I turn to the woman beside me and smile, knowing she’s talking about Lincoln. “I know.”
“I couldn’t pay my husband to come to one of these appointments with me. If he would just make an effort, I’d probably promise him sex every night for the rest of his life. Is that what you did?” she asks, rubbing her stomach, which is huge. She has to be at least four weeks overdue. “You bribed him, didn’t you?”
I shake my head. “No bribes. He wanted to come.”
“Damn. Some girls have all the luck.” Her eyes shift to my left hand. “Snag him up, sweetie. Guys like that don’t come around often.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Don’t need to know him. He came. That alone gives him, like, a thousand points. On top of that, he hasn’t stopped staring at you.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. He keeps looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. Dan ain’t looked at me like that in years.”
My eyes dart to the door, waiting for Lincoln to walk back through and hoping I can see what she’s talking about. A minute or so later, the waiting room door opens, and Lincoln walks in. His eyes are instantly on mine. They’re warm, inviting, and not once do they stray to the other women in the room.
“You okay?” he asks, taking his seat beside me. He places his hand on my stomach and smiles.
“We’re perfect.” I put my hand on top of his.
“Keeper,” the woman beside me whispers.
“Adley Allen?” a nurse calls as she steps into the waiting room.
“That’s me.” Lincoln and I both stand and follow her back into the office.
“My name is Karen. I’m Dr. Stahl’s nurse today. Let’s start with your weight,” she says, motioning to an alcove.
I kick off my shoes and step on. She records the number and then leads us to exam room two and shuts the door.
“You can set your stuff there and have a seat on the table. Dad, you can have a seat on the chair.”
The smile on Lincoln’s face is priceless. “Dad,” he mouths.
I grin and hold out my arm when the nurse reaches for a blood pressure cuff. “I’m going to get your vitals,” she says.
Lincoln watches intently as she checks my blood pressure, pulse, and temperature, and then he listens as she runs through a series of questions. When she’s done, she sets out a gown.
“Put this on for us, open to the front.”
When she slips from the room, Lincoln stands up. “Want me to step out?”
“No need.” I strip my clothes off, hoping to garner some sort of reaction, but Lincoln is the perfect gentleman. He keeps his eyes down, giving me privacy. I want to shake my tits in his face, just to feel the heat of his gaze on my body, but knowing my luck, the doctor would walk in. That wouldn’t be fun to explain.
I slip my arms into the gown, close it as best as I can, and sit on the table.
Just when I’m about to ask Lincoln about his day, there’s a brisk knock on the door. Dr. Stahl walks in with a welcoming smile and holds out a hand, to me first and then Lincoln.
“It’s nice to see you again, Adley.”
“Thank you. You too, Dr. Stahl. This is my…uh…this is…”
“Lincoln Bennett,” he says, holding out a hand. “I’m the father of the baby.”
Dr. Stahl shakes Lincoln’s hand, and I mentally slap myself for stuttering. I wanted so badly to call him my boyfriend, but I’m not sure where we stand.
We seriously need to talk.
“All right. Let’s get down to business, shall we? Today we’re going to do a viability ultrasound. Based on the date of your last menstrual period, my calculation is that you’re approximately nine weeks along. We’ll know more after the ultrasound.”
Dr. Stahl takes a seat next to the table and starts messing with a giant machine. “Go ahead and lean back for me, Adley. Good. And put your feet in the stirrups. Perfect. Lincoln, if you’d like to move in a little closer, you can.”
I reach out my hand. Lincoln grips it tight and moves around to stand by my head.
Dr. Stahl covers the lower half of my body with a blanket and pulls the bottom up over my knees. She slides a condom over a long wand and squirts lubricant on it.
“Uhh…what’s that?” Lincoln asks.
Smiling Dr. Stahl holds up the wand. “Adley is still early in her pregnancy, so we’re doing a vaginal ultrasound. But don’t worry, this won’t hurt the baby.”
“I wasn’t worried about the baby; I was worried about Adley,” Lincoln says with a horrified look.
Giggling, I squeeze his hand.
“We won’t hurt mama either,” Dr. Stahl reassures. “Okay, here we go.”
She touches the inside of each thigh, and I drop my legs open. Gently, she inserts the wand, and the screen in front of us comes to life. Lincoln and I watch the monitor as she shifts the wand from side to side.
Tilting my head, I try to see what she’s looking at, but the images on the screen are blurry.
“Are you sure there’s a baby in there, doc?” Lincoln asks.
Dr. Stahl grins and moves the wand around a few more times. “See this?”
There’s a small white blob on the screen, and when Dr. Stahl moves the wand a little to the left, that white blob starts to move.
Lincoln sucks in a breath. “Is that…”
“That is your baby’s heartbeat. Specifically, those are the valves opening and closing.”
“That’s our baby,” I breathe, watching the screen in awe.
Our baby.
A perfect little piece of me and Lincoln.
We created this.
I look up at Lincoln, unable to speak. His eyes are full of tears. Keeping his eyes on the screen, he leans down and touches his lips to my forehead.
“I love you so much,” he whispers.
