Scooting closer to me, he wraps his arm around my neck and pulls me into him as I mourn his loss as if it’s my own.
“I’m just…I’m so sorry.” I soak up his warmth and close my eyes, simply breathing him in and cherishing this moment because there are no guarantees of tomorrow. And that’s terrifying.
“I am too.” His chest rumbles. “Krista spent years telling me that Kate would want me to be happy, and do you want to know a secret?”
“What’s that?” I whisper.
“You make me happy. In a way, I almost wonder if Kate sent you to me so that I would finally realize I hadn’t been living. I was wasting my precious time on this earth by living in the past instead of looking toward the future.”
He’s not the only one who was stuck in pause mode. As I look back at my life before getting pregnant, I want to kick myself. I was afraid to go after what I wanted because I was afraid I wouldn’t be accepted.
Playing with the wisps of dark hair on Sadie’s head, I admit, “I’m not sure how much I was really living before I met you, either. I guess I should thank Kate for that too.”
“She would’ve liked that and probably would’ve never let you live it down, either,” he adds with a crooked smirk before sobering slightly and dropping a kiss to the top of my head. “I really want my future to be with you, Marcy.”
“I want my future to be with you too.”
28
Marcy
Two weeks later
“Why, hello, Dr. Bennett,” I say in a sultry voice as he opens the door in his office for my thirty-five-week appointment. Technically, I missed last week because of a photo shoot, so Ben asked me to start coming weekly.
“Hello, Ms. Holden,” he replies in an equally over-the-top porn star voice. I revel in our banter. “How are you feeling today? Need me to…check anything?” His eyes fill with heat as I lose a bit of my earlier bravado.
“Actually, I’ve been feeling kind of crappy.”
Concerned, he wiggles the mouse and scans my chart, then grabs the doppler. “What kind of crappy?”
“I dunno? Just a nasty headache and some dizziness.”
“Have you been feeling Little Miss move like normal?”
“I think so? Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Okay, let’s do a quick check and make sure everything is still going smoothly.” Lifting my gray T-shirt up, he turns on the doppler gadget so he can listen to the baby’s heartbeat and gets to work. After finding the heart rate of Little Miss, Ben monitors the rhythm for a few seconds, then puts the doppler down and offers his hand to help me sit back up. “Let’s listen to your heart. Breathe deep for me, okay?”
“Okay.” The metal from his stethoscope is cold as it presses against my upper chest. Inhale. Hold it for a couple of seconds. Exhale. I continue the pattern while he moves the circular piece of metal from my front to my back.
As if I’m a riddle he can’t quite figure out, he warily presses the call button on the wall.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer me.
Tracey’s head pops through the doorway. “Hey! What do you need?”
“Are the results from Marcy’s urine test from today in her chart?” Ben demands.
Cocking her head to the side, she thinks for a second before nodding. “Yeah. I just put them in.”
“Okay, thanks,” Ben replies coolly.
“Anything else?”
He shakes his head. “No. Thanks, Trace.”
“Yup.”
Then she disappears and leaves us alone again.
His forehead is wrinkled as he scrolls through the electronic record and studies whatever’s on the screen.
“Is something wrong with my pee?” I ask.
“No. Your protein levels are a little elevated. We’ll just need to keep an eye on it.”
“Okay.”
“I think we should draw some blood to check on a few things,” he decides.
“Ben, I hate needles and would prefer to keep them away from my body for as long as possible. Please? I promise I’m fine. I just have a headache, and I’m pretty sure that’s normal when you’re pregnant and are running on no sleep.”
“Have you not been sleeping well?”
“Oh, so you haven’t felt me tossing and turning all night?” I quip, my voice laced with sarcasm.
“Good point. Still, I think––”
“I’m fine, Ben. Seriously. I shouldn’t have brought it up, especially if I knew you were going to make me get my blood drawn. And now that I think about it, I’ve also been staring at a computer screen all day because I’ve been editing the pictures from our trip. That usually brings on a headache if I do it for too long.”
Hesitating, he checks my records another time, then turns to me. “Have you had any pain in your side? Any vomiting?”
“Nope.”
“Peeing less than normal?”
I laugh. “What’s a normal amount?”
“Marce,” he groans. “You know what I mean. Just answer the question.”
“I haven’t noticed any difference with my peeing amount, which is something I never thought I’d have to say out loud, by the way. I’ll go home. Take some Tylenol. Take a nap. And I’m sure I’ll feel much better. Would that make you happy?”
His arms are crossed over his chest as he releases a wary sigh. There’s a moment of hesitation before he comes over and brushes a kiss against my forehead. “Keep your phone by you. If it gets worse or you have any of the symptoms I just asked you about, I need you to call me immediately. Understand?”
“Yes, Dr. Bennett. I’ll call you if there are any changes.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
Eyes narrowing, he mutters, “Go get some rest. I’ll pick up take out on the way home.”
Home. My face stretches into a shameless grin.
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too, Marce.”
I don’t feel better. I feel pretty crappy, actually. My back is aching. My neck is tight. And I feel like an elephant is sitting on my head. Stomach rumbling like a bottle of soda that’s been shaken for ten minutes, I shove a pillow under it and release a slow breath.
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
The front door opens, and I roll onto my side on the couch in the front room of his house. I’ve been staying here pretty regularly and have only gone home to grab a change of clothes or to edit pictures. And even editing has become a rare event on my desktop. I’ve been using my laptop at his house instead.
After my appointment, I followed my doctor’s orders and went home, popped a couple of Tylenol, then fell asleep on the couch while watching The Office reruns on Netflix. But now that I’m awake again, I can tell that this isn’t my average editing and lack-of-sleep headache. This is so much worse. Still, if I could prevent a needle from being jabbed into my arm today, I’ll take it as a win.
“Hey,” I greet Ben, forcing a smile while I watch him unzip his jacket.