CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bryce
Fourteen Weeks ~ Baby is the size of a Rubix cube
Ican’t say I ever expected to be in an OBGYN’s office again—but here I am. I walked into the waiting room with a tremor in my hands and my heart in my throat. For the first time since Leanne told me she was pregnant six weeks ago, the magnitude of this situation is truly hitting me.
I’m going to be a dad. Again. I was a dad, or felt like I was, but that title is something that was ripped from me, just like Sarah… Just like Sam.
Fuck.
I shake my hands out and press them into my knees to avoid running them through my hair.
I styled it and don’t want to look like a disheveled mess when Leanne walks in.
Even if my insides are an even worse mess, she doesn’t need to see a physical representation of it.
I will hold it together. I will be the man she needs me to be.
My arms collapse and I end up with my elbows on my thighs, staring down at my shoes in the silence of the waiting room.
A nearby clock ticks incessantly, and it grates against my raw nerves.
My knee begins to bounce and my muscles coil, and I’m ready to stand up and start pacing when the door opens.
I almost crick my neck with how fast I snap my head up to lock eyes with the beautiful blonde who is never far from my mind.
Even this morning, while I was on my back in the dirt under Alex’s old tractor, I was thinking of her—thinking about what she’d have said about my greasy T-shirt and dirty hands.
“Hey.” It comes out too loud and I clear my throat to try again. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Leanne’s voice is quiet, nervous, and her gaze darts around the waiting room as well.
This is the first time I’ve seen her since we parted ways in her parents’ driveway almost two weeks ago.
My largest wedding of the season was this past weekend and it kept me pretty well tied to the ranch in preparation.
This week, Leanne had a conference for a rodeo association and worked late every day.
But with October finally drawing to a close, my calendar has more blank space.
Hopefully that means we won’t have to go weeks without seeing each other.
I swipe my sweaty palms down my jeans and then lift my arms on instinct only to drop them just as quickly. She hugged me after dinner with her family, but I still don’t know where our boundaries are.
I want it all… but being essentially friend-zoned has me questioning every touch.
Her lip quirks up and she throws me a bone, stepping forward so I can take her in my arms. I press my nose into her hair like I did on her parents’ driveway and inhale the scent of her shampoo. It acts like a drug to my brain, waking me up while also pulling me under its spell.
“Thanks for inviting me today,” I say, pulling back as a door opens and a nurse steps out.
“Leanne Kole,” she says in a reedy voice.
Leanne steps out of my arms and says, “That’s me.”
I follow in her wake, taking deep breaths as quietly as possible to keep the hallway walls from closing in.
The nurse glances at me and I give her my best smile.
Being here is a good thing—or that’s what I keep telling myself—because I can ask questions and get reassurances without having to raise suspicions with Leanne about why I’m so worried.
I focus on the random baby pictures hanging on the wall while the nurse in purple scrubs records Leanne’s weight, then leads us to a room at the end of the hall.
It’s not until we’re inside and I notice the drape sitting on the end of a paper-covered bed that I realize Leanne might have to undress. My eyes go round and bounce from the bed to Leanne, finding hers as big as saucers.
“I, uh… Do I need to, um…” Leanne stutters over the words, staring imploringly at the nurse.
“Oh, no, you shouldn’t need to undress today. The drape is there for when we check the heartbeat to ensure we don’t get any of the gel on your clothes.”
Leanne’s shoulders relax and her relief is palpable.
It’s not like I don’t want to see her with her clothes off again, but that doesn’t seem very “friendly”… and it’s completely different in this clinical, sterile context.
“Okay, good. I mean, thank you,” Leanne stammers, and I don’t know where it comes from, but I chuckle, which earns me a glare. “Like you weren’t thinking the same thing,” she hisses as the nurse checks something on her tablet before pulling on a pair of gloves.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before,” I whisper back with a smirk. She looks like she wants to throw something at me, but before she can, the door opens again.
“You’re not riling up my patient, now are you?” Becca asks with a pointed look in my direction from where she stands in the doorframe.
“I would never,” I say with a sweet smile, the picture of innocence.
Becca rolls her eyes and gives me a light shove before facing Leanne. “And how are you feeling, Leanne?” she asks, then lowers her voice conspiratorially. “If he’s driving you crazy, I can throw him out.”
Leanne laughs and the bright sound releases some of the tension coiling behind my sternum. She seems at ease with Becca, and I’m glad for it. I worried the revelation that I was married to her sister might give her pause about seeing Becca, but it doesn’t seem to have made a difference.
“I’m feeling pretty good. The nausea is mostly gone, and I’ve even skipped a few doses of the Zofran and haven’t been immediately sick.”
“You have?” I interrupt, and she nods. That’s news to me, but it’s definitely good news.
Becca voices my thoughts. “I’m glad to hear it. Now that you’re in your second trimester, you can wean yourself off and see how you feel. Many women find the nausea goes away entirely once they get past the first trimester. Hopefully you will too.”
“That would be amazing. Maybe I’ll try to go without this weekend and see what happens.”
Becca smiles widely with a nod of agreement. Her broad mouth filled with perfect white teeth pushes her cheeks up and makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. It’s a smile that reminds me of when she was a little kid running around after me and her sister—it’s a smile that makes my heart ache.
“Everything else going okay?” she asks Leanne while the nurse, Kendi, moves around her, rolling up her sleeve to take her blood pressure. “How’s your energy? Work’s going alright?”
