Family.
Now there was a word.
Fuck.
He needed air. To breathe. A pint. Although the surge of energy in his veins was headier than any line of coke or alcohol. Feeling rushed into his body, like pins and needles in his fingertips. The numbness he’d been feeling was suddenly gone.
“Here,” the doctor said, turning the screen. “Congratulations, it’s a boy.”
And there he was, wiggling around on the screen. A part of him in fuzzy black and white with a big fucking head and little feet and a hand in the air as if he was waving.
A part of him.
“Holy fuck, Will.” He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “We made that.” He couldn’t take his eyes off it as the doctor moved the probe-thing, changing the angle. “Doesn’t he get banged around in there?”
The thought of his baby, levitating in a water balloon, surrounded by hips and ribs. Like, if she banged into the kitchen counter, could she pop the damn thing?
The doctor grinned. “He’s pretty well protected. There’s plenty of amniotic fluid to absorb any pressure. I mean, we don’t recommend parachute-jumping or anything, but with all reasonable precautions, the baby is fine in there until he’s ready.”
She flicked the machine off and the sound died away. “I’ll give the two of you a moment to get cleaned up, and I’ll be outside when you are ready.” The doctor handed Willow some paper towels to wipe off the gel she’d applied to her stomach.
He turned his gaze to Willow’s bump as the door clicked shut. Somehow it was suddenly crystal clear. “I’ve been an idiot.” He took the paper towel from her and began to wipe her stomach gently. “We’re having a baby. And I have no clue why this is a surprise to me. I mean, intellectually I knew you were having a baby. But I didn’t quite get the concept that there would always be a we. We made a baby. Together. And he’s in there, floating around in funky liquid and connected to you. Like, everything you do keeps it alive. You are a walking life support system for Cletus.”
“We talked about no longer using Cletus.”
“I think we both know that I’m going to keep using Cletus But, it’s . . . it’s real circle-of-life shit. Like, the miracle of it. How it all happens.”
Willow grinned at him. “I think we both know how it happened.”
“I’m being serious, Will. You. Cletus. It’s a fucking miracle and I’ve been so stupid.” He dropped the paper towel into the bin and carefully fastened her jeans. Luke helped her sit on the edge of the bed before fixing her top.
Willow gripped his wrists. “Talk to me, Luke. Without the frantic realisation stuff.”
Luke took a breath. “I almost missed it. What this means. The we in it all. It wasn’t what either of us planned. But so far, we’ve done the right thing for him. And you. You’ve done all the hard work. Coming here. Growing him. I’m sorry I’ve done a shit job of stepping up. But no more.”
Her cheeks were warm to his touch as he cupped them. “I’m totally going to look after the two of you.” He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her gently. But gentle quickly flared into heated, until he realised her hands weren’t pulling closer, they were pushing him away. “What?” he asked, stepping back.
“You’re riding an ultrasound high. An emotional and clearly pivotal moment for you in the pregnancy. And in two hours, you’ll climb down from the adrenaline rush of this. You’ll likely regret kissing me and saying things like that to me, even though I hope you won’t. And I can’t rely on hope as a strategy. I’m not setting myself up for that.”
“Fuck. See, this is why I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a douche canoe, trying to keep my distance, yeah. But you were right, and I was wrong. And . . . wait . . . why are you looking at me like that?”
Willow wriggled forward and dropped down off the bed. “It makes me so incredibly happy that you are excited, finally, about our son’s arrival. I’m sure endorphins are at an all-time high. And I’m relieved, because if what you are saying now is true, then our son won’t ever have to worry about you being there for him. But don’t conflate your feelings about him with your feelings for me, because you’ve been totally clear. We’re scratching an itch while seeing out the contract. And, honestly, I don’t want you to suddenly acknowledge feelings for me because you’ve realised I’m a great incubator for your child. Because that’s not romantic.”
“Jesus, Willow. I mean every word. And it’s not just because you’re having my child.” He sighed and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. “But I see your point that it could look like that, I guess.”
She smiled softly. “It does look like that. But for the record, I wish it was true.”
Luke slid his hand around her neck and gently tugged her towards him until she was so close, she had to look up at him, her whiskey-coloured eyes focused on him, her pretty pink lips ever so slightly open. It would be so easy to kiss her again. To slide his tongue to hers, to taste her again. Instead, he ran his thumb along her cheek.
“I’m going to prove it to you, Will. But you’ve got to let me.”
Willow put her hand over his. “Start tomorrow. Today, let’s just celebrate that this little guy is perfect.”
“Want to go out for dinner? Get dressed up? Go somewhere nice?”
“If I get dressed up, there is no way we are hiding this any longer.”
Luke nodded. “Then we better get ready early, so you have time to take a thousand pictures of us and post the best one before we go out.”
Willow ran her hand over her stomach as she looked in the mirror. The emerald green dress hugged every curve, even her bump. And there was a slot on her social media plan for a baby announcement. Words that had been written under false pretences. Hopeful words cobbled together from a myriad of emotions into something clinically . . . safe.
We. Us. Together. Our family.
A comment Luke had made when she’d asked him to return to the airport to film her arrival.
Doesn’t it bother you that most of that is fake?
The words she’d written hit differently, now the time was really here.
They felt hollow. Lacking in substance.
Like the letters could collapse in on themselves and they’d still make more sense than the sentences she’d laboured over.
Kinda like Luke’s reaction to the ultrasound earlier. Buoyed by some enormous epiphany, he’d driven them home in the van full of excitement for what it meant for the two of them.
And she wasn’t buying it.
Oh, she wanted to. When she’d showered, she’d imagined what it would feel like for him to join her in there. To place his hands on her bump and love her slowly and thoroughly. And it had been his face she’d imagined as she’d carefully applied her makeup, every step, including contour and fake lashes.
For a fraction of a second, she hadn’t recognised herself.
Fake relationship, fake lashes, fake posts.
She didn’t like the way the word irritated like a stone she couldn’t get out of her shoe.
Fake.
She pulled on her heels. Strappy. Like her dress that she’d steamed in the bathroom as she showered to help the creases drop out of the stretchy material.