by Kelsie Rae
Without a word, I start measuring the baby’s heart, head circumference, and a few other critical measurements to confirm the infant is growing properly and won’t have any birth defects. Satisfied with the results, I snap a few screenshots then turn back to Anthony and Sway, who are still mesmerized.
“Everything looks great so far. Your baby is right on track.”
“Any health issues?” Anthony asks with bated breath.
“None. Would you like to know the gender?”
Sway looks over her shoulder at Anthony and waits for his two cents. After a quick, yet silent, conversation they nod in unison.
“Yeah,” Anthony answers with red-rimmed eyes while trying to hide his emotions with a dry cough. “I, uh, I think we would.”
It’s funny. Most moms connect with their unborn child long before the father does. Some say it’s because the mom has been preparing to become a parent since they were given dolls to play with, while the dads are thrown into the deep end of parenting during that first month of diaper duty.
But there are others out there who think of their future children for more than a fleeting moment. They’re the ones I catch whispering to their wives’ round stomachs. The ones who come to every appointment. The ones who have their video cameras in hand during the entire labor process in hopes of documenting every single second so they’ll never forget the high of becoming a father. Whether it’s the first or fifth time, they cherish the opportunity in the best way they can, and it’s incredible to witness.
Anthony is one of those dads. I can see it in his misty eyes. Hear it in his trembling voice. Hell, I can feel it in my bones.
And I’m jealous as hell.
My movements are jerky as I rotate the ultrasound wand and search for the right angle that will reveal the gender while attempting to get my shit together. I’m usually good at shoving aside my feelings and the memories that accompany them. But today, in this room, I’m seconds from losing it.
I should’ve had this moment too, but it was stolen from me.
What would our baby have been? A little boy? A little girl? It was too early to tell, but I’d give anything to know.
Clearing my throat, I blink away my unshed tears and focus on the monitor.
There.
“Do you see this?” I point to the screen. “These three little lines?”
They both lean a little closer to get a better look at the fuzzy black and white image in front of them.
“Yes?” Anthony answers after a few seconds, though it comes out like a question. “What do they mean?”
“They mean you’re having a baby girl.”
Sways eyes crinkle in the corners as she continues to stare at her baby’s blurry silhouette while covering her mouth with her hand. The tears flow freely now as Anthony rests his chin on her shoulder and beams at the monitor in front of him.
“Do you hear that, Swayze Girl?” he murmurs. “We’re gonna have a baby girl.”
Sway nods again, sniffing softly before mingling it with a breath of laughter.
“A baby girl, Sway. A healthy baby girl,” he repeats, though I’m not sure if he’s trying to grasp the concept himself or relay it to his wife.
“I just…I can’t believe it’s real,” she finally whispers in disbelief. “I never thought––”
“I know, Swayze Girl. I know,” Anthony chokes out, trying to maintain his composure. Still, the overwhelming sense of his gratitude and uncertainty is stifling, yet contagious too.
Pivoting in his arms, Sway grabs onto her husband and sobs. She tries to muffle her cries in his chest, but it’s no use. Her back heaves with shallow breaths, and her knuckles turn white at his sides.
The sound triggers a reaction so deep and painful that I’m nearly brought to my knees. Sway should’ve had this moment years ago. Anthony should’ve too.
Which means one thing. This moment…. It’s a miracle.
Yet all I feel right now is a gut-wrenching loss. Because I should’ve had this moment too.
With my wife.
But she’s gone.
And she’s never coming back.
Tears threaten to slip past my defenses as my arm hangs limply at my side when delicate fingers brush against the back of my hand. Surprised, I look down to find Marcy tangling her fingers with my own before she squeezes softly.
And I grab on for dear life, returning the gesture with another squeeze and a shaky breath. The sacrifice she’s willing to make for someone else is staggering. And even though she’s witnessing this moment, I’m not sure if she’ll ever fully understand the gravity of her sacrifice and how deeply grateful Anthony and Sway will forever be to her.
The room stays silent with the occasional quiet sob, sniffle, and stilted breath before Marcy breaks it with a gasp.
“Sway, come here,” she orders, scrambling to untangle our fingers. “She’s kicking.”
Sway is at Marcy’s side in the blink of an eye before Marcy reaches for Sway’s hand and pushes it into the goo on her stomach. “Right here.”
Cautiously, Anthony steps beside his wife. Then they wait.
And wait.
Brows furrowed, Marcy moves Sway’s hand to the opposite side of her stomach then encourages her to push a little harder.
Seconds later, Sway gasps. “I can feel her. Anthony. Come here. Put your fingers right here.” She replaces her hand with his. “Now, wait. She’s right here.”
His forehead wrinkles with concentration as he waits for his little girl to say hello. And again, I feel like I’m intruding but keep my feet planted in place.
After another few seconds, she must kick him because his entire face lights up like the Fourth of July. The triumphant grin reminds me of all the prideful dads at a sporting event. It brings a smile to the rest of our faces as Anthony whispers, “You gonna be a soccer player, Little Miss? Or maybe you’ll take after your mom and trip over your own feet.”
