by Amanda Aksel
12
D R. ELLIS SQUEEZES A TUBE of what looks like baby-blue lube over my stomach. I wince and shiver. “That’s cold!”
“Sorry, love. Just give it a second.” Dr. Ellis smears the gel over my stomach with the attached probe. Mick better not sneak back in and see this. I’m not at all ready to tell him. I’m hardly ready to know myself.
“Is this your first child?” she asks.
“No. I mean yes. I mean . . . I don’t know what I mean.”
She smiles. “It’s all right. Just try to relax.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a quick moment. “I just found out. I’m not even sure what I want to do about it yet.”
“I see. Well, that’s a big decision. Up to you, of course. Have you told the father yet?” she asks.
The father? It sounds so distant. Unemotional. And it might be if “the father” wasn’t wandering the halls of this hospital. “Not yet. Like I said, I just found out.”
She nods without an ounce of judgment on her face, which is good. I’m judging myself enough as it is. “I understand. Please let me know if you have any questions about your options, okay?” I have options, huh? Then why doesn’t it feel like it? “Oh, you hear that?”
A whooshing, beating sound echoes from the machine. “Yeah, what is that?”
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat. You see, right here.” She points to a spec on the screen that’s barely visible. “Your baby sounds very healthy.”
Outside of the whooshing heartbeat, all I can hear is the doctor saying, Your baby. Is this my baby? I mean, I know it’s mine . . . but is it mine to keep?
Dr. Ellis pulls the probe away and wipes the gunk off my skin with a few tissues. “Everything looks good. By my calculations, your due date will be the twenty-first of June.” Well, that will make for an interesting summer. “I’ll check you again tomorrow before you leave, okay?”
I lower my shirt. “Sure.” If I hear that tiny little heartbeat again, it’s going to be impossible to do anything else but keep the baby. My baby.
I lie back in the bed, trying to make myself as comfortable as I possibly can in this situation. How the hell did I get here? How did my dad have a heart attack? How did I end up pregnant? How did Mick end up being my dad’s doctor and my baby’s father? There it goes again—my baby! I clench the sheets in my fists, wanting to scream or cry or run out of here screaming and crying but—
“I got something for you.” Mick pops his head in carrying a brown paper bag.
“Hey,” I say, feeling my gut twist into a bundle of nerves. Before, the whole baby thing was just two lines on a pee stick. Now it’s a heartbeat. And it’s Mick. The guy I got off the wagon for. Looking at his handsome face, I don’t think I can completely blame myself. What is it about a hot man in a white coat? Who knew I had a thing for doctors?
He sets the bag down on the tray table. “I got you the best made-from-scratch chicken soup in the city.”
I wrinkle my brow. “Are you talking about the cafeteria?”
He laughs and those adorable dimples are clear as day. Would the baby have his dimples? That would be so freaking cute! “No, the cafeteria is better than you think, but it’s got nothing on this.”
I sit up and he wheels the tray table over, setting down a bowl of piping-hot soup and a spoon. My stomach grumbles. Man, I really am hungry. “Smells good. Thank you, Mick.” Okay, so he’s attentive and thoughtful—those are good fatherly traits.
He takes a seat and opens up his own bowl of soup. “My pleasure.” Those words bring me right back to when I met him. Even when he says the word casually, it sounds so . . . seductive. Maybe it’s in my head.
“How’s my dad?” I ask before blowing on a spoonful of soup.
“Your dad’s doing well. He’s already questioning everything and negotiating his release time.”
I chuckle. “Oh, yeah. That’s him. Don’t let him throw you. He just likes to see how far he can push it. He respects boundaries, though. Believe me, he has a lot of them.” I have no idea why I just told him all of that.
“Luckily when it comes to post-op, there are very strict rules. And as much as he hates it, I’m the boss.” He takes a slurp of his soup. Hmm, a man who can handle my dad is definitely a plus.
“I just wish I could see him.” I tip my spoon and watch the steaming soup drop back into the bowl. Sometimes a girl just needs her dad.
