"The hCG test confirmed what I suspected might be the underlying cause." Another pause. "You're pregnant, Miss Hart. Congratulations."
The words hang in the air like a held breath, and I feel Fisher's hand tighten around mine.
I lean back against the bed as the weight of the news washes over me. My periods haven't been regular all summer, light to almost non-existent, but I was having them. Then, this past week, when I should have had something, there was nothing. It's what I wanted to mention to London last night, but after the proposal, I decided to wait.
Discovering I'm pregnant is not entirely unexpected. I suspected it. I knew there was a risk when I chose to be with London unprotected, but I hoped that when and if this moment ever came, he would be the one by my side, learning it with me.
"Now that we know you're pregnant, my discharge orders have changed slightly." The doctor's tone shifts from congratulatory to one of focus. "You'll still need to eat small meals or snacks every few hours and try to balance your carbohydrates, proteins, and fats. This should also help correct the anemia, but I'm prescribing iron supplements to be safe. Take them until your first OB-GYN appointment." His pen runs down his clipboard, checking off topics as he goes. "You'll also need to start prenatal vitamins immediately."
He looks up, meeting my eyes. "Given the pregnancy, I've ordered an ultrasound. I want to confirm fetal development and rule out an ectopic pregnancy just as a standard precaution." His expression softens slightly. "Do you have any questions before I have a nurse bring in the ultrasound machine?"
"No," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not at the moment."
The reality still feels surreal, like I am watching someone else's life unfold.
I release a shaky breath, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest. This is not how I pictured my afternoon going. Fisher squeezes my hand, anchoring me to the moment.
"You want me to try calling London again?" he asks quietly.
"Yeah." I swallow hard. "But don't tell him anything. I need to be the one to tell him."
"Of course," he says, already moving toward the door.
The room feels impossibly quiet after he leaves, filled only with the steady beep of monitors and the thunder of my own heartbeat. I'm going to be a mom.
"You realizeLondon is going to lose his actual mind with the news, right?" Fisher asks as we drive down the gravel road that leads to Hale Ranch.
Neither of us was successful in getting in touch with him from the hospital. Then, later, his phone must have died because it started going straight to voicemail, which makes me think he lost it. I know things seemed strange this morning, but not enough for him to go completely dark.
"You think?" I ask nervously.
We've talked about kids, but it's always been an in-the-future talk, one where we're settled, living under one roof, and sharing a name. We're doing things out of order, and I think he'll be happy regardless, but there's about a three percent chance he might not be as excited as I am. I've also had two hours to sit with the news. The longer I sat, the happier I got. I just know that, together, our baby is going to have the best life, full of lots of love, with two parents instead of one.
"Not even a question. If there's anything that looks different, it will be the initial shock of finding out and then piecing together that he's about to be responsible for another human life. Still, it will probably take all of ten seconds for his face to light up with sheer happiness. Laney, that man has loved you since the day you met. I know the two of you have had more than your fair share of obstacles to work through, ones that he may have created, but his heart was always in the right place."
I nod. I know he's right. He loves me like he never left me, likehe never let me go, and that is because, in his heart, he didn't. I owned it all this time, just like he owned mine. There's a reason no one else ever fit. They weren't him.
"His bike is here. That's a good sign he is too," Fisher says, putting the car in park. "Let me open your door, please. I know you can do it… but please just let me get it for you."
I roll my eyes. "You can open my door, Fish, but remember, don't say anything. I'll tell him."
"I won't spoil the best-kept secret. Just don't make me keep it too long, or I can't promise I won't slip up," he says, exiting the car.
I guess I better get used to it. Fisher has been giving me the princess treatment ever since we left the hospital, and I already know London is going to do the same. It's in his nature. He's always taking care of me and predicting what I'll need before I need it.
Fish opens the front door before leaving my side. "London," he calls out from the living room. "London, get your ass out here, fucker."
I've just closed the front door when London walks out of his room in nothing but a towel, water still dripping from his dark hair. Our eyes connect, and my heart doesn't just skip—it fractures. God, I missed him.
I missed the way he looks at me like I'm his whole world, the warmth of his hand in mine, and the safety I feel with his arms wrapped around me. When he didn't answer my calls, I thought something may have happened. I take a step in his direction, eager to tell him about my day, when something on his face changes. Something that looks a hell of a lot like regret and apology, and my knees get weak.
"Where have you been? I've been trying to get ahold of you for hours," Fisher's voice cuts through the tension.
London's eyes never leave mine. He licks his lips, and I watch the rise and fall of his chest kick up a notch, and my body remembers his, every kiss, every whispered promise, every moment weshared building our future together just hours ago. "My phone died," he says, his voice hoarse.
"London, thanks for everything."
The familiar voice sends ice through my veins, freezing me in place. My stomach plummets, taking my heart with it as recognition crashes through me. The look on his face…that voice…and finally, she steps out—the girl he swore meant nothing, the girl who was supposed to be in our past. Her hair is mussed in a way that tells a story I don't want to read as she clasps a necklace around her neck with fingers that shake slightly.
