Page 36 of The Final Faceoff
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands still resting on my shoulders. “No, it’s not.” He taps my chin. “Now, wipe your tears, take a deep breath, and let’s get this over with. You can have an emotional breakdown later—preferably somewhere that doesn’t involve a paper cover up.”
I let out a wobbly laugh and swipe at my cheeks. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”
“Deal.”
And just like that, I know I’m going to survive this. Maybe not gracefully, maybe not without a few more embarrassing moments, but with Leif here, I won’t completely fall apart.
“I’m here,” he repeats, squeezing my hand.
I drop my hands to my lap and swallow. “You know you’re allowed to have feelings about this too, right?”
He smirks. “I have plenty of feelings.”
“Yeah? And what are they?”
“He’s got decent lumbar support,” Leif says, shifting in his chair like he’s rating furniture for a living.
I groan. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. Bad chairs are a dealbreaker.”
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch despite myself. That’s the thing about Leif—he always knows when to cut through the spiral. When to say something so ridiculous that I forget my brain is on a runaway train toward absolute panic.
Before I can call him out on it, the door swings open, and a woman in a white coat steps inside, flipping through a chart. “Good morning,” she says, her voice warm and efficient. She looks up and smiles. “I’m Rosie, your technician. And you must be Hailey.”
I nod, my throat suddenly dry.
She turns to Leif. “And you are?”
“Leif,” he says easily, like he belongs here. Like he’s not sitting in a doctor’s office about to watch me have a very intimate experience with an ultrasound wand.
Rosie gives him a quick nod before turning back to me. “Well, I’m here so we can meet your little one for the first time.” She moves toward the ultrasound machine, adjusting a few settings. “Just a heads-up, since you’re around eight weeks, the baby is still really small. We won’t be able to see much—right now, it’s a blob and you can hear the heartbeat, just a little rhythm on the screen. But it’s there, and we’ll get a good look.”
My stomach twists. “Right. Okay. Heartbeat. That’s great.”
Rosie smiles like she’s heard that brand of barely contained hysteria before. “It really is. Early scans help us check on the heartbeat, confirm the due date, and make sure everything looks good.” She grabs a pair of gloves and snaps them on. “Since it’s still early, we’ll be doing a transvaginal sonogram today.”
I nod like I didn’t already receive that horrifying news five minutes ago.
“Have you had one before?” she asks gently.
I shake my head. “Nope. First time.”
“Well, it’s a little different than the external ultrasound most people picture. Instead of the probe moving over your belly, this one is inserted vaginally so we can get a clearer image.” She pats the exam table. “Go ahead and lie back, and we’ll get started.”
Lie back. Right. Because that’s what normal, functioning people do in this situation.
I shift, hesitating, my fingers gripping the crinkled paper sheet covering my lap. “Okay, but . . . like, how far are we talking?”
Rosie smiles kindly, adjusting the stirrups at the end of the table. “It’s designed to be comfortable, and I’ll guide you through everything. You’re in control the entire time.”
Comfortable. Right. I doubt that, but fine. I glance at Leif, who is sitting there watching me like this is any other Tuesday and not a moment that will forever live in my personal hall of humiliation.
His eyes meet mine, and something flickers in them—something soft and reassuring, like he knows I’m a second away from bolting and is prepared to physically hold me down if necessary.
He tilts his head. “You good?”
I let out a slow breath. “No. But let’s do this anyway.”
