Page 33 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy
“A little TMI, cowboy,” the doctor said. “But I suppose the Wolfs always want a good story to tell. This can be one more in your long family legacy.” She washed her hands before picking up a small piece of equipment and a bottle of what looked like gel.
And his tension was back.
“Your due date will be in late March.”
March. It was months away but still so soon. He’d be in the early stages of the tour. Far away. He’d need to take time off. Change his will. His beneficiary. The list grew in his head, and he almost missed what the OB said next.
“On the notes, it said you hadn’t yet had an appointment with an OB. Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”
“Can we?” they both asked at the same time. He was eager. Tinsley sounded more freaked out.
“You’re at around eleven weeks. Let’s listen and go from there.”
She helped Tinsley to lie down.
“This is a fetal doppler.” Tinsley’s fist balled at her sides and she stared up at the ceiling. Anders had tried to sit in the blue chair provided for significant others, not that Tinsley seemed to consider him that, but he was too edgy. He didn’t know what he expected, but when a fast-paced whooshing filled the room, reminding him of hummingbird wings, he lost the ability to breathe.
He stared at the exposed creamy tautness that was Tinsley’s abdomen. She held life inside of her. The life of their child. His vision went a little blurry, and he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.
It was real.
They were having a baby.
He was going to be a dad.
Chapter Ten
Tinsley sat inAnders’ truck, silent and staring at a vague midpoint on the horizon. A small, black-and-white photo she hadn’t wanted and hadn’t yet dared look at lay face down on her lap. She hadn’t been prepared to hear the heartbeat. She’d still been processing that she had a little stowaway on board who was going to take over her life when the doctor had asked her about bleeding.
She’d spotted off and on over the past couple of months, which was why she’d held out hope she wasn’t pregnant. The doctor had said that wasn’t uncommon, but she wanted to do an ultrasound to make sure the baby looked good and the implantation was successful. Tinsley had stared at the white textured tiles in the ceiling, imagining herself far away from this room and the doctor and her fate.
Anders had agreed to the ultrasound like it was a prize they’d won. She hadn’t paid much attention. It seemed dumb now, sitting in the truck, because she felt so many changes in her body, but somehow the baby’s heartbeat made everything seem so real.
She’d imagined the ultrasound would be on another day in another building when Anders was back on the tour, but no. Before she could gather her composure, cool gel was smeared low on her belly and a wand produced an image that Tinsley hadn’t turned her head to see, but Anders’ face had been as rapt as a pilgrim on a holy quest.
No one ever looked at me that way.
And that selfish, pathetic thought shamed her.
Anders was excited about the baby.
That was good news for the baby, right?
She was the problem. She wasn’t the woman lovingly stroking her stomach and looking blissfully into the future. She wasn’t posting her ultrasound on Insta.
She was barely holding it together.
They didn’t speak until they arrived back at the tasting room. Somehow she’d thought he’d take her back to the ranch for dinner—maybe even try to keep her there so that the little lady was off her feet and captive, like his ancestors had likely done.
Anders turned off the truck.
“You’re being awfully calm about this,” she said into the pulsing silence.
“About the baby?” He fiddled with his keys, and glanced at the back of the photo. “No. Not really.”
Somehow that made her feel better and worse at the same time. But really, what did she want him to do, yell? Rail against fate? She’d done enough of that for both of them. She was exhausted.
And she was a horrible person.