Mick lowers his bowl and leans forward resting his elbows on his knees. “How about we make a deal?”
I narrow my eyes. “What kind of deal?”
“You finish all of that delicious soup, and I’ll take you to visit your dad for a little while.”
“Really? I can see him?” That’s great news. I thought I was going to die in the hospital bed tonight.
“You’ll have to travel by wheelchair, but yes, you can see him.”
“If I eat this?” I ask, pointing to the bowl.
“That’s right. You need to build up your strength if you . . .” His mouth parts but nothing else comes out.
“If I what?” My heart practically leaps in my throat. Does he already know? Did he weasel his way into my chart or something? He and Dr. Claude did seem kinda chummy.
“If you’re going to spend the next week in a hospital visiting your dad.”
“Right.” Whew! That was close. I sip my soup, tasting the fresh thyme. He was right. This soup is delicious. “You know what?”
Mick looks up at me. “What?”
“Of all the doctors I’ve ever had, you have the best bedside manner.”
His lips curl up in a modest smile. “Thank you.”
“Did you always want to be a doctor?” I ask.
He nods like he’s considering his answer. “When I was a kid I wanted to be a veterinarian and help little dogs and cats and small animals.” And he has a soft spot for animals? This guy just gets better and better.
“So why didn’t you?”
“The older I got, the more I wanted to explore the human body.” That makes sense. He was definitely exploring my body that night after the wedding. “I just became fascinated with the heart, practically fanatic about it. And that was it.”
I’ve only heard him talk about the heart a couple of times, but every time his whole demeanor changes. It’s like he’s talking about something so much bigger than the organ that pumps blood through our veins and keeps us going, even when we feel like it’s broken. “Are you still fascinated with it?”
“More like enchanted.”
I suck in a deep, enchanted breath myself. Maybe I was right about him. Could he be the only one I’ve ever been right about my whole life? Mick gives me the same look he did across the table at the rehearsal dinner, and I wonder how obvious my lovesick gaze is right now.
“Are you going to eat your soup?” he asks and the world comes crashing back.
The soup is easy to finish. Some of the best that I’ve ever had. The only meal more satisfying is mac and cheese or grilled cheese. Pretty much anything with melted cheese. “Done!” I say, grinning. Now I can see my dad.
Mick gets up and peeks into my bowl. “Okay, a deal’s a deal.” He steps out of the room, and I quickly run my fingers through my hair. I must look like a total wreck right now. But if he’s gonna be around for the birth, assuming I decide to keep the baby, then he’s gonna see me much worse.
“Your chariot awaits.” Mick pushes a wheelchair over to my bed and lends his hand. I pause for a moment before taking it. But once I do, that same sensation shoots through my body, the one I felt when he helped unbutton my dress that first night in New York. I like him just as much as I did the morning he left, maybe even more given the recent events.
I sit in the chair and glance up at him, looking all foxy with his stethoscope around his neck. He kneels down in front of me, almost like he’s about to propose. My mind gets completely carried away by the thought, and my heart leaps around my chest.
“Hey, Beau,” he s
ays.
“Yeah.”
“I wish you were here under different circumstances, but I’m glad you’re here.” Does that mean what I think it means? That he felt something from our time together too?
I gaze into his eyes and try to read his mind. “Me too.”
As he stands up, his stethoscope slides off his shoulders and I catch it in my hand. “Got it,” I say.
“Thanks.” Mick reaches for it.
“This is a lot heavier than it looks. Can I try it?”
“Sure,” he says.
I stick the ends in my ears and hear the booming sound of my finger rubbing against the end of the scope. I shift the earpieces. “It’s not as comfortable as it looks either.”
He chuckles. “You get used to it.”
I take the other end and place it over the left side of my chest beneath my collarbone. “Like this?”
