One Night to Risk It All(41)

“Great. Send her in,” Alex said.

Dr. Sands, Rachel’s doctor, whom he hadn’t met yet, came out onto the terrace smiling. It felt so strange to have a doctor standing there. To know that this was about the baby.

Sometimes—well, all the time—it was so much easier not to think about the baby.

But then, if there was no baby, Rachel would have no reason to be there.

That made his throat tighten with a strange kind of terror.

“Hi, Rachel. Shall we go upstairs and get started?”

Rachel looked at him, her eyes wide.

“Are you afraid I’ll come?” he asked. “Or afraid I won’t?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

“I’m going to come.”

“Okay.”

* * *

A loose summer dress and a sheet were Rachel’s accessories for the appointment. She knew it was technically too early to need another appointment. She was close to eight weeks, but there was little point in checking things out. Except she was nervous.

About everything. Afraid everything was fine. Afraid it wasn’t.

And on the verge of losing her mind completely. The pressure in her chest had built to a maddening degree. So that just breathing every day was a chore.

It had been two weeks since she’d been with Alex. Two weeks. And she’d denied herself the only release that had given her any relief. Because he was too much. Because he wanted too much.

“Go ahead and lie down on the bed, Rachel, it will be pretty quick. I understand that you were wanting to see if we could see the heartbeat. I can’t make any guarantees. If we don’t see anything, it could all still be fine, but we’ll give it a look.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I know it’s early but...we have...things to deal with.”

Dr. Sands gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know. It’s okay, we’ll figure it all out.”

“Alex, could you stand up...well, not down there?” Rachel asked as she moved into position for her exam.

Alex came to stand by her head as the doctor prepared the ultrasound.

Rachel winced both at the cold and the intrusion and waited for everything to come up on the small screen of the portable machine.

“There we go,” Dr. Sands said. “See the flutter of movement there? That’s the heartbeat.”

Rachel looked at the black space on the screen, at the little lines of white and flickering brightness that signified life.

“It all looks good. Of course, there are no guarantees at any stage,” she said, looking her in the eyes, “so you don’t want to make any decisions that are too life-changing. But you’re healthy, and there’s no reason to believe anything will go wrong, okay?”

Rachel nodded. “Okay. That’s great. Good.”

“I’ll let you get cleaned up. Alex? Perhaps you’d like to come with me. And if you have any questions it would be a good time—”

Their voices faded when the door closed and Rachel stood up, her hands shaking as she went into the bathroom and dealt with the gel mess left behind by the ultrasound.

Then she knelt down in front of the toilet and threw up.

Morning sickness in the afternoon maybe. Or just shock.


She sat down in the middle of the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. What had she gotten herself into? She was pregnant and there was really no denying it. There was a heartbeat. Inside of her. She’d never been so afraid in her entire life.

She didn’t know how to do this. She didn’t know... She couldn’t do it.

All she could picture now was the doctor putting the baby in her arms and her handing it right back.

She pushed herself up, standing on shaking legs. She felt like a newborn fawn. A newborn fawn that was in no way equipped to care for a baby because she was...well, she didn’t feel like she was a grown-up yet. Didn’t feel like she could be a mom.

Miserable, she crossed to the sink and started brushing her teeth. At least her breath would be better, even if everything in her was still in disarray.

She took a deep breath, gasped for it, and went back into the bedroom. She was okay. She would be okay. She didn’t need to cry.

She never cried. She hadn’t cried in years. She wasn’t about to start now. She hadn’t cried since her mother had died. Her mother...

That’s not where it goes, Rachel.

No, Rachel, you’re doing it wrong.

You’re too loud. Too rowdy. You shouldn’t go out at night. You shouldn’t wear that dress.

Rachel, how could you do something like that? Didn’t I teach you to wait for your husband?

Rachel blinked rapidly, trying to shut out the memories. The critical voice in her head. The voice of the woman who was perfect and graceful to everyone. Everyone but her.

Because Rachel couldn’t do anything right. Rachel wasn’t ever going to be able to do things the way they were supposed to be done. Rachel would never get it right. Ever.

She’d tried to kick against it, to rebel, and in the end she was the only one who’d been hurt. And she’d come out the other side trying so hard to be better. Trying to keep herself from being too big...too loud...too her.

She was trying so hard not to be herself.

The dam that was holding everything in, that had been holding it all in for years in spite of the mounting pressure, finally burst.