Page 57 of Afterglow

The thing I love most of all is how most of her questions are in the plural.

We. Our. Us.

I feel more at ease with each word tying us together, until Becca says, “Why don’t you go ahead and lie back.”

I’m immediately in motion, offering my hand to help Leanne lower herself down—not that she needs it, but I appreciate that she takes it all the same. Our eyes are locked, her hand in mine. I feel the blood pulsing through my extremities, and I wonder if my quickened heart rate is something she can feel through this small touch.

“Ready to hear baby’s heartbeat?” Becca asks.

My intake of breath is too sharp, too loud. I frantically search out Becca and when my gaze catches hers, I find an encouraging smile on her face. I squeeze my eyes shut for only a second to regroup. Then I look down at Leanne—my focus fully back on her.

Her curious gaze is hot against my skin, so I smile and squeeze her hand three times in reassurance, communicating that everything is fine.

My voice is a little hoarse when I respond for us both, “That sounds great.”

Leanne nods in agreement, holding my stare before reaching for the hem of her shirt and lifting it to reveal her still flat stomach. I’ve seen every inch of her skin, touched it, tasted it, but this is altogether more intimate. Becca slips on a pair of gloves, but my eyes are locked on Leanne’s abdomen, on the place our baby is. Our baby. The stinging sensation travels from the back of my throat to settle almost painfully in my sinuses.

Leanne squeezes my hand three times, just like I did for her. It soothes the rising emotions and I breathe a little easier, sniffing back the unwelcome tears.

Becca tucks the drape inside the waistband of Leanne’s leggings, and I look away before she pulls them down to expose her lower abdomen. I find myself staring into the hazel pools of Leanne’s eyes instead.

“I thought it would be cold,” Leanne says, holding my stare.

“We keep the gel in a warmer. Why make this any more uncomfortable than it needs to be, am I right?” Becca asks, her voice relaxed and jovial—the perfect bedside manner for keeping her patient calm and at ease… as well as the very anxious dad-to-be.

“You do a great job of keeping it from being uncomfortable,” Leanne states.

I can hear the smile in Becca’s voice. “Thank you. Now let’s find your baby.”

Leanne’s grip tightens in mine and I skim my thumb across the tops of her knuckles. When she glances down, so do I, and we watch as Becca begins moving the doppler across her smooth skin, swiping it from hip bone to hip bone. I don’t think Leanne is breathing… I’m not sure I am either.

After a moment of thrumming static, there’s a steady thwump thwump thwump that issues from the machine and Becca adjusts the wand a little more to find the exact spot where it shows up most clearly.

The tears I held at bay a moment ago reappear and I squeeze my eyes shut, letting my head fall back as I listen to the continued sound of a heartbeat that now supersedes my own. A sound that burrows into my very soul, becoming a new anchor to the world around me—to the woman beside me.

With another attempt to sniff back my tears, I look down and find an awestruck Leanne. They couldn’t find the heartbeat with the doppler at her first appointment, only visually on the ultrasound, so this is her first time hearing it as well. A single tear escapes the pooling silver at her lash line, and I reach my free hand to catch it, then coast my thumb across her cheek and back again.

I feel a tear of my own fall, tracking down my face until it gets lost in my beard. Something passes between Leanne and me in that moment, something more than words or emotions or thoughts can comprehend.

The sound fills the room like a symphony. Thwump-wump thwump-wump thwump-wump.

I forgot this sound. It was lost somewhere over the past seven years—to the sands of time or to my blocking it out—but it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard in my life. My lips twitch into a smile, a true one. One that is only for Leanne, for the gift of this moment with her I never believed I’d have again.

“They have a perfect, strong heartbeat,” Becca says, and I glance up to see her eyes are a little misty as well.

Perfect.

Strong.

Mine. They’re mine. Both of them. Even if they don’t know it yet.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Leanne

Sixteen Weeks ~ Baby is the size of a sugar glider

Bryce