted me to get a transvaginal ultrasound to ensure things were progressing as expected.
“Well, congratulations, Mom and Dad, everything looks perfect,” Dr. Gilbert says, adjusting the wand slightly to get a better view. “The embryo is measuring at about seven weeks, with a strong heartbeat. I’d say you both could start cautiously celebrating.”
I let out a breath, feeling a weight come off my shoulders.
After my last miscarriage, I’d given up my dreams of becoming a mother, just like I’d given up knitting tiny baby booties and sweaters.
I never imagined I’d be lying on another ultrasound table, listening to the beating of another heart, confirming life growing inside me.
But hearing Dr. Gilbert’s words floods me with so much relief, it’s almost disorienting.
For years, I’ve lived with the belief that pregnancy wasn’t in the cards for me, and I’d trained myself to stop wishing for something I couldn’t have, content to just be a good aunt to my nephew, instead.
But now, hearing that strong heartbeat and knowing she’s really in there, I’m remembering all over again how desperately I wanted this.
But celebrating and making big announcements? I’m not nearly ready enough for that. I’ll celebrate my heart out once this baby is actually in my arms, when this constant fear has finally transformed into the joy I’m too afraid to feel right now.
Patton brings our joined hands to his lips, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. His eyes stay fixed on the grainy image. We’ve been in this exact spot twice before, but this time feels fundamentally different. He’s completely present and invested, like nothing matters beyond this room.
The last time we were here, his phone vibrated nonstop in his pocket. And though he didn’t answer it, I remember his attention being split with each vibration, putting a damper on the moment.
Today, it hasn’t buzzed once.
In fact, I’ve noticed he puts it on some sort of hibernation mode whenever we’re spending time together, as if he’s creating a protected bubble just for us.
I remember writing those words on a list years ago—that I wished I meant more to him than any phone call, that he’d be present instead of just physically there.
I hadn’t intended for him to find that list, and not only did he find it, but he took my words to heart and is showing me with every action how committed he is to me and our baby.
“We’re doing this, Little Borealis,” Patton whispers against the back of my hand, his eyes slightly glassy. “We’re really doing this.”
“I think so.” I swallow the fear creeping into my words. “I hope so.”
Because I don’t know if I can handle another loss . . .
“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Dr. Gilbert says, setting the wand aside and dimming the lights.
“I know it’s a lot to process. Given your history, I can understand the trepidation as well, but I want to reassure you that things seem to be looking good.
The less you stress, the better it’ll be for both you and the baby. ”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“There are wipes on the counter right there for cleaning up.” She tips her chin toward a box of wipes. “Take your time. Just press the call button when you’re ready, and I’ll come back with your photos.”
She’s just about to exit when Patton stops her.
“Dr. Gilbert, just another question. Nisha and I are headed to Cabo in two weeks for her sister’s wedding. Are there any precautions we need to take?”
Dr. Gilbert glances over at me with a smile. “Congratulations to your sister on her wedding.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“I bet. And you’ll be nine weeks along by that time, so travel is fine as long as you’re feeling well. Just remember to be careful with sun exposure, don’t overexert yourself or lift anything heavy, and just listen to your body.”
“I will.”
“How has your morning sickness been? Still pretty rough?”
My thoughts go to this morning and the two times last night. I’d spent the night at Patton’s, and each time, he’d followed me into the bathroom, holding my hair back as I heaved into the toilet. Then, he’d wait until I drank some water before wrapping a protective arm around me until I fell asleep.
“It’s been challenging,” I answer, my hand squeezing Patton’s. “But manageable.”
Dr. Gilbert nods knowingly. “The nausea should wane in the next few weeks. In the meantime, eat small but frequent meals and stay hydrated.”
“I will,” I assure her with a smile, but I can’t help the prick of fear inside my gut. My hand travels down to my stomach instinctively, protective but trembling.
What if something goes wrong?
What if I lose this baby, too?
What if I get sick and need medical attention?
My spiraling thoughts must be evident on my face because as soon as Dr. Gilbert leaves and the door clicks shut, I feel the warmth of Patton’s hands framing my face.
“Hey.” His eyes search mine. “I can practically see those wheels turning. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I guess there’s something to be said for someone knowing you as long as Patton and I have known each other, because he can read me like a book.
I try to force a smile, but it wobbles. “I’m scared. What if something happens while we’re in Cabo? What if I—”
“Neesh.” Patton’s voice cuts through before I can ramble, firm yet gentle. “Look at me, baby. You’re going to be fine. I’ve hired a private nurse who’ll be on call while we’re there. And if anything at all feels off, we’ll be on the first flight back home. I promise.”
I nod, letting the certainty in his words anchor me.
This isn’t going to be like last time. None of it is going to be like last time.
I’ll have my husband there, and one day soon, I’ll have my baby, too.
Patton’s thumb skims the top of my cheek, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. “Now, did you hear what the doctor said about not overexerting yourself?”
“As if you’d even let me.”
A sly smile quirks up his lips as his hand travels down, skimming the side of my breast. His thumb grazes my nipple through the thin material before sliding lower, his fingers disappearing beneath the hem of my hospital gown, finding my bare center.
“Guess that means I’ll be doing all the work.”
“Patton—”
“Shh.” His lips brush mine as his fingers circle my clit. “Let me help you relax, baby. You don’t have to do anything but lay back for me.”
My eyes bounce between his, hesitation and desire at war inside me.
This is completely reckless and utterly inappropriate. We might be in a private room and told to push the call button when we’re ready, but if someone walked in here right now . . .
“Patton, the door isn’t even locked,” I whisper, feeling my body revving up despite my protest.