She smacks him in the shoulder. “Hey! Don’t you go spreading lies to our daughter, mister.”
“Lies?” he challenges.
Laughing, she kisses him on the cheek, and they continue their banter while taking turns feeling their little wiggle worm beneath their fingertips.
Marcy stays quiet, watching their interaction with a soft smile that makes my pulse race a little faster. She has no idea how crucial she is to their happiness, and I think it’s more genuine that way.
When a gentle knock raps against the door, our heads swivel in its direction before Tracey’s apologetic face comes into view. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but your next appointment is waiting, Dr. Bennett.”
Shit, I’d completely lost track of time.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I grimace. “I’ll be right there. Thanks, Trace.”
“Anytime.”
Turning back to Marcy, Anthony, and Sway, I say, “Let me print these screenshots for you to take home. I recorded the appointment, as well, so you’ll get a Blu-Ray too. You’ll be able to show off your little future soccer player kicking up a storm. Like I said before, everything looks great. Congratulations, you guys.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Bennett. For the ultrasound, for taking good care of Marcy, and for your patience, in general. I’m sorry if we took up too much of your time,” Sway apologizes.
“You didn’t. I’d stay here all day if I could. If you have any questions, though, don’t be afraid to give me a call.” Looking down at Marcy on the table, I grab a tissue and wipe the rest of the gel from her stomach before helping her sit up.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to fix it from lying down for so long.
When I catch myself staring at her, I reply, “Sure thing. I’ll, uh, I’ll text you later, okay?”
She nods while biting the inside of her cheek. “Okay.”
Ignoring the curious looks from Anthony and Sway, I lift my chin at them then head out the door in need of a stiff drink that’ll have to wait until tonight
.
16
Marcy
“Hey,” I say as I open my front door.
Ben’s hair is a little more mussed up than usual after his long day at work. His fingers run through it before he gives me a weathered smile.
“Hey.”
I open the door up the rest of the way and step aside. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.”
It’s still weird that we’ve been hanging out so much. It started out as a few meetups here and there, but this past week has been almost a nightly occurrence. Whether it’s at his house or mine, we’ve spent our evenings watching Netflix, talking about our day, and eating food, which I’ve learned he’s really good at making if he’s not too tired from a long day at work.
However, as I left his office after the ultrasound, I knew we’d be eating take-out tonight.
There was a shift in that exam room today, and I’m just not sure what it means.
For him.
Or for us.
“I ordered Thai food. I hope that’s okay?” I mention over my shoulder as I walk into the small family room. There’s a television hanging on the wall and a small sofa in front of it that Ben has gotten accustomed to over the past couple of weeks. Collapsing onto it, he rests his arms on his knees and answers, “Sounds great. It’s been a long day.”
“I can tell. Do you want a drink? I don’t think I have any beer left in the fridge, but I think I have some vodka and Jameson in the freezer.”
Rubbing his hand over his face, he mumbles, “Whiskey sounds good. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll be right back.”
When I return with his drink a few minutes later, Ben is staring off into the distance with worry lines etched around his kind eyes, and I’d do anything to make them disappear. I shuffle closer, praying he doesn’t notice the way I was studying him.
The ice clinks against the glass as I hand it to him.
“Thanks,” he mutters before bringing it to his lips.
“You doing okay?”
He shrugs. “Delivered a baby today with pneumonia. She’s in the NICU, but it’s touch and go right now.”
“She was born with pneumonia?”
He nods.
“I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“I’ve told you, Marce. Lots of things can go wrong in a pregnancy. Most of the time, it doesn’t, and everything goes smoothly, but sometimes….” Raising the glass, he takes another long swallow of the amber liquid.
“That…sucks,” I offer after a few seconds even though I know it doesn’t even begin to describe how terrible the situation is. I can’t imagine what the parents must be feeling right now. Carefully, I press my palm to my round stomach.
Please be healthy, I pray to no one in particular. I’ve never been overly religious, but I have always felt that someone is looking out for me and those in need. I just hope he or she is looking out for Anthony and Sway’s little baby too.
He looks up at me before cocking his head to the side. “Are you planning on just standing all night, or are you going to come sit next to me?”
I laugh, though it still feels a little forced before I take a seat beside him. As soon as my butt hits the cushion, a knock vibrates against the door. Laughing together, I stand back up, answer it, then bring the hot Thai food over to the coffee table.
“Bon appétit,” I tell him before taking a giant bite of chicken curry.
We eat in a comfortable silence until our bellies are full, and the alcohol has smoothed a few of the worry lines on Ben’s handsome face. His muscles have melted into the couch as I finish my last bite and catch him staring at me. Even though he knows he’s been caught, he doesn’t bother to look away, and the intensity in his gaze turns my stomach into knots. I try to ignore them, but it’s damn near impossible.
“Do you…want a refill?” I ask, lifting my chin at the empty tumbler in his hand.
“Sure. I’ll go get it, though.”
