Page 88 of Broken & Bound

“You need some food or something,” he said, with a shake of his head.

“I can think of something…”

“God, I love you,” he declared, kissing my forehead.

I sighed and rested my head against his shoulder. He held my hand, his thumb stroking my palm, offering that silent support I needed.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I’m unhinged. I get it.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Isabella Caruso?” A nurse called my name.

Our eyes met, and he stood first. I wanted to bolt. To run in the opposite direction. He notched his head to the door and called my name. I shook myself and stood stoically. He took my hand, and we followed the nurse back to the room.

Once we were settled, I looked around. On one wall, various posters warned about drinking and smoking while pregnant. Everything seemed cold and clinical. The sterile smell was more pronounced here. We waited, and the seconds stretched into forever. Then the door finally opened, and the doctor entered.

“Good morning,” she said, introducing herself. “I understand you’re here to discuss your options. It looks like you’ve already met with Dr. Bruer, so this is the final step.”

I nodded and grabbed Pasha’s hand in a death grip. My palms were sweaty. His gaze snapped to mine.

“The first thing I want to say is this is a big decision, as I’m sure you are aware, but this is a safe space. We’re here to provide you with all the information you need to make the best decision for yourself. From your chart, it looks like you have a therapist already in place. Is that correct?”

I nodded, unable to do anything more. She talked about the procedure, the risks, the emotional aftermath. I tried to listen, but my mind kept drifting. When she asked if I had questions, I shook my head.

“How are you feeling about the decision?”

“Huh?” I asked, feeling lost.

It was like I’d just woken up from a nice nap and didn’t know where I was, what time it might be, or what the fucking day was. The doctor offered me a soft smile, and I had to look down.

“I’m sorry, the decision is heavy, is all,” I whispered.

“It is. That’s why we have these steps in place. And this is the point where we offer an ultrasound. You do not have to do to get my approval, but we always ask.”

“I understand…”

“Were you two wanting one? Similarly, like with the decision, there are pros and cons to it. It can provide clarity or closure of sorts, but it can be emotionally challenging at the same time.”

I’d done my homework. I knew this was a part of the process. The one I was most afraid of. As much as I knew this was my decision to make, I sought him for direction. His eyes, for once, didn’t reveal his inner thoughts. He was masking his pain. For me. I gulped.

Deep inside my heart, I knew he needed this, even it was going to kill me. So despite the terrifying fear that crawled its way up my throat, my mouth opened.

“Let’s do the ultrasound.”

His eyes drifted shut, but not for long. Just long enough for me to see how much it meant to him. There was so much hope there it hurt to look at, but I forced myself to. He spoke, the words harsh and the tone filled with emotion.

“In English please, Lev.”

I brushed the hair that had fallen over his forehead back and then down his face.

He kissed my palm, and he replied in a thick accent, “There isn’t a translation that would adequately express my feelings. But thank you.”

The room seemed to close in on us. I’d seen him perform in front of thousands of people. I’d seen him command a room without saying a word. But I’d never seen him look quite this vulnerable.

“Lie back,” the doctor instructed as she prepared the equipment.

Soon I was lying there with my leggings lowered and a sheet covering me. She grabbed the bottle of gel.