“So mature, Jerk.”
The volume is turned up on the machine, and Sandra moves around my uterus until the baby’s heartbeat echoes throughout the room. It’s like music to my ears, and my eyes move toward the screen as I watch the images of what looks like a happy little baby cooped up inside.
“So, the baby is measuring correctly,” she tells us, typing in the measurements as she speaks.
Haden is staring at the screen, fixated on the baby. “Can you tell us what the sex is?”
“I sure can.” She smiles.
“Don’t tell him. I don’t want to know.” I shake my head.
“You can’t decide that for me.”
“Seriously, what the hell is your problem? You think I’m hormonal, what about you? You’re such an ass.”
Sandra pauses and looks at both of us. “So yes… no?”
“No,” I say at the same time he says, “Yes.”
I speak up again. “Absolutely not. If you want to know, then I’ll leave the room.”
“Not yet, Miss Malone. I just wanted to talk about the position. The baby is breech. However, there’s still time to turn.”
In a blind panic, I ask, “Is there anything I can do to help the baby turn?”
“Your obstetrician may be able to assist, but the best thing you can do is relax and enjoy the rest of the pregnancy.”
Any previous concerns about the sex of the baby don’t seem to be an issue anymore. She spends longer checking the baby and its progress, and I forget Haden is even in the room. I only remember he is here when he clears his throat. Something about the way he is amorously staring at the screen consumes me. He’s lost in a moment where his soul becomes an open book, and I see a man who is capable of loving this unborn child more than himself. It moves me, yet I break away from these thoughts. This line of thinking is dangerous because deep inside, my walls are breaking down, and he is the giant wrecking ball ready to do enormous damage.
It takes every part of me to turn away from this beautiful sight and move off the bed.
Haden reaches out his hand to help me, but stubborn old me refuses to touch him, and I almost fall off the bed.
“Jesus, can you seriously stop being so stubborn and allow me to help you?”
I hold onto my stomach as a small cramp hits.
“I told you. I don’t want anything from you. My goddamn mailman is more reliable than you,” I snap, unsure of where it’s coming from after such a special moment.
In his typical signature move, he runs his hands through his hair, disheartened. I am tired of arguing with him, and something tells me this is only the beginning. The two of us just can’t get along, it’s that plain and simple.
“I didn’t tell you that David, or as you call him, Mr. Sadler, is my stepdad because I don’t like anyone knowing.”
Thrown off by the change of subject, I attempt to listen rather than open my big fat mouth for once. Sandra gives us some time alone to gather our things and leaves the room to attend to another appointment.
“Today is the anniversary of my dad’s death.” He falls into a digestive silence, eyes staring at the screen where the picture of the baby remains frozen.
I’m never sure what to say in these circumstances, never having experienced the death of anyone close to me besides my grandparents. This is why Hallmark runs a successful business—they sell a card for every occasion when you have nothing appropriate to say.
I need a Hallmark quote right now.
“I’m sorry, Haden,” I apologize quietly.
His eyes focus on my stomach, then move toward my face. He’s like a little lost boy, the vulnerability and sadness weighing heavily in that one glance. I want to reach out to him, but I know it’s inappropriate. Instead, I keep my distance and try to offer some support by listening.
“He died when I was fifteen. A car accident,” he tells me in a low voice. “Presley, I run away from this because I’m scared I’ll never be the dad he was to me.”
I have no choice but to be nice now because I’m not a cold-hearted bitch. I hate the way my feelings toward him shift. I knew there was a reason why he acted like a jerk all the time. I just never expected it to be this.