Two Months Later

 

“Are you ready for this?” I can tell he’s so excited to show me the big reveal. Truthfully, he should be. The hours Connor has been putting into even more renovations on this place to get it ready for the baby has been a real testament to what a great dad he’ll be.

“I’m ready,” I try to sound excited. It’s not that I don’t care or am ungrateful for all the time and effort he’s given to transform the loft, I’ve just been feeling down lately.

“Okay,” he tugs my hand and I follow him up the stairs. “Let’s just walk up these expertly crafted stairs with this beautiful handmade banister,” he sweeps his hand toward the project that’s definitely made the biggest difference in my life so far. Now that I’m halfway through this pregnancy and my tummy popped, I can’t even imagine climbing up and down the ladder that once led to the sprawling loft. With a baby in our future, there was just no way we could keep things the same. Some people baby proof their houses by getting plastic covers for all the light sockets, we got stairs.

I trudge up behind him, feeling heavier than I used to. I know I still have a long way to go before I’m due, but this all feels so real now. My body feels fuller and, from time to time, I can feel little flutters inside as the baby moves around. For the first few months the only proof I seemed to have of being pregnant was my sudden sensitivity to the smell of pork being cooked and being exhausted all the time. I’m glad the pork thing passed, because I missed my bacon. Now, with my belly growing rounder, this all feels concrete. I can’t wait to meet my little bub.

“I hope you’re prepared to be amazed,” Connor leads me down the hall he constructed in front of the rooms he segmented off from the once massive, open loft.

We discussed a ton of ways to put a child’s nursery in this place, but always kept coming back to this solution. I didn’t want to be sleeping on different floors from the baby, and having the little one in our room would only be a temporary solution. Even though we both loved the wide expanse that the loft provided, it just made the most sense to section it off into proper bedrooms.

“Here we go,” Connor practically tugs me into the room, “ta-da!” He looks around admiringly as I try to look cheerful at the colorful nursery he constructed.

“It looks great,” I tell him honestly, but my heart is not in it. My words ring flat.

“You don’t like it?” He looks over nervously, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

What’s not to like? From the mobile of hot air balloons hanging over the crib to the pale yellow walls and beautiful rocker in the corner, no detail has gone overlooked. My son or daughter will be happy to grow up in such a lovely room, with a father who’s so attentive.

“I do, I really do. I’m just tired,” I lie.

Connor studies my face, his neatly trimmed beard twitches as he looks me over.

“It’s something more than that. Tell me what’s going on, do you hate the room? I still have time to fix it if something is bothering you,” he looks around exasperated.

“No, it’s not the room,” I hold up my hands in protest.

“Then there is something bothering you,” he points at me. “Alright, spill it. Did you have another crazy dream that I was cheating on you? I told you before that it’s not fair to be angry at me for something you dream about. Those hormones are making you all coo-coo,” he puts his arms on my shoulders and pulls me into him, smiling.

“No, nothing like that,” I laugh.

“Well, what then?” His eyes narrow and his eyebrows furrow.

“It’s just…” I take a deep breath, “it’s been over two months and I still haven’t heard from Marcus.” I confess. “I know I should just let it go, but I can’t. It hurts that he doesn’t even care enough about the baby to put all this nonsense behind us. He’s the only family I have, but I’m also the only family he has left too. And it doesn’t seem to make any difference to him. I’m just, well, sad I guess,” I look up into Connor’s face and watch him mull over my words. I know there’s nothing he can do to fix this. It’s on Marcus now, and I’m starting to realize that my brother has no intention of trying to make amends.

“How about this,” Connor’s broad hands slide down my arms and he cups my hands in his, “this Sunday, what do you say you and I stop in for his service. Maybe we can try to talk to him after. I bet he’s missing you too, but he’s just stubborn. Marcus never did know how to say he was wrong. If we show up at the church, maybe it’ll give him the chance he needs,” he looks into my eyes and just like that, he manages to sweep away my burden. My pain.

“I think that’s a great idea,” I smile up at him. “And I do love this nursery. I can’t believe you did all this with your two hands.”

“You should see what else I can do with these hands,” he murmurs and cups my face toward his, covering my mouth with a soft, lingering kiss.

Electricity buzzes from his fingertips over my skin. It’s amazing that we’ve been living together for a couple of months now and I still get a little thrill every time he touches me. Especially when he’s got that look on his face.

“I think I’d like to see what else they can do,” I purr in his ear and let out a little squeal as Connor scoops me off my feet and marches me out of the nursery and down the hall to our room.

I kick my feet in the air playfully, giggling as he tosses me gently down on the bed. I bounce on the mattress and watch shamelessly as he peels off his tight, white t-shirt. He begins to undo his tool belt when I sit up straight.

“No!”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“You can take off the pants, but leave the tool belt on,” I murmur, feeling flushed all over.

“There’s my naughty girl,” he smirks down at me as he kicks his jeans off.

Connor leans over the edge of the bed and tugs my shirt up over my head. I lift my arms up as he frees me from the fabric. He quickly digs his fingers in under the waistband of my yoga pants and panties and rips them both down my legs in one, long pull.

“Shit, you’re hurt! What’s going on?” He holds the Lululemon yoga pants in his hand, with my thong still inside, and looks down at my legs in horror.

“What are you talking about?” I follow his gaze and see the streak of bright red blood on the cream-colored quilt between my legs.

Instinctively, I grab my belly and pat my fingers over my pussy, holding them up in front of my eyes. I want to scream at the crimson coating running down the sides of my hand but when I open my mouth no noise comes out.

“Fuck, are you having a miscarriage?” I can hear the panic in Connor’s voice. He never panics. “We need to get you to the hospital, right now,” he plucks me from the bed but I’m in a daze. I feel like this can’t be happening. It’s not real. I’m going to wake up from another vivid, crazy pregnancy dream and ask Connor to get me some water. It’ll all be alright.

“Lottie, come on, get dressed,” Connor snaps me back to the present. “I’ve got to get you to a doctor now!”

Shit. This isn’t a dream. If I’m losing this baby, I don’t think I’ll ever dream again. Because this is a nightmare.