Thud. Thud.
The heartbeat is the first thing I hear, and I turn my head farther, wanting to get a clear view of the screen.
“There’s your baby,” the nurse says, pointing to the screen. The doctor drawing blood from me pulls the needle out of my vein and I flinch, snapping me back to what he’s doing.
Thud, thud, thud.
“And there’s the other one!” The nurse smiles at the screen.
My eyes swing up to the little monitor.
Madison’s face falls. “What?”
The nurse points again. “Two babies in different sacs. They won’t be identical, so it could be a boy and a girl. Lucky.” The nurse was young, and if I’m guessing, she and the doc have a thing going on. The chemistry between them is hot, spicy even. I could reach out and touch it.
“No!” Madison yells, shaking her head. “Two? Oh my God, no!”
“Madison, hey, it’s okay,” I say, and once the doctor is finished up with me, I make my way to her.
I feel her calm as I sit beside the couch and lay my hand on her arm.
She searches my eyes, tears falling down the corners. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you look like him at times and I wish—”
I squeeze her arm. “It’s going to be fine.” I couldn’t tell her that I was internally screaming with the fact she was going to have twins. The birth alone would terrify me.
The nurse continues, “You’re safe to have the extraction. Would you like to do it here or the doctor can take you into a bedroom?”
“Here,” Madison whispers, her hand on mine. “Here is perfect.”
After the mini-hospital has packed up, I close the door behind them and keep my eyes on Madison, who still seems to be freaking out in the lounge. She has her phone pressed to her ear as she talks to someone. I hear her say dad, so I decide to give her some privacy, moving into the kitchen to find something to eat. Amongst the chaos of getting here, I forgot to eat. I find fresh fruit and sliced deli meat. I take them out and place some grapes on a plate with shaved ham, grabbing a bottle of water and moving to the kitchen table. Opening my phone, I find a text from Bishop.
Bishop: How is she?
I want to yell at him and tell him that they’re both being stubborn and ridiculous. Now that I’ve met her and I’ve seen how affected she is by their separation, from the outside looking in, it doesn’t logically make sense. They love each other with such ferocity it could burn, so why aren’t they using that same violent passion to stay together? They’re both clearly tenacious in their ways.
Saint: About as good as you.
He doesn’t reply, and I open Tillie’s message thread. She’s yelling at me. I’m not surprised. I send her off an I love you text and leave it as that.
Tillie: I think you were put on this earth to stress all of us out.
No text from Brantley. Closing her message, my finger hovers over his name. Every time the cushion of my finger touches the screen, my heart beats so loud I almost can’t hear anything else. Unsure of what to even say, I choose something simple.
Saint: I’m sorry.
I don’t know why that’s all I could think of to say, but I felt I needed to say it. I don’t mean to stress him, or anyone, but I realize I do put a lot of unwanted tension on Brantley.
The message bubbles light up. And then stop. And then light up again before my phone dings, just as I pop a grape into my mouth to stop my guts from spilling out from all the nerves.
Brantley: For which part?
Saint: You’re still mad.
Brantley: Yup.
Saint: What can I do to make you forgive me?
When he doesn’t reply right away, I pick at my food. Madison is still on her phone, walking back and forth furiously, sobbing and running her hand over her forehead. I feel bad. I want to console her, but I also don’t want to interrupt.
My phone vibrates, and I pick it up, throwing another grape in my mouth.
I stop chewing. 1 new MMS. An image pops up and I’m suddenly staring right at Brantley’s cock. His hand is wrapped around the base. Tanned, thick and angry, with all of the dangers pierced down his shaft. My mouth waters, my eyes sting. The leather bangle on his wrist sits over his hip, his jeans pulled down and his Calvin Klein briefs tucked behind. Six ladders, and one Prince Albert on the tip. Wow. I think this is the first time I’ve been able to really appreciate the beauty of him. Is that normal? Is a dick even supposed to be attractive? Because Brantley’s is. So tight, heavy, built like a man.