Mick puts his hand over mine and moves the piece down my chest. It’s just the scope touching my skin but it feels like doctor foreplay. I hear my heartbeat speed up the lower it goes. “I can hear it,” I say. The sound of air moving in and out of my lungs becomes part of the melody of my heartbeat. I listen for a moment, taking in the sound that Mick inspired. “It’s kind of crazy listening to your own heartbeat, isn’t it?”
“What does it sound like?” he asks.
“Duh-dunk, duh-dunk, duh-dunk.” I blush at my poor rendition.
He laughs and takes the scope from my chest. “Here, listen to mine.”
I close my eyes and smile, remembering this sound from New York when I laid on his chest. His heartbeat seems a little fast, like mine. But deeper, bolder, like a Japanese taiko drum. I guess this is the sound that I inspire.
“What does it sound like?” he asks.
“Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom.” I make my voice deeper. It sounds silly, even with my voice muffled from the stethoscope.
He takes the earpieces out of my ears and places them in his. Without a word, he finds that same spot, low on my chest and listens for a moment. I can feel my pulse quicken a little more, and I’m nervous that he now knows for a fact that he makes my heart race. After a few long moments, he takes the earpieces out and swings the stethoscope around his neck. “It’s beautiful. Your heartbeat.”
“I’m sure you say that to all the women in wheelchairs.”
He shakes his head, keeping a steady gaze on me. “Actually, I don’t.”
Mick wheels me down the hall and into the elevator. It’s not exactly the same as the other times we ended up on an elevator together. Now, instead of me wearing a designer dress and stunning stilettos, I’m sitting in a wheelchair in day-old clothes. And we’re not heading to our five-star hotel suite, we’re going to see my dad who’s just had surgery. So not sexy.
But there’s definitely something in the air. Something electrifying.
When we enter my dad’s room, none of it matters. Dad’s here. Alive and safe. “Daddy,” I say smiling, feeling tears begin to surface. He looks like hell hooked up to all those tubes, wearing a hospital gown, and paler than I’ve ever seen him. Literally ever.
“Hey, sunshine.” He smiles and extends his hand toward me. “Thank you for coming all this way to see me. You’re the first person I wanted to see when I woke up. Instead, I saw this McDreamy-looking doctor.”
I look back at Mick, whose cheeks have flushed at my dad’s joke. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“So, what happened to you? Why are they making you stay overnight for dehydration?” I guess he hates it as much as I do. But they’re not keeping me because of dehydration.
“I think they just want to rule out a few things. You gotta love British healthcare,” I say.
“True, back home they’d give you an aspirin and tell you to walk it off.” I don’t know if I’d go that far but if he’s satisfied with my answer then that’s all the better for me.
“Enough about me, Dad. How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Like I got caught in the middle of an elephant stampede. But I’ll be better and out of here in no time. Won’t I, Doc?”
Mick nods and I glance behind him as a pair walk into the room, knocking on the door.
“Can we come in?” Drew asks, in his usual jeans and leather jacket.
“Drew!” Mick calls and opens his arms.
“Kate!” I say just as she comes in behind him. She rushes over and hugs me as best she can with me in my wheelchair. Her hair smells like the cold air outside, just another reminder that I’m not in La-La Land anymore. “You guys made it.”
She smiles at me, then looks at my dad. “How are you doing, David?”
“Been better,” he says, then looks over at Drew. “Why is your husband hugging my doctor?”
Kate laughs. “They’re brothers.”
My dad’s eyes widen. “You mean to tell me that your brother-in-law is my surgeon?”
“Yep.”
“It really is a small fucking world, isn’t it?”
If I keep this baby, he has no idea how much smaller it’s going to get.
The nurse walks in and checks my dad’s vitals. “I’m sorry but visiting hours will be over in a few minutes.”
I look at the nurse, then to Mick. “I can stay, right? I’m his daughter.”
“No, sunshine,” my dad starts, “you need to get some rest. You can come see me in the morning.”
“Are you sure? I’d much rather stay with you,” I say, squeezing his hand.
