8. Tabby

EIGHT

TABBY

F ebruary sailed into March with a new pattern for my life. I’d go to school, eat my food still being delivered via Nate’s grocery order that I’d pretend didn’t please me exceedingly, then I would ignore how his gaze constantly tracked me at work. How he had me take more and longer breaks and was always present. He hadn’t been like that before. He owned Walt’s and often showed up, but he let me run the bar. Now, he never let me work alone.

Never let me feel alone.

And that dangerous hope grew like wild flowers.

Especially when he had “his guy” come to take care of the mice situation. Unfortunately, I’d spotted some of the traps he’d set out—their job done well—and I’d spent a few nights tossing and turning. The evidence of my fatigue had shown, and Nate had known something was wrong. He’d, of course, bugged me about it all night until I confessed that I’d felt tiny little claws creeping over my arms and legs the previous few nights.

That was when the links to rentals started appearing, along with daily morning check-in texts.

The last time I’d felt so cared for was when my dad was still alive. When I’d had someone to take on the world for me.

So, it was Nate I called when I couldn’t calm down now. I’d woken up in a cold sweat this morning, knowing what I faced today, and hoped a shower would help. When it didn’t, I tried some ginger ale and crackers, but my hands trembled so bad, I could barely hold on to the drink.

I was due for my second ultrasound in an hour, and while I was technically a high-risk pregnancy because of my past history, there had been no reason to worry or need extra tests. My doctor had repeatedly assured me that what happened before was a complete fluke. A very unlucky and tragic accident.

But that didn’t help me.

Nausea churned in my stomach as memories bombarded me. Of this same appointment when my world had shattered. Danny hadn’t been able to attend the ultrasound, so I’d gone on my own.

Faced with the technician’s strained expression as she called for the doctors. The deafening silence when they turned off the monitor, unable to find a heartbeat. That cold dread settling into my bones as I realized my baby was gone.

And I’d been alone.

Curling into a ball on my bed, my entire body shaking with the force of my grief, I knew I couldn’t do that again. I couldn’t go through this appointment alone. I couldn’t face that same traumatic situation alone. If there was no heartbeat…I wouldn’t survive it.

I found my phone and called the person who had been the one constant in my life for years. If only I’d recognized that earlier.

“Tabby cat,” he answered cheerfully. “Didn’t expect you to be calling me so early. I figured you and the tadpole were still getting your beauty sleep.”

“Nate.” My voice broke on his name, and I thought I could hear a screech in the background, like chair legs scraping on the floor.

“What? Tabby? What’s wrong?”

His concerned tone made my breath catch in my throat as I tried to explain. “I c-can’t… The ultrasound…”

“Where are you? I’ll come to you. Where are you?”

“Home,” I managed, and he told me he’d be here in ten minutes.

“I’m going to hang up now so I can drive, but I’m coming. Hold tight, and I’ll be there soon.”

Not even eight minutes later, Nate was pounding on my front door. I flung it open and launched myself into his arms, burying my face in his solid chest as harsh sobs racked my body.

“Shh, I’ve got you, Tabby cat,” he murmured, cradling me close. “Just breathe. I’m here.”

He held me, gently rocking me back and forth, until I calmed. When I finally pulled back, he cupped my face in his hands, swiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me. And not in the will-put-on-curse-on-your-kingdom kind of way.”

I managed a watery laugh despite myself and drew in a shuddering breath. “It’s my second ultrasound today. That’s when…”

I could tell he understood from his single nod and the way his grasp on me tightened ever so slightly.

“I can’t go through that alone. I can’t.”

“You’re not alone. I’m right here.” He kissed my forehead, tangling his fingers in my still-damp hair. “I’m not going anywhere, all right?”

He pulled me in for another embrace, my face against his throat, his pulse pounding where my lips brushed it. He combed his hand into the hair at the back of my head, holding me in place, murmuring gentle nothings, quite literally keeping me from breaking.

And when I was finally ready to go, he filled up my water, grumbling something about “this goddamn house” and stuck a banana in my bag before bundling me in my coat.