Squeezing his hand, I close my eyes. He’s taking care of me, not just the baby. If those five words in this moment—along with all of the other things he’s done—don’t prove that to me, I don’t know what will. He’s looking out for both me and the baby. When he says he loves me, he means it. And the lady from the waiting room was right; I am lucky.
Opening my eyes, I tug Lincoln’s hand until he looks down at me. “Lincoln, I l—”
“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” Dr. Stahl asks, unintentionally cutting me off.
“Yes,” Lincoln says. “We’d love to.”
Dr. Stahl gently pulls the wand out and lowers the blanket, covering the bottom half of my body. She then pulls the top of the blanket down, exposing my belly, and grabs a transducer from the machine.
“This might be a little cold,” she says, squirting a blue-tinged gel onto my stomach.
“Just a little,” I say, watching her lower the small wand to my skin. She slides it across my belly.
At first nothing happens, and I start to get worried. I can tell Lincoln feels the same way, because he moves a little closer and tightens his grip on my hand. And then the most miraculous thing happens: a tiny whooshing noise fills the air.
“There it is. That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
“It’s so fast,” Lincoln says, laughing.
“It’s perfectly normal.”
“Can we listen to it for just a little bit longer?” I ask, looking up at the doctor.
She smiles down at me. “Of course. This is such an exciting time for a couple. There’s nothing quite like hearing your baby’s heart beat for the first time.”
Lincoln props an elbow up on the back of the exam table and angles his hand so he can brush his fingers lightly across my forehead. When I look up, a tear rolls down his cheek, and I brush it away.
He looks down and smiles. “We’re having a baby.”
“You’re going to be the best dad in the entire world.”
Lincoln kisses my forehead again. “And you’re going to be the best mom.”
Holy crap, I’m going to be a mom.
“That was crazy,
right? I’m still in shock,” Lincoln muses, pulling into my driveway.
We left the doctor’s office ten minutes ago, and he hasn’t stopped talking about the ultrasound and hearing the baby’s heartbeat. I love his enthusiasm, and I’m just as excited, but I need him to calm down because I have a few things I’d like to say.
“Would you like to come in and we can talk about it?”
Lincoln looks down at his watch, and I realize he likely changed his schedule around to take me to the doctor’s office. He might have other plans this evening. My stomach drops, and I shake my head.
“If you can’t, I understand.”
“I can. Just let me make a phone call first, and I’ll be right in,” he says.
“Okay.”
I slide from the car and walk to the front door, wondering who he has to call and realizing at the same time that I lost the privilege of getting to know. With a heavy sigh, I open the front door and drop my purse on the couch.
Hands on my hips, I stare at the small space I call home. It isn’t much, but it’s cozy and warm, and it’s in a good neighborhood. It also has a small yard that’ll be perfect for a toddler. A family would grow out of this place in a few years, but it’s a great starter home for us.
If that’s what Lincoln has decided he wants.
The front door shuts, and I spin around. Lincoln’s hands are tucked in his pockets, and he’s watching me.
“Did you get everything taken care of?” I ask.
“Yup.”
He offers nothing more, and I don’t ask, because it’s still not my business.
Not yet at least.
“Come here,” I tell him. “I want to show you something.”
Lincoln kicks off his boots and follows me to the back bedroom. For the last four years, it’s been my makeshift office. But not anymore.
I push the door open and let Lincoln walk in ahead of me. I follow behind him and try to see the room through his eyes. The once-packed space is empty, except for a plastic drape laid out across the floor, three cans of paint, and all the tools I’ll need to transform the room.
“Where’d your desk go?” he asks.
“I took it apart and moved it.”
“What do you mean?” His voice is firm and a little cold, and I take a step back.
“Exactly what I said.”
“Adley, that was a solid-wood desk. It was heavy.”
“So?”
“So?” Lincoln shakes his head and turns to me. “You’re pregnant, Adley. You shouldn’t be lifting anything that heavy.”
I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t bad. I took it apart first, so I moved it in pieces. It’s not like I lifted the whole thing at once.”
“What about everything else that was in here?”
“I moved it all.”
“Dammit, Adley. Why didn’t you ask for help?”
“Because we weren’t exactly talking,” I bite back, hating the direction this conversation is going. I brought him in here to make things better, not worse.
“I don’t care. I’m here for you. I’m here for the baby. From now on, if you need anything, you call me. Got it?”
“I don’t like the way you’re talking to me.”
“Well, I don’t like that you’re trying to do all this shit by yourself,” he says, waving toward the paint cans. “Jesus Christ, Adley. You can’t paint. The fumes can’t be good for the baby.”
“I talked to the guy at the hardware store and bought the low-fume paint. It’s supposed to be safe for pregnant women.”
“I don’t care if it’s safe for puppies to eat; you’re not painting the room.”
“Damn it, Lincoln,” I growl, fighting back tears. “Stop telling me what I can and can’t do. I’m pregnant, not disabled.”
Lowering his head, Lincoln rubs a hand along the back of his neck. “Shit, I don’t want to fight with you.” He shakes his head. “I’m trying to look out for you and protect you, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me.”
