When the nurse finally called her name, she stood, forced a smile, and followed her back. She listened to the doctor reviewing her son’s measurements, advice, and even laughed when the doctor joked about her baby kicking like someone training for soccer.
But as the doppler picked up the sound of the heartbeat, it was strong and beautiful, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She wished Vic could hear it. Wished he was there to watch their child kick and stretch her stomach out.
She wished they were more than two people trying to figure out how to make this accidental blessing work.
After her appointment, she did as promised and sent him a text with the baby’s stats and the doctor’s praises. He responded immediately, thrilled and proud.
It helped, but it still didn’t erase the image of the emptychair beside hers.
“You’re scared?” Addison nudged her and broke her out of her thoughts.
“Terrified.” Tachina sniffed. Her eyes were a little scratchy. She prayed she didn’t start crying now. She’d loved every moment of being pregnant with Kian and wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
“Good. That means it matters.” She reached over and grabbed their small container of Crab Rangoon they hadn’t touched yet. “Here. Let’s eat these. You are going to need your strength for tomorrow’s conversation.”
Tachina managed a weak laugh. Her phone buzzed again. She lifted it off her lap and brought it up.
“What does he want now?” Addison asked.
“Nothing.”
But it wasn’t another message from Vic.
It was a picture of Kian from the game. Vic was holding him up in the stands, and both of them had wide grins on their faces with blue lips. Vic had probably sent it earlier during the game, but she hadn’t seen it.
Her chest softened. Her heart melted. A sigh escaped her as she took the picture in. Her little man was having the time of his life with his dad.
The world she had built with Vic was peaceful, sometimes awkward, but overall, it was precious.
And tomorrow, with one conversation…everything could change.
Vic glanced in the rearview mirror for the third time in two minutes. He watched Kian in his booster seat, his legs swinging while he tried to sing along with the current song on the radio. Vic smiled and turned it up a bit. It was a great song, and he loved how his son was enjoying an oldie-but-goodie rock song.
The kid was still riding high on the Monsters game from last night, and honestly?
Sowas Vic.
Nothing beat watching your son scream at a hockey ref like he had played the game himself for years.
I’ve created a mini sports fanatic, he thought.
Good. He could live with that.
His phone buzzed through the car’s hands-free connection, and the dashboard screen lit up with the incoming call.
Mom.
Of course she’d be calling right now. He’d left the office a little early so he could pick up Kian from school as he’d promised. She’d probably tried to reach him there and was told he’d left for the day.
“Hey, Mom,” Vic answered.
“You’re picking Kian up again?” she asked instead of greeting him back. Nancy Maxwell’s voice always held an aristocratic edge to it. She had been born with a silver spoon technically, but one would assume she’d seriously come out of the womb holding one. “Victor, darling. You can just hire someone to pick him up. You have a company to run. You can’t do that if you keep leaving early to play chauffeur to a four-year-old.”
“Mom, this is important to me. It doesn’t take long anyway. Twenty minutes, tops.” Vic rubbed his forehead. They’d had this conversation before, and it never got through to her that this was something he valued with his son.
“But it doesn’t have to be.” She sighed dramatically.
He rolled his eyes, thankful she couldn’t see him.