Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Do you want to go and stand by Abigail?” Dr. Emmy asks and he doesn’t answer her because his feet are moving on their own. He stands by the table, watching Dr. Emmy turn off the lights. “Here we go,” she says cheerfully as she grabs the white bottle of gel and squeezes some on my stomach. I feel one of his hands hold the top of the table while the other one slips into mine.
“Does that hurt?” he asks, and I just shake my head.
“It’s just a gel,” I tell him, and his eyes are on Dr. Emmy. He watches her take the transducer and place it on my stomach.
“Now in here, you are going to be able to see your baby.” Dr. Emmy points at the black screen.
“Will that hurt it?” he asks when he sees her pushing down on my stomach to get a picture.
“Nothing I do will hurt the baby,” she reassures him and then smiles. “Tristan, meet your baby,” she says, pointing at the screen where you can see the baby just chilling.
“Oh my God,” he says, putting the hand on top of my head over his mouth. Dr. Emmy presses something on the machine and the sound of horses galloping fills the room. My eyes focus on him, watching him the whole time. My tears roll down my cheeks as I see the awe in his eyes. His whole face fills in a smile as he watches our child moving away in there.
“You hear that?” Dr. Emmy says looking at Tristan. “That is the sound of your baby’s heartbeat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TRISTAN
“You hear that?” Dr. Emmy says, looking at me as what sounds like horses running through the field fill the room. “That is the sound of your baby’s heartbeat.” I can’t help the tears that pour out of me. I can’t explain how love works. I can’t explain how a parent feels once they have a child. I can’t explain the sense of unwavering love I feel for this child. The same love I feel for Penelope, it was instant. I pick up my hand, holding Abigail’s, bringing it to my lips, secretly thanking her for giving me a child.
I watch the screen as my child does summersaults. “You have an active one,” Dr. Emmy says, and all I can do is stare at the screen. When she called me this morning, I was shocked. After she walked out of the house last night, I didn’t think I would hear from her.
I laid a lot on her. I bared my soul to her, things I had never told anyone before. Things I kept just for myself. Things I was afraid to share, but she had to know why I was so angry. “Look at his feet,” I say and then look at Abigail, “or her. Either way, I’m good.”
“Do you want to find out what you’re having?” Dr. Emmy asks. “I know you said you didn’t want to know.” She looks at Abigail, who is wiping away her own tears.
“I didn’t want to know because you weren’t here,” she tells me. “Secretly, I didn’t think it was right to find out without you here.”
“Thank you,” I say because all the fucking words are stuck in my throat. She thought about me while she was going through this.
“So we got a good shot,” Dr. Emmy states. “Do we want to know?”
“Whatever you want,” Abigail tells me, and I just shake my head.
“I don’t care as long as the baby is healthy. That is all that matters,” I admit to her.
“The baby is very healthy,” Dr. Emmy confirms.
“Okay,” Abigail says, “what are we having?”
I don’t even know, I’m holding my breath when Dr. Emmy starts to talk, “You are a having a very healthy baby boy.” Abigail gasps and all I can do is stand there with my mouth hanging open. A son. I’m having a son.
“Shit,” Abigail says, and I look at her, wondering if she’s disappointed it’s not a girl. “I hate when Dylan is right.”
“Okay, Tristan,” Dr. Emmy says. “Let’s show you your son.” She goes step by step as she shows me both legs and arms. At one point, I can swear he waves his hand at me. I don’t know how long we are in there, but I wish it could be longer.
Dr. Emmy grabs a white towel and cleans Abigail’s stomach off before cleaning the transducer in her hand. Abigail slips her hand out of mine as she pulls up her pants over her little baby bump. A baby bump I didn’t even know she had since she was wearing a sweater the last two times I’ve seen her.
Dr. Emmy presses a couple of buttons, and something shoots out from the machine. She gets up and hands me the long slip of white paper. “Here is a picture of your son.”