“And I’m trying to keep myself busy because I miss you, and I don’t know what else to do. I can’t study because I can’t concentrate. All I can think about is you and the baby, and I just want him or her to have a room.”
Lincoln takes a step forward and looks at me as though he wants to pull me into his arms, but something holds him back. Resolve washes over his face, and he looks down at the paint.
“Then let’s paint.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Right now?”
“Why not? You got something else to do this evening?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “Now is perfect. Let me go change.”
I run into my bedroom and change into an old pair of pants and a ratty T-shirt. He’s offering me an olive branch, and I’m taking it. By the time I return, Lincoln has the baseboard taped off and is working on the corners of the wall. When he’s finished, he turns to me.
“What color are we doing first?”
“I bought the light gray for this wall, and I thought I’d do the other walls in yellow.”
He lifts a brow. “Yellow?”
“It’s neutral. It’ll work for a girl or a boy.”
“Yellow it is.” He pops the top off the primer, mixes it, and pours some into a paint pan.
“I have a few rules,” he says, handing me a paint roller. “Stay low. Let me worry about the high spots, and under no circumstances do you get on that ladder.”
“Deal.”
Climbing on the ladder, Lincoln works on edging along the ceiling and the corners, while I start at the base, and we work our way toward each other. The wall is small, and within an hour we’ve got the primer and first coat of gray paint on.
“I love it,” I say, setting my roller down in the pan. “What do you think?”
“It looks good.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I say, fighting a yawn.
Lincoln looks at his watch. “It’s getting late. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Go get in the shower. I’ll get this mess cleaned up, and we’ll order a pizza.”
“I’ll make it fast.”
“Take your time,” he hollers as I walk into the bathroom and strip out of my clothes.
The hot water feels too good on my tired body, and I stand under the pulsating spray until it turns cold. By the time I climb out, get dressed, and comb through my hair, it’s been almost forty-five minutes. When I walk out of the bathroom and back into what will be the baby’s room, I come to a dead stop.
“What are you doing?” I ask, looking around.
In the short time I was gone, Lincoln has taped off the rest of the room and started on the first yellow wall.
“Do you like it?” he asks, turning to me with a giant smile.
For like the thousandth time today, my eyes fill with tears. But this time, I can’t hold them back.
32
Lincoln
“Why are you crying? I thought you loved this color.”
“I do.” Adley sniffs and uses the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“Is it the wrong shade? If you don’t like it, just say the word. I can have the entire room repainted by tomorrow.”
“It’s not the shade. I love the shade.”
“Is it the gray? It dried a little dark. I wondered if you’d still like it. I don’t mind changing it.”
“No.” Adley walks across the room and takes my hand, sending an electric current straight to my heart. “It’s not the gray. I love the gray. I love it all. I love that you stayed to help me and that you started on the yellow. But you know you didn’t have to do all of this, right?”
Her tears are falling faster, and my heart breaks inside my chest. I want nothing more than to hold her and comfort her, to calm whatever storm is brewing in her head, but despite our good moments today, I’m still not one-hundred-percent sure that’s what she wants. And her needs will always come before my own.
Reluctantly, I pull my hand from hers and shove them inside my pockets, because I’m not sure where her tears are coming from. For all I know, she’s about to give me a this isn’t going to work talk. But I felt a surge of love today like nothing I’ve ever felt before, so I’m going to try one more time.
“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to,” I tell her. “I want to take care of you. I want to help you. Whatever you need, I want to give you. Whether it’s a fresh coat of paint, a fancy crib from that overpriced furniture store you love, or a double chocolate fudge milkshake in the middle of the night. If it makes you happy, I want to give it to you.”
She nods and blinks, pushing out another wave of tears. “You make me happy. You’re going to be the best father this child could ask for.”
“Adley.” I take a step forward, seconds away from saying screw it and pulling her into my arms. “Please don’t cry, baby. It kills me to see you cry. What do you need? Is there something I can get you? Is it the hormones? Dammit, I knew I should’ve finished reading that pregnancy book.”
Her lips part. “You’re reading a pregnancy book?”
“Of course I am. I need to be prepared for this baby, and I know nothing about children. Like, nothing. I know even less about women’s hormones.”
“It’s not my hormones.”
“Okay, so it’s something else. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m going to need you to be a little more specific here. Please keep in mind that I’m a guy, and as much as I wish I could, I cannot read your mind.”
She laughs, and I mentally pat myself on the back. Laughing is way better than crying.
“I need you to hug me,” she says. “Can you do that?”
Can I? Can I hug her without letting my feelings spiral out of control? Hell no, but that’s not going to stop me. If the woman I love—the mother of my child—needs a hug, she’s getting a damn hug.
I take a step forward, and next thing I know, Adley throws herself at me. For the first time in two weeks, I feel an iota of peace.
Her fists clench against the back of my shirt, and I tighten my hold on her as she sobs against my chest.
Holding her in my arms is like coming home. It’s familiar and comfortable and perfect, and how in the hell am I supposed to let her go?
Crazy, Stupid Love Page 20