Page 86 of The Last Thing
I think some part of me has known that since the night we met. I’ve never felt a pull to someone like I do with him. And Sophia.
When we talked about coming down here for the weekend, he asked me if I was picturing us as a family, and the truth is, I have been since the very beginning. That’s what I want.
It’s time to stop pretending. To stop shutting out what we could be because I’m afraid of getting hurt.
After all these years, that won’t be easy. I’ll have to go slow. Whatever slow is when I spend every night in bed with the man whose baby I’m carrying, and whose daughter has already wormed her way into my heart.
Bit by bit they’re becoming my family, and while the side of me that screams there’s too much to lose, get out of there, is still loud and overwhelming, I’m never going to have what I want if I don’t work to silence those thoughts.
“Okay, I think we’re all set. Hallie, I’m going to hand you the wand, and you can insert it.”
I hate this part. All those damn TV shows where they squirt stuff on your belly when you’re not even through your first trimester are liars. To see the baby right now, I have to stick a wand up my lady business.
My hand shakes as I insert it.
This is it.
We’re either going to see our baby and everything will be fine, or…
I close my eyes. I don’t want to think about theor.
Wilson said his dad would’ve wanted him to have hope.
Hope.
I want to ask Wilson more about his dad. I feel bad I haven’t. Part of keeping someone’s memory alive is talking about them.It’s clear Wilson had a strong relationship with his dad. He should keep that alive.
The tech hits a few buttons, and Wilson squeezes my hand.
I turn toward him, because I don’t want to see the look on the tech’s face.
A couple more clicks, and Wilson’s eyes go wide.
I snap my eyes shut.No.I don’t want to?—
“Hallie. Look.”
I open my eyes, but don’t turn my head.
He looks at me and smiles softly.
“Trust me. Look.”
Slowly, I turn, and when I do, I’m greeted with the most beautiful sight I’ve ever beheld. Our tiny baby is there on the screen, little nubbin feet kicking. And then the tech hits another button and whooshing fills the room.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat. One hundred fifty beats per minute, which is typical for this stage. I can’t say anything specific as that’s up to the doctor, but what we’re seeing is an overall good sign.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Wilson kisses my hand, then stares reverently at the screen as the tech takes a bunch of measurements.
“This is incredible,” he whispers.
I squeeze his hand, pulling his gaze back to me for a second.
“Thank you for not letting me give up.”
He smiles at me. “You’ve got too much love in your heart to ever do that.”
