Unfinished Ex (Calloway Brothers, #2)(73)

I head back inside. “My apologies,” I say, entering the exam room.

Dr. Peterman looks up from his chart. “My resident still alive?”

“For now.”

“We understand the need to keep this private, Mr. Calloway. You have my word it will remain that way.” He puts down the file and picks up the wand thing. “Shall we get started?”

I right the chair and sit down, taking Nicky’s hand. We’re both scared. The ultrasound takes far longer than Calista’s did. This can’t be good. Nicky squeezes the blood from my fingers. I gently caress her forehead to help her relax, the whole time sending up a prayer that this will turn out all right. I dig deep, searching for that gut feeling I get sometimes. It’s not there. And I find myself at a crossroads between hope and desperation.

Nicky finally speaks up. “Dr. Peterman?”

He turns away from the screen. “Sorry. I’m trying to be as thorough as possible.” He points back.

“This right here is the fetus. It’s measuring at eight, eight-and-a-half weeks. Since you can’t pinpoint your last menstrual period, we’ll go strictly by the measurement and put your estimated due date at May twenty-ninth.”

May? I don’t even have time to process that yet. My heart thunders. “There’s a due date? So everything is okay?”

The nurse prints out a picture and hands it to Nicky.

“I can’t say either way,” Dr. Peterman says. “There are some things we just can’t see this early.

Like the extent of these bands of scarring. I can see scar tissue here by one of the fallopian tubes, which should have made it increasingly hard for you to conceive. Pregnancy requires a normal uterine cavity. Scarring can cause complications. The major area of concern with Asherman’s is the placenta attaching over areas damaged from your D and C. This would be called an invasive placenta, where it digs deeper into the uterine wall. And if the fetus were to be carried to term with an invasive placenta, a C-section with hysterectomy would be indicated.”

Nicky gasps. “Hysterectomy?”

“If the placenta is too deep, the whole uterus will have to be removed, or we risk life-threatening bleeding.”

Nicky begins shaking. Dr. Peterman puts a hand on her arm. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

That’s a worst-case scenario.”

She shakes her head and grips her pendant. “No. The worst thing that could happen would be losing the baby.”

“We’ll know more around the eighteen-to twenty-week mark, when you’ll have an anatomy ultrasound. We’ll also get a consult by MFM—maternal fetal medicine. They specialize in high-risk cases. They’ll see you at least once. More if necessary, but we’ll play that by ear. In the meantime, I’d like to get the records from your doctor in Oklahoma. Once we have all that information, we’ll have a better idea of the level of risk.”

“Eighteen to twenty weeks?” Nicky’s voice cracks. “We have to wait ten more weeks to know anything?”

“Can’t you do it earlier?” I ask. “She may be back in Oklahoma by then. And with her previous miscarriage, I’m not sure we could stand the wait. There must be something you can do. Look at how freaked she is. I’m begging you.”

He studies the screen. “I’d be willing to do another one at fourteen weeks, but no sooner. And there are no guarantees we’ll be able to get concrete information from that one. You’ll still need the other ultrasound.”

“Good. Thank you. That’s all we can ask.”

“Still. Six weeks,” Nicky says. “This will be torture.”

There is a gigantic knot in my throat that cuts like shards of glass when I swallow. “Doctor, if Nicky was your daughter, what would you tell her? How would you honestly feel about this? We already lost one baby. We didn’t think this was a possibility. I want to be excited about this, but all that stuff you said has me terrified.”

“It’s okay to get excited. Every pregnancy comes with a risk of complications and miscarriage.”

He motions back to the screen. “Right now, I see a healthy fetus with a strong heartbeat. So let’s not worry until we know for sure there’s something to worry about. It’s possible you could have a normal full-term pregnancy; let’s focus on that for the time being.”

Nicky runs a finger across the picture. “Is it really okay to be excited?”

“Yes, of course.” He smiles, offering us a modicum of relief. “You already beat the odds by conceiving. Thinking positively and taking care of yourself are the best things you can do at this point.”

He and the nurse leave the room. I bend over the table and pull her into my arms. “You heard him. You beat the odds. You could have a normal pregnancy. We’re going to be okay, Nic. This baby is meant to be. I know it.”

She looks at me through balls of tears. “You think so?”

I put a hand on her belly. “We’re going to be a family, in whatever fucked-up way that might happen.”

She laughs. “I want this, Jaxon. I want this so much.”

“I want you. I want this baby. I want all of it—any goddamn way I can have it.”





Chapter Thirty



Nicky