“I can get it––”
“I know you can. But despite how much you like to hide it, you’re pregnant, and I’m happy to pull my weight around here.” He disappears into the kitchen and comes back a few minutes later, nursing his glass as he studies me carefully from a few feet away.
Squirming from his attention, again, I mutter, “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Do I have curry on my face?” I wipe the side of my mouth with my thumb.
“No.” He chuckles. “You look perfect.”
My entire body freezes. “Oh.”
What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
“Thank you?”
“I wanted to uh…to talk to you about something.”
“Okay?” Reminding myself to breathe, I exhale and pat the cushion that’s still warm from him sitting on it. “I’m all ears.”
His long legs eat up the distance between us with ease. Then he sits back down, takes another swig of Jameson, and sets the glass down on the coffee table next to the styrofoam Thai containers. “I wanted you to know that I think you’re a saint.”
The nonchalance of his over-the-top comment makes me laugh until my cheeks are burning. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said you’re a saint, Marcy Holden,” he reiterates.
I cover my face and laugh even harder. “I think that whiskey is making you hallucinate. I am so far from a saint that it’s not even funny.”
“And I beg to differ,” he counters. “I didn’t entirely understand the why behind you becoming a surrogate even though you explained it to me. I know why you would on paper, but when I saw their faces today, their awe, it was incredible, Marce.”
“It’s not that big of a deal––”
“It’s a huge deal,” he corrects me before resting his hand on my knee. I’m not even sure if he notices that he’s touching me. But I do. I can feel the tips of his fingers through the thick material of my jeans. Every tiny flex. Every minor shift.
All of it.
My breath hitches as I meet his gaze.
“I didn’t get to have that moment with my wife, and it almost killed me. I know that even though our circumstances are different, Anthony and Sway probably didn’t expect to ever experience that moment either. I know they both probably grieved in their own ways when they found out about Sway’s condition and had to mourn the loss of the unborn children they didn’t believe they’d ever meet.” A tear slides down my cheek because I’d never really thought of it that way. Hastily, I wipe it away as he continues, “But today, I saw you give them that gift. And I guess I just wanted you to know that I’m proud of you. I’m in awe of you. And I’m so lucky that you think a broken guy like me is worth your time.”
Raising my hand, I cup the side of his face and pray he can hear my sincerity as I murmur, “You’re not broken, Ben.”
“I am, though.” He presses his cheek against me and closes his eyes, savoring my touch the same way I’m savoring the feel of his five o’clock shadow tickling my palm. “I’m so broken that most of my pieces are buried underground with my wife’s body.”
“It’s okay to let her keep a few of those pieces, Ben. The trick is to accept that some parts will always be missing and to make the most of what you have left.”
“And how would you recommend I do that?” His eyes open before his gaze drops down to my mouth that’s only a few inches away from his.
Heart racing, I try to form a reply, but I can’t think straight. My entire body is humming with awareness to the point that I’m not even sure I could sing the ABC’s right now, let alone come up with a logical response.
“Hey, Marcy?” he whispers, inching a little closer.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you now. Help me not overthink it, okay?”
My mouth pulls into a smile as I release a breathless laugh against his lips. “I’m not sure how to help you out in that regard.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of some way to distract me,” he quip
s before closing the last millimeter of distance between us. His mouth connects with mine like a puzzle piece clicking into place as he gently sucks my lower lip into his mouth before running his tongue along the seam of my lips. Opening up to him, I let our tongues tangle together and smile as the taste of whiskey explodes across my tongue.
Angling his head to the right, he continues making me dizzy with his kisses as his hand slides a few inches above my knee. My legs spread as if they have a mind of their own, and Ben catches on with ease. Unbuttoning my jeans, he towers over me and pushes my back into the cushions until I’m caught between couch cushions, the armrest, and a sexy doctor who obviously thinks the whole just friends thing is overrated.
And I couldn’t agree more.
These last few weeks have been the best kind of torture a girl could ever ask for, but I’m more than ready to take this to the next level and finally give in to this tempting man.
Running my hands beneath the hem of his shirt, Ben’s muscles bunch and flex under my palms as he removes my jeans, along with my underwear, and throws them over his shoulder with one goal in mind. I laugh as the scruff along his jaw tickles my neck before he continues his journey down my body and spreads my legs wide.
With a moan, I arch my back and squeeze my eyes shut as Ben’s mouth explores every single inch of me.
Every.
Single.
Inch.
My fingers tangle in his short hair, and my jaw drops open as he hits the perfect spot, his tongue swirling around the little bundle of nerves until an orgasm rushes through me like a damn tsunami.
Screaming at the top of my lungs, I drag him back up my body and fumble with the button on his jeans before using my foot to push them down to his knees until his thick cock springs forward.
“I need you inside me,” I whisper. My desperation is palpable as he lines us up and presses into me.
I’m panting into his neck as he gives me a second to adjust before slowly pulling out, then sliding right back in. His groan is the sweetest of sounds, making my soul sing as he picks up his pace and hits the perfect spot inside of me.
“Right there,” I breathe. “Right. There.”