“Then you’ll just have to be quiet for me.”
Putting a halt to my train of thought, his tongue sweeps against the seam of my lips, parting them. And when it collides with my tongue, I moan into his mouth.
His fingers continue their ministrations, dipping down to find the wetness at my entrance. “That’s it, baby. Now, spread your legs wider.”
I do as he says, lacing my fingers through his hair, feeling his mouth ravish mine. My core tightens, begging to be filled as my desire coils tighter.
God, what are we doing?
Yet, I don’t want him to stop.
Patton dips the tip of one finger into my entrance, and with just that slight pressure, I go from simmering to high heat. It’s been like this ever since I got pregnant, my hormones rampant and my body ready to ignite with the slightest touch.
I bow against the ultrasound table, trembling and hungry for more. “Oh, God. Patton . . .”
Patton makes a satisfied growl deep in his chest, telling me how much he loves when I gasp out his name. His large hand cups my entire pussy, covering it with his palm like he’s rewarding me.
“God, this pussy is so soft,” he murmurs against my throat. “So wet and ready for me.”
His fingers roll slow, torturous circles over me like we’re not on a time limit, like there isn’t a doctor outside, probably wondering when we’ll push the call button for her.
Finally, a finger slips inside, gliding in deep and slick. It’s slightly wetter than usual, a subtle reminder of the ultrasound gel I never wiped off. A gasp escapes my lips as my walls clench around him, and I lose myself to the moment and his adept touch.
Gone is the worry about anyone outside; gone are the fears about the present or the future. Because right now, all I want is for him to make me forget my own name.
I swivel my hips, urging his finger in and out.
“More,” I beg. “I need more, Patton.”
He takes my nipple in his mouth, sucking it through the gown’s fabric, and I groan. God, he’s always been so good at giving my body the kind of attention it needs. He gently bites and tugs, and my hips grind against his hand.
He licks and flicks my nipple, now visible through the wet fabric, making me arch again when he blows on it, making it feel cold against my skin. “Want me to add another finger?”
“Yes. Maybe add two more.”
He laughs, kissing my collarbone. “Always so greedy for me.”
Pulling out the finger inside me, he pushes back in with one more, testing and teasing as I writhe against him.
“What do you think?” he asks, rocking his fingers in and out of me. “Can you really take another?”
I can barely think, my chest rising and falling, feeling like I’m about to explode. “If I can take your cock, I can take three of your fingers. Hell, just put me out of my misery and give me your dick.”
He chuckles, his shoulders shaking under my palms as he adds another digit. “I’m not getting inside you, baby; I just want you to get off. I’ll fuck you as many times as you want once we get home.”
Brushing kisses over my neck and jaw, he finger-fucks me while my eyelids flutter closed.
My head tips back and my mouth falls open as the first flickers of euphoria crest inside me, rippling from my core like a broken dam.
Every nerve ending sharpens as the need to culminate this delicious burn of pleasure takes over all my senses.
His bergamot and minty scent mixed with the scent of my own arousal, the sounds of our heavy breathing—Patton as turned-on as I am, even though I’m the one getting all the pleasure—along with the slick sounds of him pumping in and out, has me so revved-up, I’m sweating.
A part of me wants to prolong the moment, to edge myself from coming, even though we’ve been here way longer than any “private moment” should be.
But I know I won’t be able to, not with his fingers thrusting inside me like it was what they were made to do.
And then, I know I’m doomed in the best way when he curls them.
The tips of his fingers stroke my front walls, and I slam the back of my hand over my mouth to hold back my cry. I’m whimpering, shuddering, crumbling into pieces.
“That’s it, baby,” Patton coos. “Give me what I want.”
My hands fist his shirt as I pull his mouth to mine. My toes curl and my thighs tremble as my pussy contracts around his fingers. I rock my hips up as Patton continues to pump his fingers inside me until, just like that, I come undone.
Hovering over me, his mouth against mine, he swallows my scream as every muscle in my body constricts and loosens. I’m practically drowning in a flood of heat. My heart thumps against my chest, but what brings me even more satisfaction is feeling his heart beating just as hard against mine.
“Fuck, I love making you come,” Patton rasps, his fingers still working the last sparks of my orgasm until I’m completely spent.
Our kiss lingers, becoming sensual and tender, until I can finally take a satiated breath. “Good, because I never want you to stop.”
“Never again, baby. I want to own every single one of your orgasms.”
My eyes are half-hooded as I feel him gently remove his fingers from inside me before reaching over to get the wipes.
Rounding the table, he lifts the hem of my paper gown and glides the warm wipe down my seam.
My cheeks flame, knowing I’ve likely made a mess on the paper sheet covering the table I’m lying on.
But I don’t interrupt him, nor do I ask to take on the task myself.
I know the type of lover he is, the kind who worships my body after lovemaking just as much as he does during it.
While I’m usually the type to spring out of bed the minute my body recharges, Patton loves to hold me hostage, coaxing me to cuddle a little longer.
Once we’re all cleaned up, I slip back into my clothes, tossing the hospital gown into a bin. I press the call button, then catch my reflection on a glass armoire and frantically start patting my hair down, praying it doesn’t scream “just got finger-fucked by my ex-husband in an exam room”.
The door opens and the doctor walks in, her eyes flicking between me and Patton. His hands are in his pockets, hip leaning against the table, looking completely unmussed, like he’s just posing for a photoshoot.
Dr. Gilbert smirks. “I’m glad to hear that you took my advice to celebrate seriously.” She hands over the printouts of the sonogram. “Congratulations again.”
It’s when she leaves that her words, “I’m glad to hear,” register, making my face flame with mortification.