Page 61 of Beautifully Reckless

It makes no sense.

Should I care?

Probably.

Is this just another heartbreak waiting to happen?

Most likely. Nothing good lasts, right?

But maybe… just maybe, the good things, no matter how fleeting, are still worth having.

“Let’s listen to the heartbeat,” the sonographer cuts through the emotions swarming through my head, and I don’t even get a chance to respondbefore the room fills with a fast-paced, rhythmic thump-thump-thump.

Holy shit! That’s my baby. That sound! It’s my baby’s heartbeat!

A laughing-sob falls from me as Lexi wraps an awkward one-armed hug around me, pressing her cheek to mine. At the same time, Ringo gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and when I glance at him, there’s no mistaking the smile tucked beneath his bushy beard.

Happiness. Pure and raw.

Something I haven’t felt in so long, I almost don’t recognise it.

But it’s good, and this moment is everything.

It’s the confirmation I needed to solidify my decision to keep this baby.

I will have him or her.

I will raise this baby on my own, and never let myself dwell on how it came to be.

The sonographer does some technical stuff, taking measurements and letting me know that the gestation is around twenty-four to twenty-five weeks, but that bub is a little smaller than they’d like.

That turns into a discussion on prenatal vitamins, eating properly, and all the things I haven’t been able to do.

And just like that, the lightness drains from me.

I’ve already let my baby down. He or she is smaller than they should be.

Andrea and the sonographer keep chatting about my care, but I zone out, sinking under a feeling of self-doubt.

Am I really the right person to raise this baby? I’m already doing such a bad job.

“Can we have some privacy please?” Ringo’s voice cuts through my spiral, and my attention snaps back to what’s happening in the room.

His eyes are on me now, sharp, yet worried, and everyone in the room gets up and exits, leaving just the two of us.

“What’s happening inside that head of yours right now?”

I frown at his question.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You were glowing just a minute ago, Abs.” He wheels his seat closer, taking my hand between both of his. “Then it was like someone turned off the light in your eyes. Tell me what changed.”

I don’t want to say it.

I don’t want to give it breath, but shame creeps back in, familiar and cold.

“Angel. Don’t make me demand it.”

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