CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I can’t believe I might be a mother soon.
For the longest time I wasn’t sure I even wanted children.
Now I can’t imagine wanting anything more, which means I’m completely freaked out over every little thing.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Hope?” Rock asks, breaking into my thoughts.
For the millionth time since I left the doctor’s office, I consider confiding in him. I’m so damn scared, though. We weren’t planning this, but in my heart, I know he’ll be happy. So, it’s not fear of his reaction stopping me.
It’s fear of getting his hopes up and then failing him again.
Of course, when he finds out I’ve suspected for a while and didn’t tell him, he won’t be pleased either.
“Hope?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Just feeling a little funky.”
“Think you need to take a sick day?”
I imagine I’ll be taking a lot of time off in the near future. Maybe that’s why I’ve been turning down new cases and slowly trying to wrap up my small caseload. Maybe part of me already knew. “No.”
He pulls me in close, kissing the top of my head.
We’re touching. So close and yet there’s a huge gulf between us.
Does he know? Can he feel me holding back?
He places his fingers under my chin. Firm, but so gentle, he tips my head up. His steady gray eyes bore into mine.
“You seem to have something on your mind lately.”
“I have lots of things on my mind.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
I duck my head. “I can’t.” It’s not exactly a lie. My throat’s so tight, I don’t think I could form the words to express the storm inside me.
For the next two days, all I do is worry.
Rock’s busy at his shop, catching up on all the custom work that piled up while we were away.
I’m busy preparing for my trial that starts on Monday.
Around noon my doctor’s office calls to inform me that the blood test was positive and confirm the ultrasound for the next day.
I spend most of the afternoon looking up information about ectopic pregnancies, ultrasounds, and maybe peek at a baby name website once or twice.
Boy or girl? I try to push the thought out of my head before it fully forms.
“Hey, partner,” Adam says, standing in my doorway.
I glance up, mouth already twisting with skepticism. He only calls me partner when he wants something.
“What’s up?”
“Think you can handle a case for me tomorrow?”
The ultrasound’s tomorrow morning. Depending on the outcome, I might not even come back to the office.
“Can’t. I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning and then I have to prep for my trial.”
“You all right?”
He leans his shoulder against the door. “So, you never told me. How was the big biker orgy?”
I sigh and close out my latest Google search. “It wasn’t an orgy.”
At least not officially. I definitely saw enough things that could’ve qualified as an orgy. Not that I’d ever share that with Adam.
“Well, you look good. Rested and tan.”
“Thanks, I think. Did I look pallid and haggard before I left?” I tease.
“Nope.” He pops his fist against the door a few times. “You think Mara’s interested in covering for me?”
“I don’t know. Call and ask her.”
He grumbles something and waves before walking away.
The rest of my afternoon goes by quickly. My client comes in so I can review the questions I plan to ask with her. I also go over a list of questions I suspect her ex’s attorney will ask. As much as I try to concentrate, my mind wanders a lot throughout our appointment.
The next morning I arrive at the doctor’s office right on time. A miracle for me if I’m being honest.
I wait around for a while before I’m finally brought in to an exam room and asked to change.
The technician looks around Heidi’s age, but she’s friendly and explains everything in detail.
The cool, slippery gel she spreads over my stomach is the easy part. Watching her slide the wand back and forth, while she searches and searches, finding nothing, brings tears to my eyes.
“It’s okay. It might be too soon,” the tech assures me. She calls someone in for a second opinion and they try again.
Nothing.
The doctor finally comes in to see me. “Well, your hCG rates are increasing. I would feel better if we’d seen the yolk sac today. But it doesn’t mean anything is wrong. We might just be too early.”
I swipe at the tears gathering on my lashes. “Early, that would be a first for me.”
She’s not unsympathetic, but she’s not super-cuddly either. “Let’s get more blood today and schedule you for the transvaginal ultrasound next week. That should give us a more definitive answer.”
I’m good at ignoring and burying the things that bother me. After leaving the doctor’s office, I return to the office and prep for my trial without crying once.