Chapter 21 The cafe was too loud. There wasn't anything in particular that stood out above the rest - just the ambient buzz of life that seemed to crawl under my skin and amplify. The hiss of milk steaming, the loud knocking every time they pulled an espresso, chairs scraping across tile, laughter from a couple behind me that cut through everything in sharp bursts. Even Jules's breathing was getting to me. She stirred her coffee across the table from me, her body just slightly rigid, her worry there in plain sight but partially hidden. Her dark curls were pulled back, her tanned skin almost glittering in the warm sunlight leaking in through the window beside her. But her eyes, always too perceptive, didn't miss a damn thing as I rubbed my wrists raw from nerves. "You're panicking," she said softly. I nodded, but it felt stiff, like I wasn't fully in control of my body. My stomach had been in a knot since waking up, and although I'd been able to get more sleep in the last week than I had in the first two months, my morning sickness hadn't budged at all - and I wasn't sure if the bile working its way up my throat was from that or how terrified I was that Matt wouldn't show up. Part of me wished I'd never invited him so I wouldn't have to sit here and wonder. "He said he'd come." I wasn't sure if I was trying to settle myself or her. "And if he⁠-" "I know." I looked down at my hands, the way my left wrist had gone red from wringing it. "You'll come with me." "Damn right I will," she scoffed. "I'll be, like, twenty feet from the door. If they call you back and he's not there, call me." I nodded, trying to give her a smile, but it didn't go far. We'd made the backup plan two days ago, rehearsed it this morning like it was a fire drill when she'd driven me over here. Jules hadn't said anything outright to me about Matt, but the way she watched me when she thought I wasn't looking made me assume she was bracing for him to disappoint me. And so was I. But it didn't stop the quiet part of me from hoping he wouldn't. He was good at that - making me believe there was a good side to him even in the worst moments. It wasn't fair. I flipped my phone over again, glancing at the time, then back to my coffee that I'd barely touched. It was probably cold by now. "You know," she said gently, leaning a little harder onto her elbows, "you don't have to act like you don't care what he does today." I didn't look up. "I'm not." "You're terrified." I shot her a glare. "Si." I sighed and leaned back, trying to ignore the way my stomach only twisted more. "I just don't want to get my hopes up." She gave me a soft, knowing smile. "How's that going for you?" "Shut up." Her nails tapped lightly on the table, her gaze locked with mine. "I know you," she said. "You get this look when you're lying to yourself. Kind of like a kicked puppy and a scrappy raccoon had a baby." I huffed out a weak chuckle. "I can't tell if that's a compliment⁠-" "You love him." I blinked at her, caught entirely off guard. My gaze dropped to the half-eaten croissant on her plate and the condensation dripping down her cup, my throat closing in. I didn't even realize how tightly I was holding my wrist until I felt the throbbing in my hand. I hated that she wasn't wrong. Hated it. I'd known it, somewhere inside, weeks ago. Knew there couldn't have been another reason I was that broken up about what happened between us. But it didn't make it any easier to admit out loud, let alone to myself in my bedroom. "Yeah," I whispered. She nodded once. She wasn't smug, wasn't surprised, just... nodded. Like she'd known it, too. "I don't... I don't know if he's capable of loving me back," I said. My voice cracked halfway through. "I don't know if he's even capable of letting himself try." "That's not your job to fix, Si." "No, but it's going to be my job to cope with it if he skips town." ---- I stood beside the door of the OB/GYN, leaning against the concrete wall and forcing myself to breathe. He would show. I had to tell myself that. Thinking that he wouldn't only made it twenty times worse, but avoiding thinking about it made me want to sob from just how hard I had to actively put it out of my head. I scanned the parking lot, eyes snagging on Jules's car where she sat in the cool air conditioning, then roaming again. I knew what I was looking for - Matt's dark blue Maserati with the red interior he'd shown up in at my apartment last week. But I didn't see it anywhere. I swallowed down the nausea that was trying to force its way up my throat. There were still five minutes until my appointment-five minutes left for him to prove to me that he wasn't running from this. But I needed to sign in, needed to tell them I was here for my appointment, so I pushed down any residual hope to try to help myself and walked through the front door expecting fully to do this alone. Hazel eyes locked with mine the second the air conditioning blasted me in the face. The air left my lungs in a heartbeat. Matt stood off to the side of the receptionist in a dark grey business suit, his mostly grey hair styled back out of his face, his jawline clean-shaven. