“Miss. Stanton, Mr. Levine, I’m Doctor Yang,” She shakes both our hands before she turns her focus to the monitor, the chart dangling from her fingers. I watch her face closely, waiting for her expression to change but it never happens and then she takes a seatbehind the desk, opening the chart.
“Everything looks great,” She tells us both but Bast is still staring at the screen. “Healthy heartbeat and no issues by the looks of things. It appears baby is measuring around eight weeks which matches to your estimation too.”
I nod, blinking. Healthy. Heartbeat. No issues.
“What happens now?”
“Well, I’ll see you in four weeks’ time,” She closes my chart, “But until then, nothing. Rest up, I understand you’ve been experiencing some morning sickness which will hopefully pass after the first trimester, but everything is looking good.”
“Thank you,” I smile at her and sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
“Can I have a print?” Sebastian asks, finally joining the conversation.
“Of course, Mr. Levine,” Doctor Yang gets up from the desk and crosses to the monitor, clicking a couple of keys which sets a small printer off sat to the side. Two black and white prints of the screen pop out and she hands them over to him.
“We will see you in four weeks,” She smiles and shakes our hands again. I take Sebastian’s hand and exit, practically dragging him since he’s so entranced by the images in his fingers.
It’s not until we hit the street and the chill in the airchases away the warmth that he finally looks away from the pictures.
He moves too quick for me to react and the next thing I know I’m being hauled to his chest, his arms wrapping around me tightly. He rests his face in my hair at the top of my head, one hand cradling the back of my skull.
I hear the fast beat of his heart against my ear, feel the tremor in his limbs.
“What’s wrong?” I ask into his chest. I know he hears me because his arms tighten but for a few long seconds, he doesn’t speak, he just holds me in the middle of the sidewalk, people walking all around us, grumbling their annoyance at us taking up space.
He pulls away slowly from me, his hands snaking around to cup my face in his big hands, “Thank you, Willow.” He murmurs before he leans in and gently presses his mouth to mine, “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“Everything,” He kisses me again. Soft, slow.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Istare at the black and white image of Willow’s scan. It’s been in my hand since the appointment this morning, it’s now late evening, the sun long set and Willow is showering.
But I can’t stop looking at it, as if it’ll cease to exist if I do.
I haven’t been good the past two weeks, been here but not present but that changes now. Perhaps I just didn’t think it was real, perhaps I thought it was a dream or a scare until right now. My thumb brushes over the shape on the scan, this small little bean. My little bean.
My heart thumps wildly, my stomach twisting.
Flicking my eyes up, I see Willow enter the room, her eyes down, a towel wrapped around her body. I have so many feelings inside of me I don’t know what to do with it. Toward her. Toward the child growing inside of her. Anger, and fear and protectiveness. I’m so fucking scared of fucking up I haven’t been here for her.
I’ve seen and pretended I didn’t. She’s wanted me and I’ve rejected her, not because I don’t feel the same but because I’m too fucking scared of doing something wrong. But not now, not anymore.
I need her.
“Willow,” Her name is a raw, pleading sound from my lips, and she pauses at her closet, looking over her shoulder to me. I see what I’ve done in the depths of her eyes, I see the sorrow and the fear. I’m here but I’m not.
I place the scan on the bedside table and stand, stripping out of the jacket I’ve not taken off since I put it on this morning.
Her brows lift as she watches me advance, stopping only when I’m in front of her and looking down. She tips her head back to watch me, blue eyes meeting mine.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp, lifting a hand to place it against her abdomen, something I’ve done countless times over the last couple weeks but this time it feels different. It feels real. “I promised I wouldn’t fail you and I have.”
She drops my eyes.
I curl my finger beneath her chin and tilt her face, so she is looking at me once more, “You asked me how I really felt about this,” I say, “And I avoided it. But the truth?”
