Page 67 of How to Date a Younger Man
He’s right. I know he’s right. But that doesn’t change the way I feel.
“I’m just so worried that the second I walk in there, it’s going to be bad news after more bad news. I already know that my age is an issue. What if there’s something else wrong with my body that I don’t even know about?”
“Babe, your body is perfect. Dr. Trager said he’s hopeful it will all go smoothly,” Griffin says, taking my hand again and squeezing it. “No matter what life throws at us, we’re together. I’ll always be right there by your side and we’ll weather it all together.” Tears well up in the corners of my eyes as he speaks. I know it sounds cheesy, but hearing him say those things out loud—even though he’s expressed them before—means the world to me.
“I love you,” I say, leaning across the table for a kiss. “Remind me again why we didn’t just get together and get this ball rolling earlier?”
He arches an eyebrow and raises his hand in the air. “I was on board from the second I laid eyes . . . and hands on you. Someone just took a while to come around.”
“Yeah, well, someone else had quite a bit of growing up to do, if I remember correctly.” I smile.
We hold each other’s gaze for a moment, and soon we’re both smiling. There’s no point in playing the should have, would have game. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters.
Besides, I’m totally right about the growing-up part.
The next morning, the two of us are sitting in a waiting room, minimally decorated with pale yellow walls, steel-gray furniture, and a corkboard full of baby pictures covering one of the walls.
Nerves fill my stomach as a thousand worried thoughts race through my mind. I can feel myself starting to spiral out of control with anxiety, so I quickly grab one of the pamphlets on the table in front of me at random and flip it open, only to be faced with way too much information about fertility, which only stresses me out more.
Just as I’m on the verge of panicking, Griffin places a calming hand on my knee and leans over to kiss me on the cheek. “Hey, you okay?”
I take a deep breath and nod slowly. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. The reality of everything is just hitting me all at once, I think.”
“No matter what happens, I’m here. You know that, right?”
I keep nodding, grab his hand, and squeeze tight. Honestly, it’s strange how much I’m freaking out right now. I own my own law firm, for goodness’ sake. You’d think I’d know how to manage stress by now.
It’s going to be fine, right? It has to be.
After a few moments of deep breathing, and with Griffin’s calming voice and presence by my side, I already start to feel a little better. As my thoughts begin to slow down, I take in the other patients waiting with us.
There are a couple of women who are visibly pregnant—one who looks about ready to pop, and another who’s just starting to show. The first woman has a partner with her, a woman, holding her hand and flipping through an important-looking folder. The other woman, though, the one who’s just starting to show, is all on her own, and my heart breaks a little for her. Sure, I don’t know her story. Maybe she has a partner who just couldn’t make it to this appointment with her. But the thought that she might be going through her own fertility journey with no one by her side, no one to hold her hand, makes me incredibly grateful for the partner I’ve found in Griffin, and how encouraging and helpful he’s been to me already.
“Thank you.” I turn and place a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t think I’d be able to do this without you.”
“No, thank you. I know you were unsure about coming here, and I’m proud of you for following through with this. And for letting me be a part of it.”
Our lips meet again, and when we part, I lay my head on his shoulder.
“Besides,” he says, running his fingers over my upper arm. “I’ve got a few questions of my own for this doctor.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“Mm-hmm. Let’s just say she and I need to have a little chat about superpowers.”
We laugh, and I swat his chest with the back of my hand.
“Behave in there,” I warn.
“You’re the boss,” he replies, raising his hands in surrender.
“Layne Anderson?” The nurse reads my name from her clipboard, looking up and searching the room.
I wave, and she motions for us to join her. Griffin and I turn to look at each other, his eyebrows raised, a smile forming on his lips.
“You ready?”
I place a kiss on his lips and give his hand a firm squeeze. “Let’s do this.”
