Chapter 13

13

The bright lights of the exam room only make the dull headache I have throb stronger as a younger looking nurse named Erin helps me up from the wheelchair and onto the bed for the procedure. Doctor Katz sent me up to the Obstetrics floor to have an ultrasound-guided IUD removal because it wasn't in his realm of regular practice.

I pick at the skin around my nails, shifting back and forth on the paper table while I wait for the OBGYN. Here I thought I was bloated from too much salt and sick from eating leftover takeout. Nope, I'm pregnant.

With a baby.

Bowie's baby.

I always wanted to have kids, eventually. I can't tell you how many nights I laid in bed dreaming about the family and life I'd have one day. Y'know, the whole idealistic, cookie-cutter life plan- graduate from college, get a steady job, find a great guy, have a big wedding, then pop out a couple of kids- and in that order. A dislodged IUD baby with my one-night stand turned boss turned regular hookup was not on my bingo card.

Jesus, it sounds even more ridiculous when I lay it out like that.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I lie back slowly, staring blankly at the white tiles of the ceiling. What am I going to do with a baby? I'm not ready for this. I'm only twenty-three, I barely have my shit together on the best of days, and now I'm going to be responsible for a whole other person?! The room starts to spin, nerves churning my stomach as I squeeze my eyes shut, wincing at the way my ribs protest my feeble attempts at calming breaths.

Knuckles tapping lightly on the door catch my attention, followed by a gentle female voice calling out, "Knock, knock."

I squint my eyes open, propping myself up on an elbow and glancing towards the doorway where an older petite brunette stands in pastel pink scrubs. "I'm Doctor Stevens, and you've met Erin," she says, tipping her head to the tall blonde wheeling in an ultrasound machine. "There won't be any anesthesia for this, but you'll likely feel some mild discomfort, pinching, and pressure."

"That's fine," I respond as she snaps on a pair of rubber gloves.

Doctor Stevens guides my ankles into the stirrups, having me scooch to the edge of the table before I relax back and close my eyes again. She gives me more directions as she prepares for the procedure. Erin parts my gown, my body tensing as she squirts cold jelly on my bare skin and presses the ultrasound wand to my stomach. The warbly sound coming from the machine is like ASMR and I start to zone out.

My mind goes off the rails with a chain reaction of thoughts. I start to imagine myself with a big belly or a tiny human wailing in the middle of the night from a crib in the corner of my room at Drea's- shit, Drea. I need to let her know what happened or she'll be beating down Trey's door looking for me.

Trey.

A short burst of panic constricts in my chest as I start to do the math. Six weeks pregnant… I've been at Vento for a little over a month, and I started there a couple weeks after my rebound hookup when I caught Trey cheating… but we'd been in a dry spell since I graduated in May. I try to work out the timeline, but between my erratic heartbeat pounding in my ears and the nerve wracking silence from the doctors, it's pretty hard to think. But I'm almost certain; the baby has to be Bowie's.

Bowie.

I don't even know if he wants kids; that could've been a topic we broached tonight at dinner with the erratic pace of our relationship so far. His face was so hard to read when the doctor broke the news, that stoic mask of his fell and one of bewilderment took its place. We didn't even get a minute to ourselves to absorb the news because as soon as Doctor Katz dropped that bomb on us, a nurse was right behind him, ready to get me up here for the procedure.

"Okay, deep breath for me, Wren," Doctor Stevens' voice coos as she pats the inside of my ankle. "You're gonna feel that pressure and pinch. On the count of three, I want you to cough and we'll be all done, okay?"

I hum in response, taking as deep a breath as I can while she counts. I cough on three and my throat burns, my stomach cramps, knees snapping together as I groan at the wave of foreign pain that washes over me.

But then it's done, and the pressure disappears like it never even happened.

Erin starts to clean off my stomach and fixes my gown while Doctor Stevens pulls the paper blanket down over my knees. "All done, sweetie." I press up to sit as she continues. "You might have some discomfort or spotting, but that's totally normal. If the bleeding becomes frequent or heavier like a menstrual cycle, or if you have a stabbing-like pain, get ahold of a doctor. But the fetus has a steady heartbeat, so I don't see any reason for concern."

"Okay." I rake a hand through my hair, trying to take it all in as Erin helps me off the table and back into the wheelchair.

