“You know the drill. I’ll meet you in room two when you’re done,” she informs me.
After I pee in the cup and set it in the window to be tested, I find my assigned room and get up on the table. The paper crinkles, filling the otherwise quiet room.
The nurse asks me a few routine questions and then leaves, assuring me that the doctor will be in shortly.
My feet dangle from the bed as I stare through the slats of the blinds covering the large window. It overlooks the parking lot below and despite knowing that Levi isn’t coming, I can’t help searching the rows of parked cars to be sure his isn’t down there.
This emptiness settles in as my hope finally begins to fade. I already knew the chances of him coming were slim, but I guess I hadn’t fully accepted it until now.
When I hear the rapid double tap on the door, I stiffen my spine and plaster on a fake smile.
“There you are.”
My head whips around at the sound of Levi’s voice. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
Approaching the bed, Levi slips his hand into my hair and pecks my lips. “I almost didn’t. Traffic was crazy, and the shoot ran over. But I told the guy fuck it, I had some place to be. I might have lost that contract. Hell, I might have broken a few dozen speed laws, but nothing was going to stop me from being here.”
My heart is clenching tight with so much love I can hardly breathe. “If you’d been killed in an accident because you were speeding, that certainly would have stopped you.”
Levi’s cocky smirk falls into place. “Not even death, princess.”
I get his meaning, but it doesn’t make me feel any easier. “Promise me you’ll be more careful. I don’t want this baby to have to know you through pictures.”
Levi’s expression softens and he buries both hands in my hair, forcing my head back as he looks me square in the eyes. “I promise, that’s never going to happen.”
“Swear?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he says, making the sign of the cross over his right pectoral.
My elbow jerks, jabbing him in the side. “You’re such an ass.”
He’s still chuckling when Doctor Sommers enters the room. The instant she lays eyes on Levi, her face freezes and her step falters. It’s a split second awareness and then she recovers herself, walking fluidly into the room and drawing a rolling stool over to sit on. “So, this must be Dad.”
“That’s me.” Immediately, Levi takes a step forward and extends his hand, giving hers two firm pumps before stepping back and taking a seat in the visitor’s chair.
I have to give her credit. Doctor Sommers obviously knows who Levi is, but she’s trying hard to reign it in and act professional. As she looks over my chart and asks questions about how I’m feeling, I can’t help but wonder if her interest in Levi is because she’s a soccer fan or if she’s been following the news.
The thought is pushed aside when she asks me to lay back and lift my shirt so she can take some measurements. Levi sits forward in his chair, watching with rapt interest.
“Baby’s head is down,” the doctor comments as she feels around, pressing her fingertips in slightly to get a feel of the baby’s position. “His bottom is up here,” she says, rubbing just below my ribs. “Are you noticing it’s harder to breathe than normal?”
“Just a little extra pressure,” I tell her. It’s nothing too uncomfortable. Not like the occasional foot under the ribcage. That shit sucks.
“Your measurements are good. Everything appears to be right on track. I’d estimate him to be around two pounds right now.”
“Is that good?” Levi asks.
“It’s average. He’s right on target for this stage.”
There’s a soft knock on the door just before it opens and a young girl comes in rolling a cart laden with heavy machinery.
“Ah, just in time.” The doctor grins. “Would you like to see your baby, Dad?”
“Fuck yeah.” Levi’s eyes widen. “Excuse my French.”
“Ignore him,” I speak up. “He isn’t housebroken yet.”
Levi narrows his eyes playfully as the tech sets up her equipment and squirts some clear jelly on my abdomen. After a few moments of rolling the wand around, a whooshing sound fills the room.
“And there’s your baby,” she grins while studying the grainy black and white image on the monitor.
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes and roll down my temples, catching in my hair. My little peanut.
“My God. It’s so fast. Is that normal?” Levi asks, referring to the rapid heartbeat.
“Yep. He’s perfect,” the tech says.
After printing off a couple of pictures, she leaves us to finish our appointment. I finish wiping the jelly off with some Kleenex and Levi helps me down from the table. There is nothing but love in his eyes and a giddy grin on his face. I’m so damn glad he came.
To me, Doctor Sommers says, “You’re all set, Vista. Continue taking your vitamins. If you exercise, which I recommend, don’t overdo it. Other than that, keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll see you back here next month.”
I nod, eager to leave so I can steal some time alone with Levi. I’m sure he’ll be leaving again soon.
On the way out, the doctor stops Levi with a hand on his arm. “This is a little unorthodox, I’m sure, but can I get your autograph. My son is a huge fan of yours. You’ve practically been a household name since he was ten.” Her smile is tight, hopeful.
“Absolutely,” Levi says cheerfully. Taking the pen and paper she offers, he scribbles something down that takes way longer than a simple signature, and hands it back. “Tell him I said hi.”
“Thank you so much,” she gushes, and for a brief moment, I question who the bigger fan is: her or her son.
“That was very nice of you,” I tell Levi as we exit the building.
“Eh, comes with the job.” He shrugs. His hand falling between us, he takes mine and laces our fingers together. “So what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
Biting my bottom lip, I say, “Depends on what your plans are.”
With his head tilted, Levi slants me a mischievous smile.
27
Levi follows me home on his motorcycle. At least now I know how he got here so fast. Although I wish he wouldn’t race around on that thing. It makes me uneasy knowing that he drove miles on that and wasn’t exactly safe about it.
As soon as we pull up to my cramped apartment complex, I see the merciless paparazzi lurking in the shadows. They think they’re being covert? They couldn’t be any more obvious. Usually I have enough time to get out of the car and attempt to get by them before they notice, but not this time. As soon they catch the sound of Levi’s motorcycle pulling in behind my cab—Levi won’t allow me to ride with him in my current “condition”—they leap up and rush over.
Lights pop as they frantically snap pictures. Mainly of Levi. Apparently, I’m chopped liver with him around.
Levi ignores their request for comment and shoves his way over to me, opening my door and helping me out. He keeps my body close to his, hunching his shoulders to shield me as best he can as we slowly carve a path to my building.
“Move please,” Levi requests tightly when they begin getting too close for comfort. “You all need to back off,” he warns.
A guy with a goatee and thick, coke bottle glasses shoves his camera right into our faces and the lens fires several times in quick succession. Raising my hand, I shield my eyes from the blinding light. Levi, on the other hand, grabs hold of the camera and smashes it back in the guy’s face with a vicious grunt.