A nurse called the name of the couple sitting next to her, and they left the waiting room. Harlem had a little more room to relax. She flipped a page in the magazine. She wasn’t reading it but needed something to do with her hands and pent-up nervous energy.
“Oh good. You haven’t gone in yet.”
Harlem glanced up to see Carter taking off his jacket. To her own surprise, he was a welcomed relief. He took the seat that had been recently vacated by the couple.
Carter was irritated. “You could have waited.”
She was happy to see him but would never admit it. She kept her voice low so no one else could hear them. “We never agreed to come together.”
Carter had had enough of her shit. He was just about to tell her when a nurse called out her name. “Harlem Thomas.”
Quickly, she stood and nervously pressed her lips together. Carter would hold his tongue for now, but later, he planned to set Harlem straight. He stood too.
She glanced back at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going in with you.”
“You can’t.” Harlem would have to get undressed. It would be way too intimate.
“The hell I can’t.” Carter lifted his chin in the direction of the nurse to nudge Harlem along. “Let’s go. She’s waiting.”
She was only hesitant for a second, then followed behind the nurse. They were shown to their room, and Harlem was thankful there was a bathroom in it. She would have to change and didn’t want to get undressed in front of Carter. It prevented an argument about him overstepping and Harlem needing some privacy.
While Harlem was changing, Carter looked around the room. He was familiar with a woman’s body, but this was something altogether different. He took a particular interest in one of the pictures on the wall. It was a photo of the various stages of pregnancy. Harlem was still in her first trimester.
Tentatively, Harlem came out of the bathroom holding the back of her gown. “I hate these things. Nurses always have to give you two just so your ass doesn’t hang out, but she only gave me one.”
Carter averted his eyes. He felt awkward, as if he was breaking some unwritten rule. The room suddenly seemed smaller.
Harlem felt awkward too. She struggled to sit on the edge of the bed and hold her gown together.
Carter could see out of the corner of his eye that she needed help. He waited for her to ask but knew that she was too stubborn to do it. Instead, he took a few steps toward her, and placed his hands on her waist, and lifted Harlem up onto the bed.
“Thanks.” She wouldn’t look at him. Harlem knew that her brown face had turned flaming red in embarrassment.
The door opened, and her doctor, full of smiles, came bursting into the room. “Hi, Harlem. How are you?”
It was a welcomed interruption. Carter stepped away from Harlem as if he had been caught with his hand in the candy jar.
She cleared her throat. “Hi, Dr. Jones.”
“How are you feeling?”
“A little tired, but otherwise, I’m fine.” She responded.
“Is that normal?” Carter was genuinely curious.
Dr. Jones extended his hand. “Pretty normal. Good to see you again, Mr. Owens.” He had been around since the beginning of the IVF treatments and knew that Carter was the donor. He also knew about the untimely death of Damian. Dr. Jones figured Carter would be involved in this pregnancy in some form.
Carter shook Dr. Jones’ hand. “Good to see you again too.” He had so many conflicting emotions. Here he was acting like the baby’s father when he wasn’t ready to be one. Carter was doing the one thing he’d always swore he’d never do.
“You two must be excited about hearing the baby’s heartbeat.”
“T-that’s today?” Harlem stuttered.
“It sure is.” He confirmed. Dr. Jones went through a series of questions while checking Harlem’s vitals. Once that was all done, it was show time. “Please lay back for me.” Dr. Jones pulled out the fetal heart monitor. He grabbed a bottle and something that looked like a small microphone.
“What is that?” Carter was full of questions.
“It’s the instrument that will allow us to hear the baby.” He responded.
Carter moved closer to Harlem.
She laid on her back as instructed, and Dr. Jones positioned her gown so that her belly was exposed. It was still pretty flat, which made it hard to believe that she was even pregnant.
Carter and Harlem watched intently as he squirted a clear jelly-like substance from a bottle onto her stomach. “Does that hurt?” Carter asked.
“No, and the gel is heated. Back in the day, this was cold.” He chuckled. “Women wanted to physically assault me because of it, so I’m glad for the improvement.” Dr. Jones tried a little humor to lighten the mood in the room. It was thick with tension.
It didn’t work.
Harlem had gone completely silent. Carter could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She was freaking out. There was real fear in her eyes. He captured one of her hands in his and squeezed her hand to reassure her.
“Okay. Here we go.” Dr. Jones placed the little microphone onto her stomach. He glided it over the jelly back and forth several times, and then all of a sudden, there it was–the rapid heartbeat of a baby. It was a powerful sound when it came through the speakers.
Harlem blinked several times. Suddenly, something within her clicked.
