Page 74 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

If I have to choose between this baby or Sam, I know which I’m choosing. It’s not even a question. I’ve worked too hard, andfor too long, not to take a miracle when it’s handed to me. The thought of letting Sam go makes my stomach twist, but that’s what it means to be a parent—to make sacrifices for your child.

“If you want to,” Dr. Chen says, “we could do an ultra-sound.”

“We can?”

“It might be too early,” she cautions, “but we might hear the heartbeat. Do you want to try?”

“Yes.”

She gathers the equipment, and I lie back on the exam table. When the cold gel hits my stomach, I close my eyes, letting out a breath.

My baby. In this moment, all the trying, disappointment, private, hurried tears—it all feels worth it. Dr. Chen places the wand on my stomach and moves it, her head turned to the screen, which is turned away from me.

It might be slow, it might be all at once, but a sound fills the room. It’s gentle, rhythmic. Steady and soft, like the quietest tapping against the window at night.

“There it is,” Dr. Chen says softly. “Strong heartbeat.”

When I have the pictures in my hand, I can’t stop tracing my finger over the little lump inside my body. The little thing that’s going to be my baby. My child.

I wait until I’m in the hallway, appointment finished, and follow-up scheduled, to break down completely, the sobs of joy so overwhelming I struggle for breath.

And then, when I look up, I see him. Sam, moving through the hospital’s lobby. He’s wearing a sweater and carrying a bouquet of flowers. For a split second, I think that he might be here to see me, that somehow, he might know. But he turns, going down a different hallway, and I stare after his back for a moment, feeling like I’m in a dream.

What is he doing here? Is everything okay?

As I follow him, I wonder distantly who the flowers might be for, but the thought is like a thundercloud on the horizon. Not nearly as important as my news. As his baby inside me, with a beating heart.

I’m going to tell him, and pray he still wants me the same with a baby on the way.

Sam

“Sam?”

My heart stops the moment I hear her voice. I know it’s Finn, but that doesn’t track. She exists in one world, and my dad in another.

I’ve just walked into his hospital room. His flowers are still in my hand. I’m looking at my father’s face, and I can almost hear him asking,You really didn’t think this woman was going to find out?

“Excuse me!” I hear someone say, and I finally do turn around. Finn has been crying—that much is evident from the tear trackson her face. But she doesn’t look upset. I stare at her for a moment, until a nurse arrives, putting his hand on her arm.

“Sorry,” he says to me, and then to her, “Miss? You can’t me in here.”

“It’s okay,” I hear myself say, though it feels like it comes from another universe. “She’s…with me.”

She is, but not. Finn shouldn’t be here. She takes another step into the room, her eyes skipping from the white board, which clearly reads out my father’s name, including that damningBraunat the end, then to him in the hospital bed.

“Sam, what…?” she asks, frowning and stopping a few feet from me.

“Hey,” I say, swallowing and setting the flowers on the table. It’s hard for me to focus. “Are you crying?”

“Who is this?” Finn asks, sharp as ever. I’m pretty sure she’s already figured out whothisis.

“My…dad,” I force out.

“I thought…”

We stand in silence for a moment while Finn stares at me. It’s not a lie. It’s not the truth. I know that the space in-between isn’t good though—it’s the space in which I told her I wanted her,then kept this from her. I’ve been purposefully avoiding the topic of my dad for the past six months so I wouldn’t have to lie to her about this. About one of the biggest things in my life.

The worst thing that ever happened to me. The worst thing that keeps happening to me, every day I come back here, and Dad is still like this.

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