I was lost in a hurricane of questions when the door to the waiting room opened and there he was.
Bearded, handsome, and wearing his usual plaid and scowl.
He walked right over to me, bent at the waist to kiss the crown of my head, and took the seat next to me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard you had a doctor’s appointment.”
“How?”
“Karl saw Rachel in the coffee shop, who mentioned it to Bob, who told my mom, who called me.” His eyes narrowed with disapproval.
“It’s not a real appointment,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s only blood work.”
His nostrils flared as he assessed me. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here. I said I’d be here for every single minute.” He angled in and lowered his voice. “I told you. My wife will not do this alone.”
“Ex-wife,” I hissed, my blood pressure spiking. This, right here, was why I didn’t want him at every appointment. Smothering me and being all territorial. We needed distance and healthy boundaries, not whatever the forehead kisses and the thigh squeezes and the showing up uninvited situation was.
He shrugged. “Semantics. It’s the thought that counts.”
“That’s for gifts, not legally binding unions,” I snapped.
He squeezed my thigh again. His hand should not be there, like he owned my body or had some kind of claim to me. “I’m good with it, Dragonfly.”
“I’m not.” I picked his hand up and put it on the armrest of his chair.
“Ms. LeBlanc,” a nurse said from the doorway.
We both stood, and with a hand on the small of my back, he led me down the long hallway. With every step, I grew more annoyed.
The nurse weighed me, sent me to the bathroom for a urine sample, and quizzed me on my cycles and my diet. Then she gave me information about vitamins and supplements.
Totally standard. Totally boring.
Once she left the room, I turned to Gus. “See? You didn’t need to be here. I don’t need a chaperone to pee in a cup.”
He crossed his arms and sat back in the plastic chair against the wall. “I’m not missing anything. I’ll sit here quietly, and I won’t get in the way, but you can’t push me away, Chloe.”
He stared at me, and I stared right back, a mix of excitement, panic, and sheer exhaustion swirling within me. He wasn’t backing down. Bastard.
Our stare-down was interrupted by the doctor, who entered with a smile. She was middle-aged with a no-nonsense bob and pearl stud earrings. She had an air of competence around her that immediately put me at ease.
“So we’re going to listen to the heartbeat,” she said, pulling out a small machine that looked like a toy. “Lean back.”
I reclined on the table and pulled up my shirt, exposing my stomach, which did not look remotely pregnant.
She waved the wand over me, and weird scratchy noises filled the room.
“Hmm.” She moved the wand around. Adjusted the machine a few times, frowning. “Okay. I’m not able to get a heartbeat.”
I froze in panic and immediately looked to Gus.
He stepped closer, his brows pulled low in concern. “Is that a problem?”
She shook her head. “It’s relatively normal for the doppler not to pick it up this early.”
“And that thing looks like it’s made by Fisher Price,” Gus groused, nodding at the contraption.
My throat went tight, making it hard to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. God, what if something was wrong? My hands were shaking, and I could barely form words. I was forty. Ancient. And God, how much wine have I had over the years? Not to mention the lack of sleep and healthy food. I’d treated my body terribly. Of course it was failing at its most important job yet. Excellent, I was already failing at motherhood.
Gus put his hand on my shoulder. “What do we do next, doc?” he asked, his voice thick.
“We can either wait until your scheduled ten-week ultrasound, or I can see if the tech is free now to check.”
“Yes. Now,” I demanded.
Silently nodding in agreement, Gus squeezed my shoulder.
“Okay,” she said, setting the doppler on the counter. “Just give me a moment.” With that, she stepped out into the hall.
Tears stung my eyes as I attempted to breathe, still lying back with my shirt pulled up over my stomach.
Pulling me close, Gus kissed the top of my head. “It’s gonna be okay.”
I sniffled, clinging to his flannel shirt. “What if—”
“Shh.” He kissed my head again, the gesture soothing me more than I’d like. “Listen to me,” he said in a low, strong voice. “This is an exciting day. We get to meet our baby a few weeks early. I can’t wait to see if he or she already knows how to scowl. Or has a head of red hair.”