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his slacks like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them, and his eyes looked a little sunken, a little dark, like he hadn't been sleeping well. He straightened, clearing his throat like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. "Hi," I said instead, the word almost squeaked from how badly my throat was closing in. "Hey." I felt awkward, unsure in the formality of it, not used to holding back the bullshit I wanted to say to him - shocked you actually came, are you expecting a medal? - but the relief that was washing over me, wave after wave, kept me from opening my mouth again. "Let's get you signed in," he said softly, taking a single step toward me to usher me to the counter. I wrote my name down and the current time beside it, then slid it across the counter to the woman waiting with a paid-for smile across her cheeks. We sat down across from each other to wait, his gaze holding mine, his jaw tight. He must've come from work based on his clothes, and I couldn't help but wonder what he'd told his employees, if he'd said anything at all or just walked out. If he'd mentioned me. "I didn't see your car." The words came out smaller than I'd intended, and I cringed, knowing damn well what he'd pick up from that. His expression softened just a hair. "I took the Range Rover today. Dropped Zach off at school before work." Christ, I felt like an idiot. "Sienna?" I nearly jumped at the sound of my name, but the nurse at the doorway smiled softly at me. Matt offered me a hand up and I ignored it, pushing up with a stifled grunt, my head spinning just a little. The hallway was quiet, the fluorescent lights above making me squint as they hummed faintly. The nurse led us into a room that smelled overly sterile, the exam bed coated with a thin paper that crinkled under me as I climbed up onto it and lay back. Matt lingered awkwardly beside me, hands in his pockets again, his gaze flicking about the room like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to be part of this. And maybe I wasn't entirely sure either. But it was strange seeing him no longer be the ever-confident version of himself. The doctor came in with a clipboard and a kind smile, introduced herself as Dr. Hayworth, and explained how this would work in a calm, practiced voice like she'd done this a million times for women who had never gone through this before. I tried to breathe through the anxiety building in my chest - the room felt both too warm and too cold, my thin cotton shirt sticking slightly to my back as I adjusted myself on the bed at her request. I pulled the fabric up when she asked, baring my stomach, and winced when I realized this was the first time Matt was actually seeing it like this. A little swollen. Not much, just a small bump, but it was there. Small, but undeniable, normally hidden beneath a loose shirt or, like when Matt had come, a hoodie. But seeing it here in the clinical lighting made something twist inside of me. Real. It was real now. Dr. Hayworth spread the jelly over my skin, and I flinched a little from the chill, her soft "sorry, it'll warm up" lost to the loud pulse in my ears. The wand moved across the curve of my stomach, and the screen flickered on, confusing images flashing up that I didn't understand how to read. Warm, lightly calloused fingers found mine. It wasn't a dramatic gesture or some sweeping apology. Just his fingers, hesitant but firm, curling gently around mine and threading through the gaps, warm and steady and something to hold. I looked up at him, expecting a reassuring glance or a tight-lipped smile, but his eyes were glued to the monitor, his mouth parted, jaw tight, like he was just as anxious as I was to know that whoever was growing inside of me was healthy. I didn't let go of his hand. Just squeezed, just once. It wasn't forgiveness, not even close, but it was something - a thread between us in the silence. "There we go," Dr. Hayworth murmured, shifting the wand slightly. Her brows furrowed a little as thumping heartbeats echoed out, mine and the baby's, I assumed. "Strong heartbeats." I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Alive. Of course, I knew the baby was alive, but it was another thing entirely seeing and hearing direct proof. My eyes were locked on the screen, the swirling black and white and gray, and I knew somewhere in that grainy image was the little life I was growing. The doctor angled the wand again, her lips forming a thin line as her eyes flicked back and forth across the screen, her fingers tapping the buttons. The room filled with the echoing beats - one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three. Matt leaned over me, blinking quickly. "Is that⁠-" "Hold on," Dr. Hayworth said, cutting him off. "I'm just making sure." I blinked up at Matt, my hand tightening around his, hearing one heartbeat on the monitor kick up wildly-my own. "What's going on?" She made another small adjustment with the probe, just half an inch, adjusting the angle, and paused. "All right," she said softly. "One's tucked a little behind the other, it's making the image a little off. But I should be able to get clear visuals on both separately." I blinked. Both? Both. "Oh, my God," I croaked. "Both?" Matt whispered, eyes flicking from the screen to me. Dr. Hayworth turned to us, her expression softening with something that felt like kindness and caution laced together. "Congratulations. You're having twins." I stared at her like she'd just grown a second head. My brain couldn't catch up. The word twins rattled around in it, pinging off the sides and echoing into the ether, my breath hanging. Twins. She pointed to the monitor, tracing over the hazy shapes. "Here's one," she said, highlighting the small curve of a head. She moved the wand drastically, over to the other side of my stomach, angling it back. "And here's the other. They look a little funny right now, but that's just because you're, what, two and a half months along? They look a bit like bean sprouts at this stage. A little too early to tell the sex..." She kept talking, but I couldn't hear her. Two. There were two. I couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't think. Matt stared at the screen wide-eyed, shock and awe warring in his expression, and I saw it really hit him in real time, saw the ripple of emotion, the way his breath caught, and his eyes glassed over. His gaze dropped to mine. His hand squeezed impossibly tight.