I take a deep breath, the nerves easing just a little.
“Tell me about him,” he says.
I freeze. “Who?”
He chuckles. “Enzo, the love of your life. Tell me what he’d be doing if he were here, and I’ll do it. Even if it means kissing you.” He winks as he says the last sentence, and I can’t help but smile just a little.
“He’d be a wreck, but he wouldn’t let me know. He’d be calm, all business. He’d have me hold his hand like you are doing. He’d talk to me and distract me. Maybe ask me what names we should call the baby. He thinks it’s a boy. I think it’s a girl.”
“Oh, yea? Well, what names do you have in mind?”
“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it much.” Mainly because I can’t imagine naming my child without Enzo. And there are too many dead people I should honor to include them all in the child’s name.
“How about Jamie?”
“No.”
“Beatrice?”
“No.”
“Greta?”
“No,” I laugh. “You are horrible at this.”
His eyes go to the door of the clinic. Apparently, he is not horrible at distracting me, though, because we are here. He jumps out of the car and has my door open and my hand in his again as he helps me out of the car. I lean on him as we walk to the check-in at the clinic.
“I called twenty-minutes ago to let you know Katherine was coming in,” he says.
“If you will just have a seat—”
“No, we will not be having a seat. We would like to see a doctor, now,” Beckett says. He towers over her, giving her a look that says either you show us to an exam room right now or I will burst through the wall myself.
It works.
The woman nods and leads us through a hallway to exam room three. There are only three exam rooms in this entire clinic I realize.
Beckett helps me ease into a chair, before kneeling next to me still holding my hand.
I’m covered in sweat, I feel like I’m burning up, I’m lightheaded, and my stomach feels heavy like a thousand pounds of brick are weighing me down.
“How was I? Did I measure up to Enzo?” he asks.
“Yes,” I nod.
“Good, now what would he do?”
“He would give them sixty-seconds to get a doctor in here before he would open the door and drag the nearest doctor inside against their will and threaten their lives if they don't treat me immediately.”
Beckett looks at his watch. “Sixty-seconds starts now.”
I purse my lips as I exhale. I’m still holding Beckett’s hand. I can’t believe I ever doubted him. He’s a good man. I get the same feelings as when I held Zeke or Langston’s hand. But nothing more.
In some ways, I wish I would get even the tiniest bit of tingle in my fingers touching his hand. Some sort of spark. Anything. Not because I want to start dating right now, I don’t. I’m not over Enzo. I will never be over Enzo. But just to know I could rebuild my life with someone would give me hope.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say, still staring at our hands.