Ready For It (MacAteer Brothers #2) - M.L. Nystrom Page 0,15
knocked on the door and entered. Damn, how close to retirement was this guy? His thin, slightly stooped form and shuffling gait didn’t inspire a lot of confidence, but Bevvie trusted the man. The nurse followed him and pulled out the sock-covered stirrups.
He picked up the clipboard full of notes and squinted at it while his reading glasses stayed perched on his head. “Good afternoon, Miss Miser. How many times a day do you move your bowels?”
Bev warned me about his bedside manner. I grinned and acted cheeky to lighten my mood. Or maybe hide my fear. “Gee, doc. I usually get a few dinners and a bottle or two of wine before I share that kind of personal knowledge.”
By the confused look on his face, my joke fell flat. I didn’t try again and kept my comments to myself.
The next half hour was the most intimate and thorough doctor’s examination I’d ever had. There wasn’t a place on my body that didn’t get poked, prodded, touched, and measured. I had to joke with myself as I answered the questions he asked and the nurse typed the information on a portable computer cart.
“Do you have regular periods?”
“Yes.” But only at the end of sentences.
“Hemorrhoids?”
“No.” Not counting my pain-in-the-ass boss at school.
“Any history of diabetes in the family?”
“Not that I’m aware.” My family isn’t very sweet.
If I didn’t find any humor in something, I would melt into a big emotional ball of tears like the Wicked Witch of the West. What the fuck am I doing? A mom? Who in the hell do I think I am? I can’t do this. Bevvie is the mom. She’s great at it. How am I supposed to measure up when everything in my fucking life is shit?
“Hmmm. Seven weeks or so? Might be a little soon, but let’s see if we can hear it.” The nurse handed him a wand-looking thing while the doctor spread a wet, clear gel on my stomach.
“Hear what?”
“The heartbeat.”
Heartbeat? There’s a heartbeat already?
He pressed the wand into my lower abdomen and slid it around. The room became quiet except for a soft quooh-quooh-quooh. “There it is. Strong and steady. Right now the fetus is about the size of an egg. We’ll set up an ultrasound in a few weeks.”
His voice faded away, and my whirling thoughts stilled. The only sound I focused on was the heartbeat of my child.
My child!
In less than nine months, I would have another person in my life. One who would totally depend on me. One who would stay with me all day, every day. One I would be responsible to teach, nurture, and shape into an adult. One who would love me without condition. One who would never abandon me. Fuck, I’m going to be a mother!
Quooh-quooh-quooh.
Tears filled my eyes as I listened to the pulse of my new future. Fuck, when did I get to be such a fucking crybaby? I dashed them away with a flick of my fingers and nodded at whatever the doctor said.
“You okay, hon?” The nurse helped me up after the man wandered out of the room.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just a little… I’m…” God, where are my words?
She patted my arm in a show of empathy. I was sure she had seen and heard it all working here. “Overwhelmed?”
I looked her square in the eye and made a statement that rarely came from my mouth. “I think I’m happy.”
Owen raised his eyes to the thick gray clouds overhead. The summer humidity and falling temperatures of twilight meant an evening rain shower, and he’d timed it to finish the day’s work by when the first drop hit.
The owner picked out the octagonal design with built-in benches on the railings. Owen had showed him a different flooring pattern, where the slats were cut and laid in a Celtic knot, made even more noticeable by a different color stain. The time to complete the project had increased, but so did the pay.
Owen picked up a two-by-six board and glanced at the spot where the next piece would go. His chop saw started with the flick of a switch. He lowered his safety glasses before lining up the board and bringing the spinning blade down. The wood barely hissed as the saw cut clean through in one push. Owen took the fitted slat and slipped it into the open track. Perfect. Owen anchored it in with several deck nails and stood up to look at the finished flooring. Benches would go