Page 49 of Angel's Smoke

“I heard you brought a guest today. So exciting. Quite a few of my patients bring loved ones to their sixteen-week appointments. Well, any time between sixteen and twenty weeks, really. What can I say? Family photos tend to bring out the crowd.” Dr. Li walked over to a dispenser on the wall and shot a dollop of hand sanitizer into her palm before rubbing it in, then gestured toward the scale. “All right. Let’s get you measured, chat a bit about how you’re feeling, what to expect over the next few weeks, and then we’ll take a look at our little lemon.”

“I thought it was an avocado.”

Anna had just put her second socked foot on the scale when the sound of Iron’s gruff voice debating the fruit-shaped merits of her baby nearly sent the scale into full tilt. She smiled and, after Dr. Li jotted down her weight, returned to the table, laid back, and lifted her sweater over her belly. “Maybe it’s the size of a navel orange or something.”

Iron scooted his chair closer to her. “Not sure what kind of navel oranges you’re eating. Some of those things are the size of small rodents.”

“A persimmon, then?”

“Nah,” he said, taking her hand and twining his fingers with hers. “A few varieties of persimmon can be weirdly flat, like if an animal sat on it or something. I don’t like the idea of your baby being so misshapen.”

“True,” she said, nodding seriously while Dr. Li measured her. “Although, I can’t think of a fruit more misshapen than an avocado, to be frank. Maybe a strawberry, but we’ve already passed that stage of fruit development.”

“Damn. And here I thought I was being original.” Iron winked at her, sending an entire meadow’s worth of butterflies alight in her abdomen. The baby even seemed to get a kick—ha!—out of Iron’s teasing. Now that Anna knew what to look for, she smiled every time a school of fish swam through her lower belly, as it did just then.

“You two are a riot,” Dr. Li said. “I hope he can make it to your appointments more often.”

“Me, too,” Anna said, stunned by just how much she meant it.

Anna and Dr. Li chatted more about how the past few weeks had been going for her. Yes, she was mostly out of the morning sickness loop. No, she didn’t have any sciatica pain flare-ups. Yes, she was eating well and paying attention to the nutrients her body needed. (Yes, Anna occasionally considered the sugar in her cereal a nutrient. No, she did not tell Dr. Li that, and thankfully, neither did Iron, who just arched a brow when that particular topic entered the conversation.)

Then Dr. Li pulled out the tube of ultrasound gel. “Are we ready to see your baby?”

“Definitely.”

After what had to be a punch-bowl-sized amount of goop was applied to her belly, Anna squeezed Iron’s hand as they waited for Dr. Li to lift the curtain on the star of the show. There was a fair amount of hunting and pecking on the doctor’s part, owing to the little one’s size, and then it was front and center in all its black-and-white grainy glory.

“Now,” Dr. Li cut in. “Before I go any further, you’ve previously indicated that you don’t want to know the gender, Anna. Is that still the case?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Iron rubbed his thumb over hers, drawing her attention back to him. “Why not?” he whispered.

She shrugged. “No reason.”

He eyed her warily and gave her a look that told her they’d be circling back to that conversation, but he thankfully dropped it for the time being and returned his attention to the monitor.

“Heart rate is going strong, and I’m happy to report that all arms, legs, fingers, and toes seem to be accounted for. Bones are a nice bright white, which tells me they’re forming nicely. Ears aren’t quite in the final position yet, so you still have some time to continue debating what fruit you think the baby’s most likely to resemble before it could hear you and possibly take offense.” Dr. Li winked and actually managed to get a chuckle out of Iron.

But when Anna looked back at the angel, all she got was the strong profile of his jaw. So engrossed was he in what was filling the screen that he’d even let his grip on her hand loosen a bit, to the point where she’d begun tickling the underside of his palm to see whether he’d notice.

He hadn’t.

Oh, no. This was dangerous. Anna knew better than to drink in the sight of Iron this way. She’d grown used to his attention, however uncomfortable it’d made her at first. But now that another beautiful little life seemed intent on stealing it away from her, she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Hers was a path of just-enoughs and right-under-the-wires. She had a house and could support herself, but the wordbarelytended to rear its ugly head most months where that was concerned. She wasn’t old by society’s standards, nor was she considered young enough to be a young mother. She was good at what she did and had built a satisfying career she could do from anywhere. But unfortunately, because shecoulddo it from anywhere, she more often than not chose to do it from her hole-in-the-wall office, where sunlight and vitamin D were optional because the only doctor she saw regularly wasn’t checking her vitamin D (provided all was well with the baby, which it seemed to be).

And here was Iron, holding her hand, meeting her baby, and welcoming her into a family that didn’t usually take well to outsiders. He may otherwise leave her once the soul bond was fully enacted and he could finally return to wherever he came from. He was a man of responsibility, regardless of emotions. She knew that now. If she asked for it, she suspected he’d likely go anywhere with her, whether or not he wanted to.

The realization was enough to dim the cheery glow that had cocooned them ever since they’d been shut into the exam room together.

Dr. Li continued her docent’s tour of Anna’s uterus, touching on relevant phrases likestretch mark preventionandstaying hydrated. But it all turned into dull background noise, like the constant roar of plane engines—necessary to fill the silence so Anna’s other senses could focus on what rose to the surface.

Duty was etched on Iron’s features, in the proud slope of his brow and the taut lines of his jaw. But conflict lived there, too. It was in the dusty shadows beneath his eyes, the ones that were often overpowered by his distracting gaze and rich beard.

His presence in the dinky chair next to her broke her heart as much as it held it together, painting whatever future visions that occasionally flashed through her mind with a skim coat of sludge.

She feared she could either be right or happy, but not both.

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