“THE DOCTOR WILL be right in.” The nurse picks up the file and gives me a sultry look as she walks out the door.
“I like her,” Layla says, folding her hands on her lap.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“She’d fuck me in a second if I told her to.”
She makes a face. “How do you know?”
“Trust me.”
She picks at the white paper covering her bottom half. “This is so awkward.”
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask. “I can go out to the waiting room, if you’d like.”
Her head rolls to the side as she lies on the table and looks at me. She seems to be caught up in whatever she’s warring with in her pretty little head.
She’s done that a lot since last night. I guess I have too. We had sex three times before we finally had our fill of each other. It’s so easy being with her, so natural. Unlike with most women, being with her is not a show of what I can do or watching a woman perform for me. I want to make her feel good, hope she knows how beautiful she is, and relish the fact that this woman wants to be with me.
Glancing around the room, I’m shocked at how calm I am. This place should freak me the fuck out, but it doesn’t. It’s almost exciting being here with her.
“I want you to stay,” she says finally. “It’s your baby too.”
We wait in the quiet for the doctor to arrive. I pick up a magazine and leaf through it, not paying much attention to the words, only to Layla out of the corner of my eye. A few minutes later, the door presses open slowly and a man comes in. He’s older, in his sixties, with white hair and a kind smile. He shakes my hand. “You must be Mr. Miller?”
“No,” I say, standing. “I’m Branch Best.”
He quirks a brow. “The Branch Best?”
“The one and only. This,” I say, clearing my throat, “is Layla Miller.”
The doctor introduces himself to her and takes a seat on a little wheeled stool. They go through basic medical information, family history, and a list of health questions that Layla answers without hesitation. I listen, realizing how much I don’t know about this woman.
“You are the father, is that correct?” Dr. Howard looks at me.
“Yes.”
He scribbles again and then stands. Pulling up Layla’s shirt, he places a stethoscope to her abdomen. Her eyes pull away from his hands and over to me, holding my gaze.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She nods, turning back to the doctor as he speaks.
“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” he asks.
Layla nods, her eyes wide, as he puts a little machine up to her belly. I reach for her hand, holding it in mine. A little tear dots the corner of her eye.
Holding my breath, I listen to the crackle of the machine as the doctor moves it around. And, finally, there it is. The steady beat of a heart.
It’s unmistakable—woosh-woosh-woosh—that sounds through the room is a heartbeat. Our baby’s heartbeat.
Tears stream down Layla’s face as she clutches my hand. I lock them together, entwining our fingers and squeezing hers back. We watch each other as the sound gently strums through the room like a lullaby.
With each beat, something rustles deep inside me. An overwhelming sense of responsibility, a fierce need to protect the little boy nestled inside her.
She blinks, the tears falling faster, and I realize it’s not just the baby I want to protect. It’s her too.
I watch her grin, then laugh, then look at me in amazement.
“Do you hear that?” she asks, sniffling. “It’s so loud.”
“He’s going to be a wide receiver,” I manage to say. “Listen to that. He’s a beast already.”
The doctor laughs, wiping the gel off the machine and from Layla’s stomach. “It sounds good and healthy. You can sit up now.”
I jump to my feet, helping her get situated. My efforts are rewarded with a smile.
“Everything looks and sounds good,” he says, picking up her chart. “Congratulations. You two are very lucky.”
I slide my gaze to the woman still holding my hand.
Maybe I am. Maybe I really am.
THE KEYS CLANG against the table. My purse hits the floor, my shoes slide off my feet, and I hit the couch with a thud.
“You okay?” Branch laughs, sitting at the end of the sofa. He pulls my feet into his hands and rubs them. “Doctor’s office and drive-thru is all you can handle in one day, huh?”
“I’m so sleepy,” I say, my eyelids drooping closed. “I feel like a toddler that’s missed my nap.”
His hands swamp my feet, easily bending them at his will. It feels so good as he presses his thumb into the arch and releases all the stress that’s held there.
“Thank you for going with me today,” I say. “I appreciate it.”
“Thanks for letting me.” He works my feet back and forth, his leg starting to tap beneath me. “Can I talk to you about something, Sunshine?”
“Of course.”
Holding my breath, I feel his hands slow down until they’re eventually resting on top of my feet. I have no idea what he’s going to say and it makes me want to vomit.
Hearing the baby’s heartbeat was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done. It was a connection to the inside of me I had to go to the outside to get. Having Branch there, watching his reaction, was the sweetest part of all.
His eyes lit up like he was mesmerized, his hand clenching mine for all it was worth. I couldn’t tell if he was scared or shocked or overjoyed, and he didn’t mention it on the way home. He didn’t speak much at all. I pretended to sleep and he just drove, and with every mile that went by, I felt a little more unnerved.
He takes a deep breath. “What if . . . what if we were wrong?”
My heart skips two beats. “If you were wrong about anything, I wouldn’t be surprised. But me? I’m never wrong,” I joke, hoping to calm my nerves. It doesn’t work.
