18. TRUTH #2
“Mama,” I said as she headed toward the door. She turned back. “Thank you. For being here. For-for everything.”
She smiled, and for the first time in weeks, it reached her eyes. “That’s what mamas do, baby. We show up. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”
She left the bathroom, and I heard her moving around in the kitchen, probably starting coffee, probably already planning what she’d make me for breakfast.
I picked up the three tests and lined them up on the counter. Three sets of two pink lines. Three confirmations. Three pieces of evidence that my life had just changed forever.
In an hour, Amai would be here. In an hour, we’d go to the clinic and get the blood test and make this official. In an hour, everything would be real in a way it hadn’t been before.
But right now, in this moment, it was just me and these three tests and the knowledge that I’d done it. My body had done what it was supposed to do. The transfer had worked.
I was pregnant.
And for the first time in two weeks—maybe for the first time since I’d signed that contract—I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.
Amai arrived exactly one hour later, just like he’d promised.
I heard his car pull up before I saw it—the low purr of an expensive engine that didn’t belong on our street. I was sitting on the porch steps with Mama, both of us nursing coffee in the early morning quiet, when the black Mercedes turned onto our block.
Mama raised an eyebrow. “That man don’t waste no time, do he?”
“No,” I said quietly. “He doesn’t.”
I stood as Amai parked in front of the house. My legs felt shaky, like they weren’t quite sure they wanted to hold me up. The pregnancy tests were in my purse, wrapped in tissue paper like something precious. Evidence. Proof. Three pink lines that had changed everything.
Amai got out of the car and walked toward us.
He was wearing dark jeans and a black button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking like a man who’d gotten dressed in a hurry but still managed to look put together.
His eyes found mine immediately, and something in my chest tightened at the intensity in his gaze.
“Morning,” he said, his voice rough like he hadn’t slept either.
“Morning,” I managed.
Mama stood, coffee cup in hand, and studied him with that sharp, knowing look she’d perfected over fifty-three years of reading people. “You taking care of my baby?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Amai said without hesitation.
“Good.” Mama nodded slowly. “Because if you don’t, I’ll find out where you live.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Amai’s mouth—brief, genuine. “I believe you.”
Mama looked at me. “You call me when you get done.”
“I will, Mama.”
She kissed my forehead, squeezed my hand, and went back inside. The screen door banged shut behind her, leaving Amai and me standing in the early morning light.
“You ready?” he asked.
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I was ready for any of this. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
The drive to Dr. Beaumont’s clinic was quiet at first. Amai kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the center console between us. I stared out the window, watching the Seventh Ward wake up—corner stores opening, people heading to work, kids waiting for the school bus.
Normal life.
My life used to be normal too. Before the divorce. Before the contract. Before Amai Landry walked into my world and turned everything upside down.
“You eat?” Amai asked, breaking the silence.
“Toast. Mama made me.”
“Good.”
I glanced at him. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. He looked like a man bracing for impact, like he was preparing himself for something he couldn’t control.
“You okay?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away. Just kept his eyes on the road, his grip on the steering wheel steady. Then, quietly, “Ask me after we know for sure.”
My hand moved to my stomach without thinking. Still flat. Still the same. But different now. Changed in ways I couldn’t see yet but could feel in every cell of my body.
Amai’s hand left the center console and found mine. His fingers laced through mine, warm, solid, and grounding. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at me. Just held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And he didn’t let go.
Not when we pulled into the clinic parking lot. Not when we walked through the front doors. Not when the receptionist checked us in and told us Dr. Beaumont would be with us shortly.
He held my hand like he was afraid if he let go, I’d disappear.
The blood draw was quick. The phlebotomist was efficient and kind, chatting about the weather while she tied the tourniquet around my arm and found the vein. I watched the vial fill with dark red blood—proof of what the pregnancy tests had already told me.
“Results should be back in about twenty minutes,” she said, pressing a cotton ball to the puncture site. “Dr. Beaumont will go over everything with you.”
Twenty minutes felt like an eternity.
Amai and I sat in the waiting room, his hand still holding mine.
