* * *
Other than Tamara and Braden, Mallory didn’t tell anyone she was pregnant during the next two weeks. The ultrasound with her own OB in San Diego loomed and she wanted to make certain that everything was okay before she spread her news.
There’d be a lot of questions, “Who’s the father?” being number one, she was sure. And, if something was awry, there’d be a lot of sympathy. She was prepared to answer the questions when the time came. She’d made a conscious choice. There would be those who didn’t understand. She wouldn’t hold their lack of understanding against them.
She talked to Braden a few times during those two weeks. Mostly just touching base. He’d mentioned Anna a time o
r two, so she knew he was still seeing the other woman. Might be a record for him, she thought.
Not that it concerned her.
And yet...she found herself obsessing about the other woman when she was too tired to control her thoughts. Who was she? Where did she come from? What did she do? What did she look like? Was she good enough for him?
Of course not. That last answer she had, unequivocally. She didn’t know how she knew the answer, she just did. And she would be relieved when he called to say that it was over.
He always did.
But what if this time he didn’t? He’d been staying in L.A. almost full-time. What if dating this Anna person really was him moving on with his life?
Well, she was moving on with hers, she reminded herself as she checked in for her ultrasound that third Thursday in April. At only six weeks she wasn’t showing at all, nor did she have any signs of morning sickness yet, either.
She’d had it bad with Tucker, for about a week. Hadn’t been able to keep anything down. Poor Bray had been so worried, standing there over the toilet with her, holding her hair back, giving her cool washcloths when she was done puking her guts out.
He’d tried. He’d really tried.
She hoped Anna got that about him. That he tried.
So what was wrong with her that trying wasn’t enough? What had she expected—perfection?
“Mrs. Harris?” the technician called her name. Mallory saw no reason to correct her title to Ms. Harris was her married name.
Thinking about names got her to the hallway. Then she had little to distract her from the fact she was about to go in for a test that could show something wasn’t okay.
She’d built her nursery. She was building her new life. So “they” would come, right? Her baby—he or she—would have a safe little home in there.
“If we’re lucky you’ll be able to hear the heartbeat this morning,” the technician—Adelaide her nametag read—told her as they entered the room. “I don’t know if they told you that or not.”
She shook her head as she climbed up on the table as directed.
“We can record it,” Adelaide continued as she lifted Mallory’s shirt high enough to completely expose her stomach and then rolled under the waistband of her jeans, as well. “That way the father can hear it, too.”
Recordings weren’t her concern at the moment.
And...the father?
As Adelaide spread cold gel all over her stomach, Mallory stared at the ceiling and thought about the first time she’d heard Tucker’s heartbeat. It had been during her normal prenatal check. Braden had been at work and she hadn’t thought to ask if he wanted to come along. Those early doctor visits, they’d felt...feminine. Between her, her doctor and her baby.
They hadn’t offered to record it, either.
Braden hadn’t seemed to think anything of it. He’d been super excited to know that she’d heard it. He’d asked her how it sounded, and when she’d said it was fast, he’d looked worried, asking questions until she’d assured him that the doctor had said it was perfectly normal.
The technician put a handheld device on her belly, started moving it around.
Why hadn’t she thought to invite Braden to hear Tucker’s heartbeat for himself?
“Okay, you can look right here and see...” The technician’s voice fell off. She adjusted the transformer, and Mallory turned her head to look at the screen.
She’d told herself she wouldn’t. She’d just let them do their work and assume everything was fine. It wasn’t like she’d know what she was looking at anyway. Not this early.