Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(57)

“Yes, but it’s not part of the hospital. What if something goes wrong, and you need to be admitted? How long will that take?” I’d questioned.

“Marcus said she’s one of the best doctors in obstetrics, as far as he’s concerned. I’m in perfectly good hands.”

I’d grumbled but relented, agreeing that there was only one doctor in the family and it wasn’t me.

We’d decided to stay in California indefinitely.

Right now, we needed calm and serenity. We couldn’t get that in New York.

I’d thought Roman’s head might explode when I called him and explained I was taking a year off, but he had been surprisingly Zen about the entire thing.

I’d offered to be available for teleconferences and emergencies, but he’d just said, “We got it,” and that was it.

I hoped I would have a company to return to next year.

I hoped I would have a lot of things to return to in a year. Lailah and I had agreed to keep the dark thoughts to a minimum, believing that there was no point in mulling over what might be, and instead, we were focusing on the present we still had. But there were times I struggled.

Every time I saw her, I would stare just a bit longer, capturing the way her eyes looked in the warm California sun.

Every time I touched her, I’d linger, memorizing the way her body reacted to mine.

A thousand lifetimes would never be enough. This was true. For now, I’d gladly settle for one.

The nurse finished our quick tour of the office before dropping us off at the ultrasound waiting room. A woman and her husband sat across from us. Her stomach was swelling with their child, and he tenderly rubbed it and spoke in hushed tones. As they were called back by a technician, Lailah looked at me, a nervous halo clouding her normally bright blue eyes.

A quick wink and a nudge to her shoulder earned me a small smile before she tenderly rested her head against me.

“Will you do that?” she asked wistfully.

“What?”

“Rub my belly?”

“Only if you let me rub pudding all over it and lick it off,” I said, completely deadpanned.

Her head jerked up to look at me as she tried not to crack a grin. “You’re crazy.”

“You’d let me do it though, wouldn’t you?”

Her name was called before she could answer, but I saw her roll her eyes, and I heard the beautiful sound of her laughter as we made our way down the hallway.

Mission accomplished.

Google and I had become the best of friends over the last month, and I’d learned my fair share about pregnancy, including the importance of stress reduction to the mother.

It was a simple concept—happy mother equaled happy baby. In my world, that meant everything.

We were led to a small room filled with equipment I’d only seen in movies. Lailah was told to strip down, and she was handed a robe. We were given a few minutes of privacy while she shimmied out of her dress and sweater and quickly put on the hospital gown.

“I look hot, huh?” She twirled around once before fastening the ties at the top.

“You forget, I fell in love with you in a hospital.”

“Yes.” She smiled, taking a seat on the exam table. “But even then, I didn’t wear awful hospital robes.”

Remembering her affinity for yoga pants even then, I grinned. “No, but it wouldn’t have mattered even if you did. It was hopeless. You had me from that very first moment.”

“And I, you.”

We made idle chitchat until the technician came back, ready to do the ultrasound. My heart took residence in my throat as I watched her help Lailah into the stirrups and gently lean her back. I’d braced myself for the methods used for very early ultrasounds, but nothing could fully prepare me for the massive instrument the technician pulled out.

Lailah choked back a laugh as she saw my eyes go wide, but I refused to say anything, choosing instead to stand by her side and offer moral support.

“This might be slightly uncomfortable,” the technician warned as her hand disappeared under the drape of Lailah’s robe.

She winced, and I reached out for her hand. The pain must have been brief because she quickly relaxed, her eyes glued to the tiny monitor next to the technician.

“There’s your little one,” she said, smiling, pointing to a dark peanut-shaped nugget in the center.

I felt the breath rush out of me.

“Is this your first ultrasound?” she asked, looking back at Lailah.

She was busy staring at the screen. “Oh, um . . . no. I had a quick one at four weeks. It was a bit of a surprise, so they wanted to confirm the test.”

“Well then, I’m guessing at four weeks, you didn’t get to hear the heartbeat then?”

We both turned to her with wide eyes.

“Can we?” Lailah asked.

“Of course. Let me just . . .” She paused mid-sentence, clicking and entering things in on the keyboard.

Within moments, the room was filled with a whooshing sound.

We sat in awe, listening to the heart beating strong and fast, as the technician continued to do her thing. Lailah squeezed my hand, looking up at me, as her eyes filled with tears—happy, joyous tears.

My world doubled in that moment. As I looked into that monitor and listened to the sound of my unborn child, I knew Lailah wasn’t the only person I’d lay down my life for.