No Strings
Epilogue
Savannah
Three Months Later
“That’s the head…and the hands…those are the feet… and oh! It seems your baby is not at all shy. Those little legs are spread wide.” The doctor laughs, glancing at Ben and me. “Are we finding out the sex?”
“No,” I say, giving her the answer Ben and I agreed on. Life only has so many surprises, so we decided to wait until our little alien is born to find out—yep, you read that right, our baby’s nickname is Alien. Brody took one look at the ultrasound pics, having never seen any before, and said it looked like I was carrying an alien. Of course Ben thought it was hilarious, so, for the past three months, we’ve called our precious little miracle an alien.
The doctor goes about taking measurements, explaining the baby’s right on schedule growth-wise, then we listen to the heartbeat.
Ben squeezes my hand, knowing I get choked up every time I hear it. He surprised me with an at-home doppler so I could listen to it any time I wanted. The fear of this being my only pregnancy, since it was so hard to conceive the first time, has me enjoying every step of this pregnancy—from weekly baby bump pics to journaling how I feel, I’m not leaving anything out.
“Everything looks good. Here are some pictures.” She hands us a strip of black and white images. “And you can view the video on the portal. You can check out and schedule your next appointment for four weeks from today.”
“Thank you.”
After I get dressed and check out, we head out. I scheduled the appointment late in the afternoon so we could take the rest of the day off.
When Ben tells his driver a different address, I look at him confused. “We’re not going home?”
“We are.” That’s all he says before he pulls his phone out and goes about checking his emails. I’m a little annoyed that he’s being so short with me, but I chalk it up to him being busy, so I use the time to track my progress this week and then look up some more baby names. We can’t seem to agree on a single one, so I like to make lists and send them to Ben. He then goes through them, commenting on each one and why that name isn’t good. Some of his answers are actually kind of funny—like Luke for a boy reminds him of Star Wars, and apparently, he’s traumatized from when he read Charlotte’s Web as a kid and the poor spider died, so Charlotte was also nixed.
Twenty minutes later, we’re out of the city and going down a less congested area. The longer we drive, the bigger the houses get and the farther apart they sit.
“Hey, Ben. Did you plan to stop somewhere?”
He glances up quickly and looks around. “Yep.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he gives me nothing. “Care to share where?”
“Nope.” He goes back to looking at his phone, and I snatch it from him.
“Hey, where are we going?”
He chuckles at my annoyance. “Patience. You’ll see.” He leans over and kisses my cheek, and I sag against him.
A few minutes later, the driver stops in front of a gorgeous two-story colonial-style home with cute country-style shutters, a large wraparound porch, a decent-sized front yard with actual green grass, and a white picket fence.
When I see a for sale sign in the front, my heart pounds in my chest. “Ben…”
He smiles and opens the door, edging out and then taking my hand to help me.
“I believe I promised you a white picket fence,” he says, walking us up the U-shaped drive.
His words, confirming what I was thinking and hoping when I saw the sign, cause me to choke up with raw emotion. I’m engaged to a man I love, and we’ll soon officially be a family. My hand that’s not entwined with his goes to my belly—we’re adding to our family. And he’s gotten me my white picket fence.
Ben grabs the lockbox, types in a code, then pulls the key out, unlocking the door. We step inside, and it’s completely empty, like the most beautiful blank canvas. I can instantly imagine Brody and Ben laughing with each other in the living room while they play video games, family meals at the dining room table. I glance to the left and see the massive kitchen, and thoughts of making homemade pizza with Brody—and one day our little alien—come to mind.
We walk through the house and out the back door. There’s more grass—the perfect size backyard to hold a swing set and maybe even a pool—with more white fence.
We go back in, and he walks me through more of the downstairs—including the spacious master bedroom and en suite bathroom. There are five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a large library upstairs that can double as an office.