heat, something it hasn’t done in weeks. God, how I miss him. “And how much I want your hands and mouth on me.”
He drops his mouth to pepper kisses along my collarbone. As he moves up my neck, he murmurs, “We’ve got five minutes until we have to leave.”
I thread my fingers through his hair, holding his head in place so he continues kissing me. “Yeah, but that’s really ten minutes because you’ve allowed for extra time. We could use the extra time to get naked.”
His kisses make their way to my mouth, and after he kisses me thoroughly, he says, “You sure about that?”
I know what he’s asking: Do I really want to have sex before our pregnancy test this morning when I’ve been committed to the doctor’s advice of not having sex during this two-week wait?
The answer to that isn’t black and white. While our doctor has given us this advice, I’ve read plenty of studies online that refute it. Some say sex is okay; some are all for it. I haven’t really felt like it, so it’s been an easy decision for me, but I’ve woken up wanting Winter in the way I haven’t for what feels like so long now.
“Fuck,” I mutter, placing my hands to his chest. “You’re right. We’ve come this far; we’re nearly there.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, and I hear all his regret in that one word. Taking a step back, he runs his eyes down my body, lighting me up even more. “I’m taking a raincheck. Tonight, if the doctor says we’re good to go.”
“It’s a date,” I say, leaving the vanity and kissing him one last time. “We better go.” This is the one appointment I’ve been ready super early for. And more anxious than ever for. My tummy has been a mess of nerves; this moment with him is the first time I’ve relaxed in days, but now that I’m thinking again about the pregnancy test we’re having soon, my nerves are back full force.
I grab my bag while Winter finishes locking up the house. Five minutes later, we’re on our way to the clinic and I feel nauseous.
What if we’re not pregnant?
How many cycles will it take to fall pregnant if we fail this time?
What if we are pregnant and there’s something wrong with the baby?
Oh God, what if I miscarry?
How will we keep affording IVF if we need to keep going back again and again?
“Birdie.” Winter’s hand lands on my thigh. “Stop thinking.”
I turn to him. “I can’t. Like seriously, my brain just won’t shut off.”
His gaze meets mine. “Talk to me. Tell me all your thoughts.”
I fan my face. “Jesus, it’s hot in here. Are you hot?”
He squeezes my thigh before reaching for my bottle of water. “Have a drink. It’s not hot; you’re panicking.”
He’s right. I am. After I drink some water, I say, “I feel sick. Like, I could throw up thinking about all the possibilities of what our life will look like after this test today. I just want to have a child and love that child.” My voice wobbles as I add, “It’s not too much to ask, is it? We’ll be good parents.”
“It’s not too much to ask. Let’s just get through this morning before worrying about the next step.”
“Why do you have to be so bloody practical all the time?”
He looks at me again, his amusement clear in his eyes. “One of us has to be.”
“Ugh.”
After he pulls into the clinic’s car park and parks the car, he curls his hand around my neck and pulls me close. “Whatever happens today, we’re going to be okay, angel.”
“I hope so,” I say softly.
“We’ve pulled through some rough shit, and if we have to do that again, we will. Together. Always fucking together.”
The fierceness in his words hits me in the chest. He’s right; we have pulled through some awful stuff in the past. I just need to cling to him if we get the worst news today.
Pressing my lips to his, I kiss him, showing him how much I love and appreciate him. Even if he is too damn practical for me sometimes. Smiling, I say, “Love, fight, battle, protect.” The Morrison way.
He returns my smile and nods. “Yeah.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go do this.”
The room spins as I fight for oxygen. Drawing breath in, though, is hard to do when you can’t focus enough on the process because every ounce of your being is completely focussed on processing news