I could feel the tension radiating off him—controlled, contained, but there.
He was a man used to being in control of everything, and this was something he couldn’t control.
Couldn’t fix. Couldn’t negotiate or intimidate into submission.
All we could do was wait.
“Truth,” he said quietly.
I looked at him.
His eyes were dark, serious, searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I could give him. “Whatever happens in there, whatever the results say, we’re in this together. You understand?”
I nodded, my throat tight. “I understand.”
“Good.”
The door to the exam rooms opened, and a nurse appeared. “Truth Renois?”
We both stood.
Dr. Beaumont was already in the exam room when we walked in, sitting at the computer with my chart pulled up on the screen. She turned when we entered, her expression warm and professional.
“Good morning,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Nervous,” I admitted.
“That’s normal.” Dr. Beaumont gestured to the exam table. “Have a seat. Let’s talk about your results.”
I climbed onto the table, the paper crinkling beneath me. Amai stood next to me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, his presence solid and grounding.
Dr. Beaumont pulled up the lab results on the screen. “Your HCG levels are at 127. That’s a strong positive. Congratulations—you’re pregnant.”
The words hit me like a wave.
You’re pregnant.
I’d known. The tests had told me. But hearing it from Dr. Beaumont made it real in a way the pink lines hadn’t. Official. Undeniable. A medical fact that couldn’t be argued with or wished away.
I looked at Amai. His face was unreadable, but his hand tightened around mine.
“Now,” Dr. Beaumont continued, “it’s still very early. We’re going to do an ultrasound to confirm placement and make sure everything looks good. It’s too early to see much, but we should be able to see the gestational sac.”
She moved to the ultrasound machine and gestured for me to lie back. I did, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Amai stayed next to me, his hand never leaving mine.
Dr. Beaumont lifted my shirt and squeezed gel onto my lower abdomen. The gel was cold, shocking against my skin. She pressed the transducer against my stomach, and the screen flickered to life—black and white and grainy, shapes that didn’t make sense to my untrained eye.
“There,” Dr. Beaumont said, pointing to a small dark circle on the screen. “That’s the gestational sac. Right where it should be.”
I stared at the screen. That tiny dark circle was my baby. Amai’s baby. A cluster of cells that would become a person, a life, a future.
“And there,” Dr. Beaumont said, adjusting the transducer slightly. “Do you see that flicker?”
I squinted at the screen. There was something—a tiny, rapid flutter in the center of the sac. Barely visible. But there.
“Is that—” My voice broke.
“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Beaumont said gently. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Strong and steady.”
The room went silent.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything except stare at that tiny flicker on the screen—proof that this was real, that my body had done what it was supposed to do, that there was a life growing inside me.
Amai’s hand tightened around mine. When I looked at him, his eyes were fixed on the screen, his expression raw and unguarded in a way I’d never seen before. Like every wall he’d ever built had just crumbled to dust.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Beaumont said, her voice warm. “You’re officially pregnant.”
The rest of the appointment passed in a blur. Dr. Beaumont printed out ultrasound pictures, prescribed prenatal vitamins, gave instructions about rest and nutrition, and what to avoid. I nodded along, trying to absorb the information, but my mind was still stuck on that tiny flicker on the screen.
Heartbeat.
My baby had a heartbeat.
“I’ll see you in two weeks for a follow-up,” Dr. Beaumont said as we stood to leave. “In the meantime, take it easy. No heavy lifting. Plenty of rest. And call me if you have any concerns—bleeding, severe cramping, anything that doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”
Dr. Beaumont smiled. “You’re doing great, Truth. Keep it up.”
We didn’t speak until we were in the parking lot.
Amai unlocked the car but didn’t open the door. Just stood there, keys in hand, staring at nothing. I stopped next to him. The ultrasound pictures were clutched in my hand like a lifeline.
“This is real,” I said quietly.
He looked at me. “Yeah.”
“I’m carrying your baby.”
“Yeah.”
The word hung between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. Everything we couldn’t say. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
Amai stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine. “Now we make sure you and the baby stay safe. That’s the only thing that matters.”
“The contract?—”