Can't Let Go - By Michelle Brewer Page 0,58

to be alarmed about, sweetie.” The woman told her, probably noting the weight change from her last year’s visit.

“I’ve been pretty stressed out the last few months,” Abby added, as if this might explain it. They entered the exam room and Abby perched herself against the table.

“Well, stress can do all sorts of things to a woman’s body. Have you noticed any irregularities in your cycle?” she asked. Abby thought about it for the first time in months, her forehead creasing.

“I actually haven’t had one in a couple of months.” She noted, her head swimming just a little bit. How could she have not noticed missing her period?

The other woman looked up. “Maybe we should draw some blood—just as a precaution.”

“Not a problem,” Abby responded, still distracted. The woman left the room for a moment and returned with a vile. She tried not to watch as the woman stuck her with the needle. “Stress can cause women to miss periods, can’t it?”

“Oh yes—you’d be amazed at everything stress can do.” She finished with the blood. “I’m going to have you give us a urine sample too—just typical procedure, to rule out anything else.” Abby nodded, following the woman’s directions. When she returned to the exam room, she felt her cheeks beginning to flare. “The doctor will be right in to see you, dear.”

Of course, the doctor wasn’t right in to see her. Abby sat in the ridiculous paper gown going over all of the details in her mind—again, wondering how she could have not noticed a couple of missed periods. She hadn’t always had the most reliable schedule, but she had never really missed one.

She thought about the exhaustion. The nausea. She heard Jenny’s comment from last week, about her sudden growth in cleavage.

But it wasn’t possible!

Even as she thought it, though—she knew it was. She remembered the feel of his lips on hers, his hands on her body.

And instantly, the image of a child with thick dark curls and bright gray eyes conjured in her mind.

Logan.

It was only a matter of minutes before her thoughts were confirmed. The doctor entered the room, a bright smile on her face. “Well Miss Lewis—it looks like your fiancé and yourself have gotten a jump-start on beginning your family! You’re expecting!”

The room swam slightly, happiness spreading through Abby as she realized what was going on.

She was pregnant.

And it was, without a doubt, Logan’s child.

She felt her eyes flood with tears as she reached down and touched her stomach, a gentle bubble of laughter escaping her lips.

She was going to have a baby.

“Do you have any idea about how far along you might be?” The doctor asked.

“Around…maybe three months?”

“That’s a good place to start—why don’t we do an ultrasound? Just lay back here, and we’ll find out some dates for you.”

The gel was surprisingly warm as the doctor pressed the ultrasound wand to her stomach and began to move it around. Within moments, a loud, rhythmic heartbeat filled the room and Abby smiled wider as she stared at the monitor.

And then, just like that—there it was.

Her baby.

“There we go. Looks like you’re right on target—you’re just about eleven weeks along.” Abby stared at the image, her heart already filled with an unconditional devotion.

She was having Logan’s child.

Again, she thought of that night—the way they had given into passion completely, without hesitation. And she longed for him now, wishing that he could be here to share this moment with her.

“Why don’t I print out a few of these for you?”

“That would be great,” Abby told her, nodding dumbly.

They discussed her medical history, making sure there was no cause for concern, and her future prenatal care, but Abby could hardly even pay attention. Her mind was spinning so fast she could hardly keep up with it.

Long after the appointment was over, Abby found herself sitting behind the wheel of her car, unsure of what to do with herself.

Everything had changed.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, trying to figure out what to do next.

She knew she should call Logan. She knew she should tell him—that he had every right to know what was going on. Whether he wanted to be involved or not—he at least deserved to know what was happening.

She remembered the day of the funeral, when he had told her that he didn’t see children in his future. “Things change.” He’d told her.

What if he wanted nothing to do with the child?

She could understand. She had left him without so much as looking