“It’s getting better. Though my bedtime tends to be closer to eight o’clock and I struggle to get up in the morning, which has never been an issue for me in the past. This week was a little rough because we had a big association conference and I was at the venue late most nights.
” In response to this, she yawns, which makes me yawn.
With a chuckle, Becca looks between us and says, “That’s very normal and should also get better now that you’re in the second trimester. So, what questions do you have for me?”
Before I can ask anything, Leanne pulls out a list from her pocket, covered in her loopy handwriting. I can’t help but smile at how meticulously prepared she is.
“When should I be able to feel the baby moving?” is her first question.
This was on my mental list as well. For some reason, I can’t remember exactly when Sarah said she felt Sam for the first time.
“For first pregnancies, it can take longer because you don’t know what you’re feeling.
Internally you may feel flutters anytime now, but if you don’t, it doesn’t mean anything is wrong.
It mostly depends on the location of your placenta.
For example, if you have an anterior placenta—meaning it’s attached at the front of the uterus, here,” she says, indicating with her pinky along the front of her own stomach, “it may take longer to feel anything at all. Some women report not feeling anything internally until the baby is strong enough to be felt externally as well.”
Leanne nods, chewing her lip as she absorbs this information.
“By twenty to twenty-two weeks, you should feel the baby from the outside, so don’t be nervous if it takes a while yet.
I know it’s the easiest indicator that all is well, but I don’t see any reason for you to be concerned,” Becca says, her eyes finding mine for a moment, and I give her a small nod, understanding she means this for me as much as for Leanne.
Leanne peppers Becca with additional questions: When does she need to start sleeping on her side? What tests should we consider and schedule? When will our anatomy scan be? Can the baby hear us?
The thing I love most of all is how most of her questions are in the plural.
We. Our. Us.
I feel more at ease with each word tying us together, until Becca says, “Why don’t you go ahead and lie back.”
I’m immediately in motion, offering my hand to help Leanne lower herself down—not that she needs it, but I appreciate that she takes it all the same.
Our eyes are locked, her hand in mine. I feel the blood pulsing through my extremities, and I wonder if my quickened heart rate is something she can feel through this small touch.
“Ready to hear baby’s heartbeat?” Becca asks.
My intake of breath is too sharp, too loud. I frantically search out Becca and when my gaze catches hers, I find an encouraging smile on her face. I squeeze my eyes shut for only a second to regroup. Then I look down at Leanne—my focus fully back on her.
Her curious gaze is hot against my skin, so I smile and squeeze her hand three times in reassurance, communicating that everything is fine.
My voice is a little hoarse when I respond for us both, “That sounds great.”
Leanne nods in agreement, holding my stare before reaching for the hem of her shirt and lifting it to reveal her still flat stomach.
I’ve seen every inch of her skin, touched it, tasted it, but this is altogether more intimate.
Becca slips on a pair of gloves, but my eyes are locked on Leanne’s abdomen, on the place our baby is.
Our baby. The stinging sensation travels from the back of my throat to settle almost painfully in my sinuses.
Leanne squeezes my hand three times, just like I did for her. It soothes the rising emotions and I breathe a little easier, sniffing back the unwelcome tears.
Becca tucks the drape inside the waistband of Leanne’s leggings, and I look away before she pulls them down to expose her lower abdomen. I find myself staring into the hazel pools of Leanne’s eyes instead.
“I thought it would be cold,” Leanne says, holding my stare.
“We keep the gel in a warmer. Why make this any more uncomfortable than it needs to be, am I right?” Becca asks, her voice relaxed and jovial—the perfect bedside manner for keeping her patient calm and at ease… as well as the very anxious dad-to-be.
“You do a great job of keeping it from being uncomfortable,” Leanne states.
I can hear the smile in Becca’s voice. “Thank you. Now let’s find your baby.”
Leanne’s grip tightens in mine and I skim my thumb across the tops of her knuckles. When she glances down, so do I, and we watch as Becca begins moving the doppler across her smooth skin, swiping it from hip bone to hip bone. I don’t think Leanne is breathing… I’m not sure I am either.
After a moment of thrumming static, there’s a steady thwump thwump thwump that issues from the machine and Becca adjusts the wand a little more to find the exact spot where it shows up most clearly.
The tears I held at bay a moment ago reappear and I squeeze my eyes shut, letting my head fall back as I listen to the continued sound of a heartbeat that now supersedes my own. A sound that burrows into my very soul, becoming a new anchor to the world around me—to the woman beside me.
With another attempt to sniff back my tears, I look down and find an awestruck Leanne.
They couldn’t find the heartbeat with the doppler at her first appointment, only visually on the ultrasound, so this is her first time hearing it as well.
A single tear escapes the pooling silver at her lash line, and I reach my free hand to catch it, then coast my thumb across her cheek and back again.
I feel a tear of my own fall, tracking down my face until it gets lost in my beard. Something passes between Leanne and me in that moment, something more than words or emotions or thoughts can comprehend.
The sound fills the room like a symphony. Thwump-wump thwump-wump thwump-wump.
I forgot this sound. It was lost somewhere over the past seven years—to the sands of time or to my blocking it out—but it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
My lips twitch into a smile, a true one.
One that is only for Leanne, for the gift of this moment with her I never believed I’d have again.
“They have a perfect, strong heartbeat,” Becca says, and I glance up to see her eyes are a little misty as well.
Perfect.
Strong.
Mine. They’re mine. Both of them. Even if they don’t know it yet.