I returned to the medical building and headed upstairs to the ultrasound clinic. After I checked in, I located two empty seats, sat in one of them, and grabbed a magazine from the pile on the coffeetable.
I should’ve been reading an annual report for a company I needed to analyze. So what trumped the all-important career-related task? The cute article about making bath time fun for little kids, with a picture of a happy, soapytoddler.
“Holly Whittaker,” a woman in a lab coat called out after I’d been sitting in the waiting room for about tenminutes.
I guess that was it. Josh’s practice must have gone longer thanexpected.
Or he didn’t care enough to be here. That bitchy voice? Just ignore it—even if it might’ve beenright.
The woman led me to a dimly lit exam room and asked me to lie on the examtable.
“I’m going to put some warm gel on your stomach first,” she said. After doing that, she positioned the head of the ultrasound wand on my belly, then moved it around while watching the screen. Every few seconds, she tapped away on thekeyboard.
What’s the best way to make a patient nervous? One—don’t speak to her. And two—study the screen with the same expression doctors wore when delivering bad news. You know theone.
Just as I was about to beg her to tell me what was wrong, a knock on the door jerked me from my near panic. The tech paused what she was doing and answered it. I couldn’t see who it was or hear what they were saying, but a moment later, she opened the door wider and Josh strolled in,smiling.
Good thing I wasn’t attached to a heart rate monitor, what with the way my heart did a happy dance at seeing him. The corners of my mouth slid up into a big relieved grin. “You madeit!”
Those tears? They were nothing. Must have been dust in myeyes.
Josh reached for my hand. “Sorry I’m late. Practice went later than expected. Did I missanything?”
I might have melted a little at the concern in his tone, and blinked back the new round oftears.
“Not at all,” the tech explained. “I’m just taking measurements first and then I can show you your baby.” She went back to doing herjob.
Maybe sensing my fear, Josh kissed my temple. My heart paused a moment to let out a dreamy sigh, matching the one my ovaries had made at theplayground.
There was no doubt about it—I was falling forhim.
I know, bad idea. The sole reason Josh and I were “together” was because of the baby. If Junior hadn’t existed, then things between Josh and me wouldn’t be what they werenow.
Right—even now there wasn’t really anus. At least not in the sense I wished for. After what his father and mother did to him, he was too damaged to even consider it—too scared totry.
But could you blamehim?
And let’s not forget one important thing. I didn’t know much about hockey, but I did know players got traded. Which meant Josh could end up moving away…and where did that leave Junior andme?
“I was talking to some guys on the team who have young kids and babies,” Josh said, “and…well…they invited me to join their group,HDF.”
“HDF?”
“Hockey DadsForever.”
I laughed. “You’re kidding me, right? One of your teammates actually dreamed up thatname?”
His shoulders raised in aWhat-can-you-do?shrug. “No, one of their wives. Anyway, they’ll teach me everything I need to know about being a good father. It’s like a supportgroup.”
“A daddy support group?” Was I the only one who thought that was utterlyadorable?
My support group, who actually knew what they were talking about when it came to pregnancy and having a newborn, consisted of one member—Erin.
“Yes, but being hockey players, they came up with an initiation for you and me to do first before I can jointhem.”
“What kind ofinitiation?”
“We just need to babysit my teammate’s two-year-old twin boys for a fewhours.”
