She stared at me, her breathing slow and steady. Then, finally, she whispered, “Do you? Are you?—”
“Yes.” I didn’t let her finish. “Melanie, I didn’t listen, and I fell in love with you.”
Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening on my shirt, holding onto me like I was the only solid thing in her world.
And maybe I was.
56
MELANIE
It had been weeks since Sergeant Carter and Mills showed up at our house, but the unease never left me. Every time I walked outside, every time a car slowed near the house, I felt it—that prickling sensation along the back of my neck, like I was constantly being watched. The paranoia was justified now that I knew my father had orchestrated the whole thing. There was no telling what he’d do, how much he’d pay, just to win.
Nick had broken it down for me—there was no way the Army Criminal Investigation Department would have jumped on our case over a single, unproven accusation of fraud. My father had to have paid them off and greased the right palms to get them to our doorstep so quickly. So I decided we needed to stay ahead of him.
Last Sunday, after church, Nick and I spent the day staging our perfect love story. We hit up every romantic hotspot in town, taking pictures at each one, smiling at dinner, playing miniature golf, holding hands on the rides at Silver Dollar City. Between stops, I changed clothes in the car so it looked like different days, different moments in time. The next morning, I took the photos to the local grocery store and had them printed. Some went in picture frames, others in a box, ready to be produced as evidence. If they asked why we hadn’t shown them before, I already had ananswer locked and loaded,Because you didn’t check the one room my husband and I fuck in daily.Just the thought of saying it to their faces made me smirk.
Now, I sat perched on the edge of an examination table, wrapped in a thin hospital gown that barely covered me. The cool paper beneath me crinkled with every shift of my weight. Nick had insisted I come here to talk to a doctor about pregnancy and what it would mean for me as a Type 1 diabetic. While I was here, he also wanted me checked for everything. And I meant everything.
Josh had recommended the Ozark Women’s Clinic, where he planned to do his residency next year. “Best clinic in the state,” he’d said. Luckily for me, cost wasn’t an issue because I was on Nick’s insurance.
The door swung open. A man walked in, tall and lean, with a confident stride that said he’d been doing this for years. His features were sharp, his glasses slightly askew, giving him that nerdy-but-handsome look. He barely glanced at the clipboard before his eyes settled on me.
“Melanie,” he greeted, casual but professional. “How are you doing today?”
“Fine.” My voice came out smaller than I expected.
“So, it’s my understanding you had some questions about pregnancy, and we’re here to do your first checkup?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice.
He nodded, drying his hands off on a paper towel before tossing it into the trash. “Which one do you want to start with first?”
I blinked. “First?”
“Yeah. Questions, or the Pap smear?” His tone was light, almost teasing. “Or I could do them both at the same time. Your choice. I like to give control to my patients, especially first-timers.”
Why did that sound like more than just a medical procedure? Heat crept up my neck, and I mentally cursed myself for being so immature.
“Uh, questions,” I said quickly.
“Alright.” He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Shoot.”
I took a breath. “I have Type 1 diabetes… Am I even going to be able to have my own children?”
He smiled, flashing a set of perfect teeth. “Of course, you can.”
I hesitated. “But… Steel Magnolias is the only thing that comes to mind when I think about diabetes and pregnancy.”
He chuckled. “That movie came out over thirty years ago. A lot has changed since then.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “With today’s advancements in diabetes management, women can absolutely have healthy pregnancies—with proper planning and care. Insulin therapy, blood glucose monitoring, new technologies… they’ve all drastically improved outcomes.”
A wave of relief washed over me. Nick had been right—talking to a professional did help. But still, a small knot of fear remained. Was it my health that scared me more, or the idea of actually raising a child? Just months ago, I had no clue what I was doing with my life. Now I was talking about having a baby and becoming a stay-at-home mom? Was this really what I wanted?
“Any other questions?” Dr. Neilson’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“Not that I can think of.”
“If something pops into your head, just blurt it out.” He rolled his stool closer. “In the meantime, I need you to scoot back and place your feet in those stirrups so I can scrape the inner lining of your cervix.”