“I think you were this time.”
I open my eyes to see him watching me closely. It’s my favorite look on him, the one that’s as soft as it is tough. There’s a glimmer in his eye. The way he licks his lips makes me wonder if he’s nervous too.
“What’s wrong, Branch?”
“What if . . .” he shuffles in his seat. “We keep talking about things like it’s me and you. What if it isn’t me and you? What if there’s no me and you?”
Trying to sit up, I’m stopped by him clamping down on my feet. My heart stills as I look at him.
“What if it isn’t me and you, Sunshine?”
“I don’t understand,” I gulp, a hand falling to my stomach. He watches it rest against my navel before he looks back at me.
“What if it’s . . . us?” he whispers.
“Branch . . .”
I’m glad he doesn’t speak because I couldn’t hear him over the roar in my ears anyway. My heart is beating so damn hard I’m lightheaded.
Wetness pricks my eyes but it doesn’t fall. Shock prevents that. I just look at him and try to gather what he really means from his face, but the look of sincerity doesn’t change.
His hand comes down gently on top of mine, applying a small dose of pressure to my stomach. My heart nearly bursts in my chest, the lump in my throat refusing to allow any words by. Instead, I just take in the worry lines on his forehead and the clear blue in his eyes.
“I’ve been thinking it for a while now about you and me and what we might’ve been and what we could be,” he says. “Then I heard the baby today. God, wasn’t that amazing?”
All I can do is nod and hold my breath, waiting for him to continue.
He reaches out and tips my chin towards him so I have no other choice but to look him in the eye. “I have reservations about whether I should do this or not, but looking at you lying by me, thinking about that motherfucker in here . . .”
“Max?”
“Whatever his name was,” he sighs. “This thing with you isn’t going to go away. As a matter of fact, it’s getting worse.”
“This thing with me?” I say, my voice crackling.
“It started the day I saw you. It got worse when I saw the sex therapy card, almost fell out of control at the festival, and spun so far past me when we were together that night that I knew there was no turning back. I just didn’t want to fuck you all up, but I already had, in another way.”
I try to speak, but only a whimper comes out as salty liquid streams down my face. He pulls me into a hug, laying me across his lap, and holding me so hard I can barely breathe.
Wrapping my hands in his shirt, I press my cheek against his heart. It’s beating loud and strong, just like our baby’s was just a little while ago. The thought makes me smile through the tears.
“I don’t know what this means,” he admits. “I know there are still things we have to work out and I can’t figure out how to protect you from my life. I just know I want to be here every day to check on you, for you to know I have your back, to make sure our baby gets Popsicles.”
“What?” I laugh, wiping away tears.
“Nothing.”
Pulling away, I look into his sweet, blue eyes. “We had very real reasons to not be together and those aren’t going to go away.”
He pulls me all the way into his lap so I’m facing him. “I know that and we’d be stupid to pretend they aren’t real. But . . . I think we’re stupid to also pretend that you and I are strangers. When I look at you, I don’t see a random girl. I see a girl I want to get to know and see what happens.”
“Doesn’t this set it up to end even worse?”
“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But until I know you and I aren’t doomed one hundred percent, I’m probably going to kill anyone that comes around. I almost ended Max.”
“Max is no chump,” I giggle.
“I’d have pieced him out,” he teases. “But stop changing the subject. Let’s give this one try. One good, solid effort, and if I think I’m fucking it up or if you think I am or if it becomes too much, we stop right then. Done. No more.”
“Okay,” I whisper, grinning like a loon.
He digs under the neckline of his t-shirt and removes the necklace his grandmother gave him. He holds it in his hand and looks at it for a long moment before placing it around my neck.
“I want you to wear this,” he says softly, positioning it carefully so the cross sits in the center of my chest. “There’s no reason why and it’s really dumb but I want to know it’s there.”
“It’s not dumb,” I say, placing my hand over his and pressing it against my body. “It’s sweet.”
He smirks. “Who knew I could be sweet?”
“I had an inkling,” I shrug.
“Did you really?”
“Mmhmm. You come in with this cocky swagger, but I could see through you.”
“That’s impressive,” he says, moving so that I’m lying on my back. He hovers over me, his smirk growing wider.
Reaching between his legs, I cup his hardening length. “That’s impressive too.”
“You know what’s double impressive?” He lays kisses along my neck, to the base of my ear, and over to my mouth.
“What’s that?”
“Showing you how impressively sweet I can be with my impressive cock.”
I giggle, but the sounds are swept up by his kisses. When he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine, I grin. “I’m willing to give you an opportunity to put your money where your mouth is.”
“Don’t you mean my mouth where the honey is?”
“Oh my God,” I laugh, my body shaking. “That was awful.”
Before I know what’s happening, my dress is bunched at my waist and he’s between my legs. A wicked look in his eye, he stares at me through his lashes. “This, Sunshine, will be good. I promise.”
His head dips between my legs and I’m reminded just how good he can be.