Reclaimed (Powell Sanctuary #5)

Chapter 22

22

Isla

Me:

How many dogs live at your dog rescue?

Aiden:

Currently Jude has fifteen. We have twelve more that are looking for their forever homes

Me:

I should get a dog

Aiden:

You can get a dog any day you want, starshine

Me:

Can we go this weekend?

Aiden:

typing

Aiden:

typing

Aiden:

typing

Aiden:

Of course

The device feels heavy in my hand. My leg bounces at an unnatural speed. I run my thumb over the screen, trying to come up with another question.

This clinic waiting room feels suffocating. They’ve turned off the air for summer and with all the windows shut tight, it’s hot and uncomfortable. My skirt sticks to my thighs against the chair, surely to leave a visible crease when I stand. Despite the falling temps, I still like wearing the flowy fabric. The stretchy waistbands are perfect for accommodating my growing baby bump and the occasional breeze between my legs keeps me cool. Nobody warned me pregnancy is this hot.

I cross one ankle over the other and sigh. I should have asked Aiden to be here. I thought about it this morning but my stubbornness won out. Even though we’ve told his entire family that he’s the dad, he is, in fact, not the father. When he signed on for this fake dating thing, he had no idea there was a third wheel hanging around. One that’s nearly impossible to ignore.

He's managed with ease, of course. He’s Aiden Powell. That carefree, easygoing man I remembered. His family might think they need to keep an eye on him, but I’ve been in his presence often over the last six weeks, and I don’t see the cause for concern.

That might be because I find the little bit of melancholy extremely attractive. The recent plunge into a sexual relationship isn’t helping the cause.

I tighten my thighs. Shit. Not now.

But sitting here alone, seeing the women with their partners whispering excitedly about what’s to come, I miss him. His presence is a grounding force I could use during this anticipation.

I still haven’t felt the baby move, and I’m terrified that the minute that wand touches my stomach, they’re going to deliver horrible news. News I don’t know how I’d endure alone.

I just wish I had his hand to hold. His warmth. His touch. His scent. His whispered words of reassurance.

But like I told myself this morning, I have to do this alone.

The door across from the receptionist opens, the slow click and whirr of the automatic function making it feel like forever passes before a woman in maroon scrubs steps into the room.

“Isla Fitzgerald?”

A lump swells in my throat. Slinging my purse strap over my head, I hesitantly approach. “Hi.”

“Looks like you’re here for a twenty-week anatomy scan?” She smiles kindly and gestures me through the door.

“I am.” The shake in my voice stops me from saying more.

“Right this way. We’re down the hall and on the right.”

The doors whirr shut behind us. Several steps away a sudden loud thud has me turning around. A hand attached to a tan arm wedges between the doors, pulling them open a crack enough for the rest of the person to slip through. My breath leaves me in a whoosh, relief rippling through me.

Aiden’s here.

“Sorry I’m late,” he rumbles. Catching up to my frozen state, he slips his fingers through mine. Those blue eyes blaze with an unveiled message. “Almost missed it.”

“Is this the dad?” the tech interrupts, her tone both surprised and suspicious.

I plaster on a too-bright smile. “Yep, this is him. I thought he had to work.”

“Surprise.” Aiden murmurs against my shoulder. The kiss he presses there has heat flowing through me that has nothing to do with the pregnancy hormones and everything to do with hormones of a different kind.

Like a gray cloud after a rainy day, my earlier apprehension melts into the background.

We’re led into a dim room with a bed in the middle beside the ultrasound machine. A white sheet covers the top and a folded blanket sits near the foot.

“Isla, you can lie down. Daddy, feel free to take a seat or you can stand beside her, whichever you prefer.”

At the word daddy , Aiden’s fingers contract around mine, almost involuntarily. “Where do you want me?”

I lick my lips. “Standing. Please.”

“I’m just going to tuck this towel into the band of your skirt to protect it, and if you could roll your shirt up above your stomach, yes like that.” The tech issues instructions and gets straight to work. The goo she squirts on my stomach is warm, yet I shiver. She picks up the wand, and I twist my neck the other direction.

“I’m scared,” I whisper urgently to Aiden. My heart feels like it’s going to pump straight out of my chest. His eyes meet mine, those beautiful blue irises shimmering in the dark. I can’t help but stare and some of my distress eases.

“Hold my hand, starshine.” His grip tightens around mine. “Don’t let go.”

“Will you watch?”

“I’ll tell you when to look.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Strong fingers slip through my hair, combing through the strands. The rhythmic tug is soothing to my nerves.

“Ready?” the tech asks.

“Go ahead,” Aiden instructs. Unwavering attention follows the tech moving the wand to my skin. The second I feel the cool instrument touch, he reverts his gaze back to the screen.

“Whoa,” he says quietly. “That’s so cool.”

“What is it?” I whisper urgently.

Keeping his hands where they are—one on my head and the other gripping mine—he crouches at my side.

“I can see the baby.” His voice is filled with awe. “It actually looks like a baby.”

“Is it… is it moving?”

In the bright glow of the machine, I can easily see the glisten in his eyes. He sniffs and clears his throat. “Take a look for yourself, starshine.”

The gentle prod is all I need for confirmation. Aiden wouldn’t tell me to look if it wasn’t safe for me to do so. The trust I feel for him in this moment is immense and all-consuming. I just catch him brush a brief knuckle under his eye before I turn my head in the other direction.

At the image of my baby on the screen, my breath catches.

“Here’s baby’s fingers.” The tech moves the wand and a full hand comes into view. “All ten fingers and toes.”

The machine clicks and beeps at my side, but I’m no longer paying attention to her. I’m enthralled at my sweet baby rolling and waving on the screen.

“Did it just hiccup?” I ask excitedly as the image gives a little bounce.

“It did,” she confirms. “And this here is the baby’s heart.”

A hole in the middle of the chest flickers on the screen. The tech turns some dials, and then a galloping, whooshing sound fills the room. I’ve heard it once before at my fourteen-week ultrasound, but it feels louder now. Stronger somehow. Even more real than before.

“Nice strong heartbeat,” the tech announces.

I grip Aiden’s hand impossibly tighter. “Did you hear that? Our baby has a strong heartbeat.”

“I did,” his voice is gruff. And it hits me then. I said our baby. I’m acting, I tell myself. It’s for the technician’s benefit. Deep down inside, I know with how blurry the line has become, it’s a lie.

“Do you want to know the gender?” The moment is broken by her question. More goo is added to my skin, and she spreads it around with the wand.

“Yes. Please.”

“Let’s see if this little one cooperates.”

I crush Aiden’s fingers in a bruising grip. Part of me is attempting to cover my blunder. Really, I’m just excited to find out what I’m having.

“There.” The wand stops moving and she points at the screen. “These are the legs and right here in the middle—”

“That’s a boy,” Aiden murmurs.

I turn to face him, my smile stretching my cheeks high. “It’s a boy.”

He leans down and presses his lips to mine. “It’s a boy,” he repeats against my mouth. Sliding my hand into his hair, I pull him back down. Emotion explodes from me and tears leak from the corners of my eyes. They land in my hair and drip down the curve of my nose, falling onto Aiden’s lips.

“Baby…” he hums. “Happy?”

“More than I could have ever imagined.”

That’s all I need to say. Our audience is oblivious to our arrangement, but I know Aiden captures the gist of my words. I expected to do this alone, and fake or not, I’m fortunate to have him here.

His thumb brushes the wet trail from my skin. “He’s going to be the luckiest boy in the world.”

I hope so. And I’m starting to think maybe I won’t have to do this by myself. There might be a chance for us after all.