Crush - Kelsie Rae Page 0,39

them. But today, in this room, I’m seconds from losing it.

I should’ve had this moment too, but it was stolen from me.

What would our baby have been? A little boy? A little girl? It was too early to tell, but I’d give anything to know.

Clearing my throat, I blink away my unshed tears and focus on the monitor.

There.

“Do you see this?” I point to the screen. “These three little lines?”

They both lean a little closer to get a better look at the fuzzy black and white image in front of them.

“Yes?” Anthony answers after a few seconds, though it comes out like a question. “What do they mean?”

“They mean you’re having a baby girl.”

Sways eyes crinkle in the corners as she continues to stare at her baby’s blurry silhouette while covering her mouth with her hand. The tears flow freely now as Anthony rests his chin on her shoulder and beams at the monitor in front of him.

“Do you hear that, Swayze Girl?” he murmurs. “We’re gonna have a baby girl.”

Sway nods again, sniffing softly before mingling it with a breath of laughter.

“A baby girl, Sway. A healthy baby girl,” he repeats, though I’m not sure if he’s trying to grasp the concept himself or relay it to his wife.

“I just…I can’t believe it’s real,” she finally whispers in disbelief. “I never thought––”

“I know, Swayze Girl. I know,” Anthony chokes out, trying to maintain his composure. Still, the overwhelming sense of his gratitude and uncertainty is stifling, yet contagious too.

Pivoting in his arms, Sway grabs onto her husband and sobs. She tries to muffle her cries in his chest, but it’s no use. Her back heaves with shallow breaths, and her knuckles turn white at his sides.

The sound triggers a reaction so deep and painful that I’m nearly brought to my knees. Sway should’ve had this moment years ago. Anthony should’ve too.

Which means one thing. This moment…. It’s a miracle.

Yet all I feel right now is a gut-wrenching loss. Because I should’ve had this moment too.

With my wife.

But she’s gone.

And she’s never coming back.

Tears threaten to slip past my defenses as my arm hangs limply at my side when delicate fingers brush against the back of my hand. Surprised, I look down to find Marcy tangling her fingers with my own before she squeezes softly.

And I grab on for dear life, returning the gesture with another squeeze and a shaky breath. The sacrifice she’s willing to make for someone else is staggering. And even though she’s witnessing this moment, I’m not sure if she’ll ever fully understand the gravity of her sacrifice and how deeply grateful Anthony and Sway will forever be to her.

The room stays silent with the occasional quiet sob, sniffle, and stilted breath before Marcy breaks it with a gasp.

“Sway, come here,” she orders, scrambling to untangle our fingers. “She’s kicking.”

Sway is at Marcy’s side in the blink of an eye before Marcy reaches for Sway’s hand and pushes it into the goo on her stomach. “Right here.”

Cautiously, Anthony steps beside his wife. Then they wait.

And wait.

Brows furrowed, Marcy moves Sway’s hand to the opposite side of her stomach then encourages her to push a little harder.

Seconds later, Sway gasps. “I can feel her. Anthony. Come here. Put your fingers right here.” She replaces her hand with his. “Now, wait. She’s right here.”

His forehead wrinkles with concentration as he waits for his little girl to say hello. And again, I feel like I’m intruding but keep my feet planted in place.

After another few seconds, she must kick him because his entire face lights up like the Fourth of July. The triumphant grin reminds me of all the prideful dads at a sporting event. It brings a smile to the rest of our faces as Anthony whispers, “You gonna be a soccer player, Little Miss? Or maybe you’ll take after your mom and trip over your own feet.”

She smacks him in the shoulder. “Hey! Don’t you go spreading lies to our daughter, mister.”

“Lies?” he challenges.

Laughing, she kisses him on the cheek, and they continue their banter while taking turns feeling their little wiggle worm beneath their fingertips.

Marcy stays quiet, watching their interaction with a soft smile that makes my pulse race a little faster. She has no idea how crucial she is to their happiness, and I think it’s more genuine that way.

When a gentle knock raps against the door, our heads swivel in its direction before Tracey’s apologetic face comes into view. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but