Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(56)



“I see your husband arrived last night,” she said stoically.

“Yes,” I answered. “Do you know where he is?”

“Running,” was all she said.

I bit my lip and took a deep breath.

“You two talk?”

“No, but we will,” I answered, not offering any more information than that, as I quickly finished buttering a piece of toast and grabbed my coffee.

“Caffeine, dear,” my mother stated as she stopped me on my way to the patio.

“What?”

“Pregnant women really shouldn’t have caffeine.”

I looked down at my steaming cup of coffee, suddenly realizing who I was now.

I was no longer Lailah, the girl with the heart defect. I was Lailah, the mother-to-be.

Priorities shifted. It was a nice change of pace even if it meant giving up my morning cup of Joe.

“Okay,” I said, handing her the cup. I went back to the refrigerator for a bottle of orange juice.

I managed to catch the tail end of Jude’s marathon run as I settled into the recliner on the patio. His shirt was tucked in the back of his shorts, and as he ran, every fiber of muscle moved with him.

He looked like the same Greek god I’d fallen for in the hallways of that hospital.

Every female head turned to watch him speed by, but his attention was set dead ahead. He swung right and slowed to a walk. His eyes drifted up to the house and caught mine. His gaze intensified and followed me the entire way up the beach until he disappeared below the deck.

The door to the deck slid open about ten minutes later, and I watched him slip into a chair beside me. The smell of soap and freshly washed hair followed him as he moved toward me.

“We need to talk,” he said before turning back to the waves as they calmly fell, one after another, like clockwork.

“I can’t do what you’re asking me to, Jude,” I answered softly, my eyes falling to my nervous hands, as my fingers traced my wedding ring.

“I understand that.”

“You—what?” I asked, confusion marring my features, as my gaze met his.

“You made that abundantly clear when you left me.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Look,” he said, his hands running through his hair, as he bent forward, “I can’t make this decision for you. I get that now. But I also can’t stand around and watch as you allow yourself to slowly fade away. After everything we’ve been through, you at least have to know that of me.”

I sighed in frustration. “So, where does that leave us?”

“Together, Lailah! Don’t you get it by now? Don’t you see? The answer will always lie in us figuring things out together. We already tried life apart. It didn’t work.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” I asked, tears leaking from my eyes.

“Fight, damn it!” he answered loudly. “If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise that you won’t give up. Fight until your last dying breath. Do everything the doctors tell you to—no exceptions. Take every precaution and promise you won’t give up.”

He got up from his chair and knelt down in front of me, wiping away the moisture from my cheeks.

“Because I need you—yesterday, now, tomorrow. I’ll always need you. And if we’re going to be parents, I can’t do this alone. You’re the better half of this whole, and our child will need you as its mother.”

Tears poured down my face.

“You said, our child.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s kind of strange.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I choked out.

“Say you’ll fight for our family.”

Nodding wildly, I dived into his arms. “I’ll fight. We’ll be a family. I promise.”

As he held me, I sent a silent prayer to heaven, asking for strength.

This was one promise I never wanted to break.

“SO FAR, SO good,” Dr. Garcia said brightly. “I want to see you back here in two weeks, but it looks to me like you’ve got a fighter. Make sure you keep drinking lots of water, take your prenatal vitamins, keep up on your medications, and call if you have any questions or if there are any changes. Oh, and the nurse will show you the way to your ultrasound appointment.”

“Thank you,” Lailah said.

I moved to shake her hand. This was our third appointment in a month. Most pregnant women didn’t even see the doctor until they reached six weeks, but since Lailah was considered high risk with a high probability of miscarriage, we got the frequent-flyer card and came much more frequently. We’d turned down genetic testing for now, agreeing that the idea of not knowing was less stress and Lailah was convinced it wouldn’t change anything.

At this point, I wasn’t so sure.

So far, everything was running smoothly, but we still had the ultrasound, and until then, I didn’t think I would be able to take a single breath.

“Jude, can you hand me my shoes?” Lailah asked as she threw on her sweater and grabbed her purse.

I helped her into her flats and took her hand as she stepped off the exam table. The nurse was waiting for us, and we followed her down the hall to another wing of the medical office.

The first time we’d arrived at this location, I’d immediately voiced my concern that it wasn’t in the hospital. Lailah had laughed, pointing out that it was right next door.

J.L. Berg's Books