Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“It’s true. When a mom goes through hell during pregnancy and handles it as well as you have, the baby can handle anything, you know?”
I let out a sad but genuine laugh into his shirt and try to calm myself down as he rubs my back.
I peek up at him and smile as his lips touch mine.
“Everything’s behind us,” he adds.
I feel the need to remind him, “There’s good behind us too, isn’t there?”
“So much good,” he says and then kisses me again before splaying his hand on my belly. “And so much more to come.”
Epilogue
Kat
Little blips, they come and go,
In rhythm and in time.
Black lines that paint a picture,
And soft lullabies in rhyme.
You’re everything, and the reason I need,
To love and to forgive.
My only wish is to keep you safe,
For as long as I shall live.
Seeing that little blip makes it real. “I can see his heartbeat.”
“You’re still convinced it’s a boy?” Evan says although he doesn’t take his eyes off the monitor. A trace of a smile is on his lips and it only grows when the little one moves.
“We’ll find out soon,” I tell him with a little more glee in my voice.
“Soon as in right now,” the doctor comments, breaking up our little moment. With Evan to my right, I hold his hand as I lie back on the white paper, hearing it rustle under me. Dr. Harmony holds the wand right above my belly button. My belly is covered in clear gel and there’s more than a little bump now that I’m twenty weeks along.
I’m quiet as the sound of a steady heartbeat comes through the speaker. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. The only thing that distracts me for a moment is Evan placing his second hand over our joined one.
“Our little baby,” he whispers in awe.
“Your little boy,” the doctor corrects him, pointing to the screen. She keeps the wand there for a moment, tapping on the keyboard to take photos before removing the wand and the soft, rhythmic heartbeats are gone. But I heard them, I heard that steady heartbeat and that sound will stay with me forever.
“He’s healthy?” Evan questions and my heart swells.
“Perfectly healthy,” Dr. Harmony says as she wipes down the equipment and tosses the paper towels into the trash.
“I’ll be back in just a bit with some pictures for you two.” The young blond doctor has a pretty smile; it’s one that reaches her eyes.
“Thank you,” Evan and I say in unison.
“A boy,” I murmur to him before he cuts me off with a kiss.
“We’re going to have a son,” Evan says, running a hand down his face. “It’s real.”
“Does it feel real to you now?”
Evan takes my hand again and kisses my knuckles before nodding his head.
My gaze moves from Evan to the screen. The little heart is beating in a perfect rhythm.
“I have a feeling it’s going to be really, really good,” I tell him and get a little choked up.
“It is,” Evan says and kisses my hand once more. “I know it is.”
Evan
The morning brings a bright light,
Hope and laughter too.
And with time comes a new love,
Faded dreams become anew.
Just remember to hold tight,
And fight for what you love.
For our lost ones will watch over,
And keep us safe from up above.
“We should name him Henry,” Kat suggests as we walk into the house. The homes near the Manhattan Bridge are an expensive area to live, but the park is close, and this school district is where Kat wants to live for our little one, so how could I say no?
She tosses the keys onto the side table, walking past a row of cardboard boxes and a stack of dishes I brought back from the old place last night. “I’ve thought a lot about it. And I think we should.”
“Henry.” I say my father’s name and a swell of unexpected emotion catches me off guard. I slip the jacket off my shoulders and move to busy myself, opening the window in the dining room and ignoring the look Kat gives me.
“I know it hasn’t been a long time since he passed,” Kat says. “It feels like it was yesterday.”
She holds her swollen abdomen and drags out the head chair in the dining room. At least this room is mostly put together. Kat’s nesting has her up all hours and doing shit she shouldn’t do. Like carrying heavy boxes and climbing on the furniture to hang curtains. She’s ever the stubborn one.
“I wish he were here with us,” she murmurs and gets teary eyed; she’s been crying a lot more recently, probably due to the third trimester pregnancy hormones. “But we can give him this, you know?”
Her voice is tight with emotion and I nod my head, understanding what she’s saying but not wanting to voice it.
The wind blows through the house. It’s warm for late March. The breeze gently moves the napkins on the table so I’m quick to tuck them into the holder and attempt to form a response. I miss my father. More than I ever could have imagined.