“I’m just gonna sleep. You need a good night’s rest too.” I don’t think my dad’s ever uttered the words good night’s rest. He’s certainly never had one.
“Come on, Beau. I’ll take you back.” Kate backs the chair away, and I wave bye to my dad. “I’ll find you later,” she says to her husband, leaving him with a kiss. No doubt it’s meant to be a casual good-bye kiss, but it looks more like a savoring-his-mouth kiss. Man, I miss kissing. I look up at Mick’s lips, remembering that hot smooch we shared in the hallway after the wedding reception. It’s like we couldn’t kiss each other hard enough or deep enough. A tingle runs down my spine, and I feel my body respond. But then Kate wheels me away and asks how I’m doing, and all of my warm and fuzzies disappear. She helps me into bed even though I tell her that I don’t need it.
“Why are they keeping you overnight?” she asks, looking confused. “Are they worried something else is going on?”
Oh yeah, something else is definitely going on and now is the time to confess. I bite my lower lip. “Okay, I need to tell you something but I need you to swear that you will not say anything. To anyone. Not even Drew. Especially not Drew.”
Now she looks really worried. “What? Why?”
“Do you swear?” I urge a little more.
“Yes, I swear. What is it?”
I take a deep breath. Kate’s the first person from my real life who will know the truth. About everything. “The reason they want me to stay overnight is because I’m pregnant.”
Her eyes go wide, and she gasps. “You are? How? You’ve been on a sex sabbatical. Whose is it?”
Now here’s the part where I might lose my chicken soup. “This is why you can’t tell Drew.” She gives me a severe look. “It’s Mick’s.”
“Mick!” she shouts.
“Shh! Lower your voice.”
“What—how—when did you have sex with Mick?”
I can’t even say it, but by the look in my eyes, she’s figured it out.
“At the wedding?” she asks.
“Not at the wedding, but, yeah, when we were in New York for your wedding.” And to think I almost got away with it. If only I hadn’t gotten pregnant, the whole thing would’ve just been a sweet and sexy memory. A secret between Mick and me forever.
She swats my arm. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“Ouch! No, I wanted to forget it happened.” I say soothing the tiny sting on my arm.
“Why? Was it awful?” I don’t think she’s pissed that I did it. I think she’s p
issed I didn’t share the details.
I take in a deep breath. “No, it was the opposite of awful.”
“Does he know?” Kate hops up on the bed and sits cross-legged.
I shake my head. “No. I literally got a positive pregnancy test right before Suzanne called about my dad. I was going to call you.”
Kate blinks her eyes. “Holy shit, this is a lot. And you didn’t know that Mick was your dad’s doctor either, right?”
“No. It’s crazy.”
“Yeah, no wonder you fainted. So, what are you going to do?” She’s not asking me how I’m going to raise a baby. She’s asking me if I’m going to keep it.
“I don’t know.” And I really don’t. I have no idea what the best thing is for me, for this baby, or for Mick.
“Well, you are going to tell him, right? I mean, you’re here so you have to.” Kate clearly doesn’t want to keep this secret any more than I do.
“I don’t want to say anything until I know what I want to do.” And that’s my choice!
“What? Beau! You want me to keep this from the love of my life, who happens to be this baby’s uncle?” Well, when you put it like that . . .
“The baby isn’t real yet, he doesn’t have an uncle.” The moment the words come out of my mouth, they feel cold. What kind of person says that? Maybe I’m not ready to be someone’s mother.
Kate narrows her eyes. “Why did you call the baby a he? Do you know what it is already?”
“No, I just—I don’t know why I said that. It’s way too early to tell anyway. I’m barely eight weeks.”
Kate’s eyes turn pink and glossy. Is she going to cry? “Beau,” she starts softly, “you’re eight weeks pregnant. That means the baby will be born . . .”
“June twenty-first. That’s the due date.”
“Beau, this could work. Maybe this is the thing you’ve been waiting for. I know that you might not want to face that this baby is real, but it’s real. Just promise me you’ll talk to Mick. Soon.”