“Waffle. I love your little waffle.”
“Yes, because I currently have a waffle on me.” I roll my eyes and head for the front desk, signing in.
Once I’m signed in I sit down beside Jace. It’s nice that most days he works a late shift so he can go to my appointments. I’m fine going by myself, but it’s nice having him here, and I know he likes seeing the baby too.
“We need to get a new car,” he tells me, echoing my thoughts from earlier. “We need something we can go ahead and have a car seat in so it’s ready when he comes.”
I laugh. “We have time. I’m only seven months.”
“Still,” he argues. “I’d like to be prepared.”
My name is called and I stand, heading toward the nurse. Jace trails behind me.
“How are you today?” the nurse asks.
“Good,” I say brightly. “And you?”
“Great,” she replies, leading me to a room.
I take off my coat and get situated on
the exam table. Jace takes his seat, his leg bouncing restlessly.
“Let’s see how baby is doing.” The nurse smiles kindly.
I roll up my shirt, exposing my stomach. She squirts the goo on and it squishes out of the bottle.
Grabbing the wand, she adjusts the cord before putting it on my stomach.
The baby pops up on the screen and like always I break out into the biggest smile, Jace too. Right there, on that tiny screen, is a miracle.
I stare at the screen, squinting. Something isn’t right, but I’m not sure what.
The nurse moves the wand around some more, her own brows furrowed.
Her concern makes mine skyrocket.
It’s like shocks are going off in my body, warning me something is terribly wrong and I need to get the hell out of there.
“I …” she begins. “I’ll be right back.”
She’s out of the room before I can ask any questions—not that I seem to be able to form any anyway.
There’s only silence in my mind, refusing to except what’s right in front of me.
I turn my head, looking at Jace. His fingers are pressed to his lips, and his eyes ooze concern.
“J-Jace?” I stutter, and he forces his eyes to mine and away from the now blank screen. Tears shimmer in his eyes.
Panic builds in my chest, choking me like a vice.
It’s then I realize the baby wasn’t moving and … and there wasn’t that amazing steady thump thump thumping of his heart.
There was … emptiness.
“No,” I gasp. “No,” I say, louder this time.
“Nova,” Jace says softly, grasping my hand.