Page 95 of When Love Found Us
A groan catches low in my throat, and I tilt my head, deepening the kiss, tasting her, feeling the way her lips part for me like she’s letting me in. My hands slide down, one gripping her waist, the other pressing against the curve of her lower back, pulling her against me.
I could get lost in this.
In her.
But that’s not what happens, because the doorbell chimes. Blythe stills, lips hovering against mine, breath warm, unsteady. A moment ago, it was just us. Just this. Now, reality crashes back in.
Blythe exhales, her forehead pressing to my chin for a fraction of a second before she pulls away. “That’s probably her.”
I nod, jaw flexing as I step back.
There are toomany people in my apartment.
Malerick and a couple of his guys helped bring the equipment inside, their presence lingering even though they’ve moved to the other room. Simone doesn’t usually use this machine in her office. This one’s portable—the one I “donated.”
Okay, fine. The one she made me buy because her clinic doesn’t budget for cavemen like me. It makes our bedroom feel smaller than usual, like the walls are pressing in, closing the distance between every breath.
Simone moves efficiently, setting up the machine on the stand near the bed, checking the cords, flipping switches. The soft whir of the ultrasound fills the silence, blending into the low murmur of conversation outside the room.
Then she glances at Blythe. “You ready?”
I stand there, arms crossed, my body locked tight. I don’t move as Blythe settles onto the bed, shifting slightly as she pulls up her sweatshirt. My throat feels tight, like something is lodged there, something I can’t swallow down. Every instinct in me screams that I need to be ready.
For what? I don’t fucking know.
Simone squeezes gel onto Blythe’s stomach, the coolness making her shiver. She exhales a shaky laugh, her fingers twitching slightly against the blanket beneath her. “That’s cold.”
I should say something. I should tease her, make her smile, cut the tension that’s been coiling in my chest like a goddamn live wire.
But then, the sound hits me first. A rapid, rhythmic woosh. The heartbeat.
I’ve heard it before, back at Simone’s office during the consultations, but this—this feels different. Like something electric shooting straight through me, rearranging things that were never meant to be moved.
I take a step forward without realizing it. My body moves before my mind catches up. Then another. And another, until I’m at Blythe’s side, reaching for her hand.
Blythe’s breath hitches, her fingers wrapping tightly around mine.
Simone moves the wand slightly, adjusting the angle, and then—there.
The screen shifts, and suddenly, there’s more than just a heartbeat. There’s movement. A small, curled figure, kicking lightly, shifting in the grainy black-and-white image.
I can’t move.
Can’t breathe.
Holy shit.
Blythe’s fingers dig into my wrist. “That’s—” Her voice catches, her free hand covering her mouth.
Simone smiles, warmth in her expression. “That’s your baby.”
The room disappears. The noise fades. Everything narrows down to this—to her, to the screen, to the tiny life moving inside her.
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Blythe squeezes my hand tighter. I look at her. At the screen. At her again.
She’s crying.
Not breaking down. Not sobbing. But silent tears streak her cheeks, her expression filled with something so raw it makes my chest ache.