It was a gray day, looked like rain, appropriate for my mood, and Nate kept his hand on my thigh as we drove. With him next to me, I felt safe in a way I couldn’t fully comprehend but was what I’d always dreamed of.

He held my hand as we were ushered back to the sterile ultrasound room and stayed quiet as I answered a few questions. He helped me up onto the table and held my gaze as the tech grinned like we were a happy couple.

This time, it didn’t feel like it did when we’d pretended at the dealership. This time, it didn’t feel like pretending at all. It felt necessary.

I lifted my shirt, displaying my rounded belly, halfway through this journey, and Nate’s blue eyes shifted down before flicking back up to mine as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. I shook my head. “It’s okay.”

And then his focus was there again, staring in wonder. His fingertips brushed over the curve below my belly button once before the technician squirted warm gel there. I held Nate’s hand in a viselike grip, but he merely offered me a smile and stroked his thumb over my knuckles.

The tech smiled at me. “Let’s take a look at your baby.”

I couldn’t watch the screen light up. Nate didn’t look either, his gaze locked with mine, nodding, reminding me he wasn’t going anywhere.

I’d been feeling the tadpole move—even on the car ride over here, I had a foot or elbow jam into my side—but I’d been holding my breath until that strong heartbeat filled the room. I gasped in relief, tears stinging my eyes and flowing down my temples, into my hairline.

“Oh,” I cried. “Oh my god.”

Nate stood over me, his face so close to mine. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

He wiped at my face, both of us laughing a little deliriously—because he seemed relieved too—as he finally turned to view the screen, the technician busy tapping and typing and moving the wand around on my stomach.

“Look at that.” He rubbed his free hand over my arm. “Not much of a tadpole anymore, huh?”

“No.”

“Is that the heart?” he asked, and the technician zoomed in on the screen, to the flickering organ.

“Yes, and it looks great.” She moved the picture a tiny bit. “And these are the lungs. Nice and healthy.”

“Healthy,” I repeated, barely able to see through my tears.

“We have the kidneys…and spine.” Tap, tap, tap. “The top of the vertebra and skull.”

“Got a big brain in there,” Nate joked, glancing at me to run his knuckles over my temple. “Like its mama.”

The tech repositioned the wand. “Here’s the good stuff. You see that? The face.”

Nate inhaled audibly and stepped closer to the screen, mouth slack.

“Cute, right?” The technician smiled over her shoulder at us. “You think this baby takes after mom or dad more?”

Neither one of us corrected her. That Nate wasn’t the dad. But he did slant a glassy gaze at me, the corner of his mouth quirked up, his single lock of hair hanging over his brow. The rest a mess from his hands and how he’d been tugging at it on the drive over. He appeared perfectly rumpled and amazed.

Maybe even grateful.

And my heart burst wide open as he released the full strength of his smile. “This little frogger is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. Like its mother.”

The tech snapped a few pictures of the face, of the teeny tiny nose, the little mouth, and the waving hand that had all three of us chuckling.

We looked at the arms and legs, the bones Nate deemed sturdy, and then it came time.

“Would you like to know the sex?”

Nate raised his brow, obviously waiting for me to answer, but I didn’t know. Almost as if it was bad luck to find out. But that was silly, and I didn’t want to admit it.

“Could you put it in an envelope? Maybe we can look later,” Nate suggested, and I nodded, pleased with his idea.

“Yes, I can definitely do that for you.” She tapped and snapped and moved the wand around for a few more minutes before shutting everything down and wiping off my stomach with a towel. She left us with pictures and a manila envelope then wished us a good day and an easy rest of the pregnancy.

As soon as I had my shirt down, Nate gathered me into his arms right there in the exam room, letting me bury my face in the crook of his neck as I cried—this time from sheer, unbridled happiness.

“Frogger’s okay,” I whispered raggedly. “My baby’s okay.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to my temple. “More than okay. Perfect. Your baby is perfect.”

For so long, I had resigned myself to going through this journey alone, convincing myself it was better that way. I could avoid further heartbreak. But having Nate here, sharing my fear and joy, was the best thing that could have happened to me. Or Frogger.

And then this over-the-top, overprotective, outrageously idiotic man went and ruined it all when he said, “Move in with me.”