Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
She nodded. “It sure is. And those loud thumps? That’s her dancing in there.”
He rubbed his jaw, eyes wide in amazement.
“She’s okay?” I asked the nurse, feeling another kick. My mind was spinning. I'd already started grieving her, and yet there she was, kicking. I wanted to burst into tears.
“We’ll monitor you for another half hour or so,” the nurse told me as she typed on her tablet. “But her heart rate looks great, and her having an immediate response to the machines is reassuring.”
That wasn’t enough for me, I wanted to say. I needed to see her. I needed to see her moving on the ultrasound. But I stayed quiet, somehow unable to advocate for myself when it used to be one of my biggest strengths.
“We’ll need an ultrasound,” Kane spoke from beside me, his voice no longer as carefree as it had been.
The nurse glanced up. “If there’s cause for concern, certainly, we’d do one. But this is a low-risk pregnancy, and everything looks great, so there’s no need.”
“There is a need. For me. For her.” Kane nodded to me. His voice made it clear that this was not up for debate.
The nurse looked between us, obviously contemplating. Then she nodded. “I understand. It’s not policy, but I’ll pull some strings, talk to your doctor.” She looked at my chart. “I know her; she’ll be fine with authorizing it.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I was talking to Kane more than her, but she nodded then left.
Kane kissed my head. There was a steady beat in the background, punctuated by a thump here and there when she decided to kick.
“She’s dramatic, it seems,” I said dryly, somewhat embarrassed at how quickly I was ready to spiral and also somewhat shell-shocked at how close it had all come to falling apart. It felt so fragile. This life.
Kane’s eyes were glued to the monitor. “Wonder who she gets that from,” he muttered.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not the one who jumps over things for a living.”
He rubbed my stomach. “She’s gonna give me a run for my money. I can already tell, Chef.”
Our banter seemed comfortable, almost familiar.
I looked at him, took in his profile, his gaze still centered on the fluctuating numbers reporting her heartbeat.
I opened my mouth to say something, but the nurse came back in.
“We’ll get you to the ultrasound room now,” she said.
And the moment was gone.
It was time to see our daughter.
“She’s perfect,” the ultrasound tech said.
I didn’t know if it was because they were just kind, if they knew who Kane was or had sensed my hysteria.
It didn’t matter. We were staring at our daughter. I wasn’t at this visit alone, wasn’t staring at a black and white image feeling utterly numb.
Kane’s hand was in mine, and his mouth was open in slack-jawed wonder. Tears stained his cheeks, and he didn’t even try to hide them.
As she tended to do when the ultrasound wand was near her, the baby kicked and jumped.
“Holy fuck!” Kane yelled, obviously not feeling pressured to speak in soft whispers because of the atmosphere like I had.
He squeezed my hand. “Do you see that, Chef?” He was still speaking way too loudly. “She’s going to be an athlete.”
I shook my head, smiling apologetically at my doctor, but she was grinning too.
“She’s an active one, that’s for sure,” she agreed as she squinted at the screen, making a series of clicks. “She’s measuring about a week ahead, weight looks to be six pounds eight ounces already.”
“Six pounds!” Kane shouted again. “Jesus, how is she going to fit, getting out of there?” He looked in my general crotch area.
My cheeks flamed even though I’d been wondering the same thing.
“Nature is a wonderful thing, Mr. Rhodes,” my doctor said with a good-natured smile. “I’m glad you got to see your daughter.”
Kane’s shit-eating grin disappeared, his expression suddenly serious. Reverent. He brought my fingers to his lips.
“Me too, Doc,” he murmured. “Best moment of my life right here.”
I fought tears of my own.
“Just wait until you hold her in your arms,” my doctor said.
“I’ll never be putting her down,” he vowed.
“Thank you for being so calm,” I said to Kane as we drove home.
He was holding the steering wheel with the ultrasound photo clutched against his hand, as if he were afraid to let it go.
“Calm?” he repeated, looking from the road to me. “I wasn’t calm, Chef. I was two seconds away from a goddamn heart attack. I’ve never been more afraid in my goddamn life.”
I gaped at him. “But you were so composed.”
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Because you needed me to be composed. You needed a lighthouse in the storm.”
My mouth dropped open. A lighthouse in the storm. That’s exactly what Kane was for me. Even though I knew he was still mad at me. Even though nothing was resolved. He’d seen me unraveling, and he hadn’t hesitated to hold me together.