Page 38 of City of Wind and Lies

My hands cup his face as I pull him closer, slamming my mouth against his. His lips part in surprise and I can taste his hesitation before he deepens the kiss.

Screw talking and defining us over dinner, I want him now. He came here for me, that has to mean something.

I wince slightly as he threads his fingers into my hair and his teeth scrape my bottom lip, but there's no part of me that minds the pain when Bowie’s the reason behind it. Our lips move in equal hunger as my fingers dig into his cheeks. I don’t need him to apologize for something outside of his control or reprimand Dallas. In this moment, all I need is his reassurance that this isn’t temporary or a mistake, that being here is his choice and that I’m his choice.

"Knock, knock," a man in teal scrubs calls out from the doorway, and Bowie jerks back, breaking our kiss.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Katz," the man says as he steps closer, casting a nervous glance at Bowie.

"How are you feeling..." his eyes shift down to the clipboard in his hands, "Wren?"

"Been better," I croak out, hand reaching up to rub my throat.

Bowie twists at the waist to grab a dusty pink pitcher from a side table and pours me a glass of water. He shakes his head 'no' as I try and reach for the cup, instead holding the plastic straw to my lips.

The water is cool as it slides down my throat, temporarily soothing the burning sensation. Bowie sets the cup down for me, taking my hand back in his.

"Good, good. So," Doctor Katz continues, flipping through the pages. "Your head CT doesn't show signs of bleeding or swelling, which is great. The contusions on your ribs, face and throat seem to be superficial and shouldn't cause any long-term damage."

"When can she leave?" Bowie asks, face stoic as his thumb rubs a gentle circle on the back of my hand.

"Well, normally she'd be clear within an hour but, with the loss of consciousness and the baby, we'd like to keep her overnight for observation and to remove the dislodged IUD."

Bowie's motions still, that impenetrable mask of his cracking as his mouth goes slack. My heart lurches into my throat as my eyes widen at the doctor. "Baby?" I squeak. I couldn't have heard that right.

"I take it you didn't know?" He lifts another page on his stupid clipboard before looking back at me. "Well, Congratulations, Miss James. You're about six weeks along."

13

The bright lights of the exam room only make the dull headache I have throb stronger as a younger looking nurse named Erin helps me up from the wheelchair and onto the bed for the procedure. Doctor Katz sent me up to the Obstetrics floor to have an ultrasound-guided IUD removal because it wasn’t in his realm of regular practice.

I pick at the skin around my nails, shifting back and forth on the paper table while I wait for the OBGYN. Here I thought I was bloated from too much salt and sick from eating leftover takeout. Nope, I'm pregnant.

With a baby.

Bowie's baby.

I always wanted to have kids, eventually. I can’t tell you how many nights I laid in bed dreaming about the family and life I’d have one day. Y'know, the whole idealistic, cookie-cutter life plan- graduate from college, get a steady job, find a great guy, have a big wedding, then pop out a couple of kids- and in that order. A dislodged IUD baby with my one-night stand turned boss turned regular hookup was not on my bingo card.

Jesus, it sounds even more ridiculous when I lay it out like that.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I lie back slowly, staring blankly at the white tiles of the ceiling. What am I going to do with a baby? I’m not ready for this. I’m only twenty-three, I barely have my shit together on the best of days, and now I’m going to be responsible for a whole other person?! The room starts to spin, nerves churning my stomach as I squeeze my eyes shut, wincing at the way my ribs protest my feeble attempts at calming breaths.

Knuckles tapping lightly on the door catch my attention, followed by a gentle female voice calling out, "Knock, knock."

I squint my eyes open, propping myself up on an elbow and glancing towards the doorway where an older petite brunette stands in pastel pink scrubs. "I'm Doctor Stevens, and you've met Erin," she says, tipping her head to the tall blonde wheeling in an ultrasound machine. "There won't be any anesthesia for this, but you’ll likely feel some mild discomfort, pinching, and pressure."

"That's fine," I respond as she snaps on a pair of rubber gloves.

Doctor Stevens guides my ankles into the stirrups, having me scooch to the edge of the table before I relax back and close my eyes again. She gives me more directions as she prepares for the procedure. Erin parts my gown, my body tensing as she squirts cold jelly on my bare skin and presses the ultrasound wand to my stomach. The warbly sound coming from the machine is like ASMR and I start to zone out.

My mind goes off the rails with a chain reaction of thoughts. I start to imagine myself with a big belly or a tiny human wailing in the middle of the night from a crib in the corner of my room at Drea's- shit, Drea. I need to let her know what happened or she’ll be beating down Trey's door looking for me.

Trey.

A short burst of panic constricts in my chest as I start to do the math. Six weeks pregnant… I've been at Vento for a little over a month, and I started there a couple weeks after my rebound hookup when I caught Trey cheating… but we'd been in a dry spell since I graduated in May. I try to work out the timeline, but between my erratic heartbeat pounding in my ears and the nerve wracking silence from the doctors, it’s pretty hard to think. But I’m almost certain; the baby has to be Bowie's.

Bowie.

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