Page 135 of Branded
“The babies are okay,” I said.
The obstetrician on call had just left, wheeling the ultrasound machine away with her. Two babies. Two heartbeats. Placentas okay. The amniotic fluid in both sacs was good. The babies’ growth was on target. In fact, they were measuring like singleton babies, rather than on the twin size chart.
So that spoke to my stretch marks…and many more to come.
Pru moved in close, squeezed my hand. “I’m glad.” Her free hand smoothed lightly over my cheek. “And I’m glad you are, too.”
This woman was almost unrecognizable to me.
Pru had been so…so self-contained…until the man who walked in behind her had entered Pru’s life. There was concern in Marcel’s pretty eyes, and his big body dwarfed Pru’s—even though I was no shrinking violet myself—considering that I’d played hockey for years and had the strength and body time to show it.
No wonder the babies were measuring big.
Between Marcel and Pru, I was cooking two future hockey players.
“Beth.”
I glanced over Pru’s shoulder, met Marcel’s gaze. “You good?” he asked.
“The babies are fine,” I whispered, my eyes sliding down to the bed.
“Beth,” he said again.
My gaze slid back.
“You good?” A slight emphasis on you that warmed me in almost the same way that Pru’s concern had, reminding me that Marcel had become dear to me, that he’d been making a home for himself on the ground floor of my life, that he was important.
I nodded. “I’m good.”
Pru squeezed my hand again.
“I’m sorry to scare you.” A breath, trying to speak through the sharp strikes of guilt. “The doctor says my blood pressure is low, and that’s why I’ve been dizzy. I just need to take it easy, drink more water, and ditch my tight clothes so the babies are getting enough blood and nothing is cutting off my circulation.” I forced a smile. “Not that I’d be wearing them much longer anyway.” A pat to my rounded stomach. “Not with this belly growing more by the day.”
“You love your skirts,” Pru said softly.
I did.
And my heels.
But those were out, too. Unsteady feet and legs didn’t need me to be on four-inch heels.
“The plus is I get to go shopping.” Now my smile wasn’t forced. “Which, as you know, is one of my favorite things.”
Pru grinned. “I’ll hold your purse while you’re in the dressing room.”
I clutched my hands to my chest, fluttered my lashes. “Like a true best friend.”
“Surviving torture?” Pru teased.
“Picking out kickass outfits for her favorite wingwoman.”
Another squeeze. “That, too.”
I covered my hand then peeled it gently away. “It’s late,” I said. “I know Marcel is off tomorrow, but you’ve got to get ready for your trip. You should go to bed.”
“I’m staying.” No argument, no discussion.
Not that I would expect anything different from my friend.