The anxiety of facing Bowie whirs to life in my stomach like someone's kicked over a hornets nest, a lump forming in my throat as she wheels me back toward the elevator.

"Oh. My. God!" Drea practically shouts down the corridor as we near my room for the night.

"Wren! Are you okay? Your face!"

"You should see the other guy," I manage wryly as Erin helps me get back into the bed.

Once I'm settled, Drea takes up a spot on the edge of the mattress, folding a leg beneath her as her face assures me that I look as bad as I feel.

"I was gonna text you, but I'm honestly not sure where my phone is," I say, reaching for the cup of water to take a drink.

"Dallas called," she supplies, flipping her phone over and back in her hands. "He told me you were attacked by creepy Allen and that I could find you here, but shit." She hisses a breath in through her teeth, wincing. "I didn't expect you to look this bad."

"Gee thanks," I reply with a sardonic laugh.

She rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean! But really, are you okay? When can you leave?" She hooks a thumb over her shoulder, "I parked in the short-term lot, but I can move if it'll be more than an hour.

"So… I'm fine," I start, not really sure how to deliver this news to my best friend other than by just ripping the band-aid off. "But I have to stay overnight for observation because I'm… I'm pregnant."

Drea's eyes round in shock. "Shut the fuck up!" Her mouth hangs open as she darts her gaze between my face and flat stomach. "You are not!"

I twist my hands in my lap and nod. "I am. One hundred percent knocked up."

"No!" she gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. "Is it Bowie's?"

Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I think back through the timeline again and there's no doubt in my mind. The math just maths.

"Yeah, it has to be," I mumble.

"Oh my god, what does he think?!"

My shoulders lift in a shrug, fingers toying with the hem of the white cotton blanket while red hot tears prick at the backs of my eyes. "We haven't had a chance to talk about it yet."

"Oh, babe!" Drea chirps, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around me. "I've got you, girl. I'm sure it'll all be fine."

"Thanks," I sniffle into her shoulder, thankful that she can read all my reservations and fears without me having to actually say them out loud.

"And if he doesn't support you and your choices," she presses back to look me in the eyes, her face splitting in a mischievous grin, "I'll slash his tires."

"I'll take that under advisement," I hear the deep timbre of Bowie's voice call out.

Drea releases my shoulders, turning and eyeing Bowie as his imposing form fills the doorway, a large black take-out sack with jute handles in his grip.

"Hey," I greet, my voice cracking. "I guess you guys haven't formally met." I motion between them, "Bowie, this is Drea, my best friend. Drea, this is my, uh, Bowie."

He strides across the room with confidence, pausing near the foot of the bed and outstretching his free palm to her. "It's a pleasure."

She pushes up from the bed, lifting a dubious brow as she takes his hand and gives it a shake. "Likewise." She glances over her shoulder at me and her lips tip up in a smile. "I'll let you guys talk. Call me in the morning?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Thanks for coming."

"Duh, girl. It's what besties are for." Blowing me a kiss, she starts towards the door, slowing beside Bowie and whispering, "I meant what I said," before disappearing into the hall.

I shake my head as Bowie takes her place on the bed, lifting the take-out bag. "How ‘bout that date now, Bella?"

A warmth creeps across my skin at him calling me beautiful. It's certainly the last thing I feel right now. "Yeah, I'd like that," I say with a sheepish grin.

He swivels the bed tray and starts arranging an assortment of containers from the black bag between us. "I wasn't sure how you'd be feeling, so I got a variety," he says, pulling the lid off a container of soup and unwrapping a bundle of sliced baguette.

My mouth waters and stomach growls at the savory scent when I realize I haven't eaten since breakfast. "You didn't have to do all this."

He pins me with a hard look. "My girl deserves more than a pre-packaged deli sandwich and a pudding cup from the cafeteria."

My girl.

I drop my head, eyes trained on my hands as I pick at the skin around my nails. The tears I thought I'd pushed away are threatening to fall again. It's such a small gesture from Bowie, and maybe it's the stress of the day or hormones already toying with my emotions, but hearing him verbalize his claim on me has me swooning.

Bowie curls his fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face up to meet the unusually soft look in his hazel eyes. The pad of his thumb traces my bottom lip as the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Especially if she's carrying my child."