Page 94 of End Game
Holding my breath, I listen to the crackle of the machine as the doctor moves it around. And, finally, there it is. The steady beat of a heart.
It’s unmistakable—woosh-woosh-woosh—that sounds through the room is a heartbeat. Our baby’s heartbeat.
Tears stream down Layla’s face as she clutches my hand. I lock them together, entwining our fingers and squeezing hers back. We watch each other as the sound gently strums through the room like a lullaby.
With each beat, something rustles deep inside me. An overwhelming sense of responsibility, a fierce need to protect the little boy nestled inside her.
She blinks, the tears falling faster, and I realize it’s not just the baby I want to protect. It’s her too.
I watch her grin, then laugh, then look at me in amazement.
“Do you hear that?” she asks, sniffling. “It’s so loud.”
“He’s going to be a wide receiver,” I manage to say. “Listen to that. He’s a beast already.”
The doctor laughs, wiping the gel off the machine and from Layla’s stomach. “It sounds good and healthy. You can sit up now.”
I jump to my feet, helping her get situated. My efforts are rewarded with a smile.
“Everything looks and sounds good,” he says, picking up her chart. “Congratulations. You two are very lucky.”
I slide my gaze to the woman still holding my hand.
Maybe I am. Maybe I really am.
Layla
The keys clang against the table. My purse hits the floor, my shoes slide off my feet, and I hit the couch with a thud.
“You okay?” Branch laughs, sitting at the end of the sofa. He pulls my feet into his hands and rubs them. “Doctor’s office and drive-thru is all you can handle in one day, huh?”
“I’m so sleepy,” I say, my eyelids drooping closed. “I feel like a toddler that’s missed my nap.”
His hands swamp my feet, easily bending them at his will. It feels so good as he presses his thumb into the arch and releases all the stress that’s held there.
“Thank you for going with me today,” I say. “I appreciate it.”
“Thanks for letting me.” He works my feet back and forth, his leg starting to tap beneath me. “Can I talk to you about something, Sunshine?”
“Of course.”
Holding my breath, I feel his hands slow down until they’re eventually resting on top of my feet. I have no idea what he’s going to say and it makes me want to vomit.
Hearing the baby’s heartbeat was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done. It was a connection to the inside of me I had to go to the outside to get. Having Branch there, watching his reaction, was the sweetest part of all.
His eyes lit up like he was mesmerized, his hand clenching mine for all it was worth. I couldn’t tell if he was scared or shocked or overjoyed, and he didn’t mention it on the way home. He didn’t speak much at all. I pretended to sleep and he just drove, and with every mile that went by, I felt a little more unnerved.
He takes a deep breath. “What if . . . what if we were wrong?”
My heart skips two beats. “If you were wrong about anything, I wouldn’t be surprised. But me? I’m never wrong,” I joke, hoping to calm my nerves. It doesn’t work.
“I think you were this time.”
I open my eyes to see him watching me closely. It’s my favorite look on him, the one that’s as soft as it is tough. There’s a glimmer in his eye. The way he licks his lips makes me wonder if he’s nervous too.
“What’s wrong, Branch?”
“What if . . .” he shuffles in his seat. “We keep talking about things like it’s me and you. What if it isn’t me and you? What if there’s no me and you?”
