Savage Love || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 124

Blair's POV

The room was too quiet. The kind of quiet that seeps into your bones, making everything feel heavier than it already is. The sterile lights overhead felt harsh, like they were illuminating every fear I was trying to keep buried. Everything we'd been through—the shots, the waiting, the endless hoping—it all led to this one moment. And I was terrified.

Marshall stood beside me, his hand gripping mine in that steady way that usually made me feel safe. But today? Today, even his touch wasn't enough to push down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside me.

"You good over there?" I asked, glancing at him, trying to gauge his mood.

He gave me a half-smirk, the one that usually meant he was about to say something snarky. "Yeah, just wonderin' if they forgot the 'congratulations' balloons. Y'know, the 'you might be parents soon' ones."

I let out a shaky laugh. "Right. Maybe they're saving the confetti for when we leave."

"Better be top-shelf champagne, too," he muttered, squeezing my hand a little tighter.

I smiled, but it felt weak, more like I was going through the motions than actually finding anything funny. I knew what he was doing—keeping it light because that's what we always did when things got hard. But today, I wasn't sure if humor was going to cut it.

The doctor walked in, her usual calm demeanor in place. She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that was supposed to be reassuring, but today, it just reminded me of how little control I had over any of this.

"Blair, Marshall, how are we feeling today?" she asked, her voice chipper.

Marshall beat me to the punch. "Feelin' like we're about to hit the jackpot. Big money, no whammies."

I gave him a look, my smile thin. Humor. Always the humor. But there was no way to joke our way out of this one.

The doctor didn't miss a beat, clearly used to dealing with nervous patients. "We'll take it step by step. You're in good hands."

The nurse prepped the ultrasound wand, and I stared up at the ceiling, trying to block out the reality of what was happening. I'd imagined this moment a thousand times. But now that we were here, it didn't feel real. It felt like we were walking a tightrope, with everything we'd ever wanted hanging in the balance.

Marshall leaned in closer, his voice quieter this time. "You ready for this?"

I nodded, but the truth was, I didn't feel ready. How could anyone be ready for something like this? For the possibility that everything could change in an instant?

I squeezed his hand, focusing on the warmth of his skin against mine. He was my anchor, the one thing keeping me from completely spiraling. But even he couldn't fix this. He couldn't control what happened next. And that was terrifying.

The doctor started positioning the catheter, her voice soft and professional. "You're going to feel some pressure now, Blair. If anything feels uncomfortable, let me know."

Pressure. Right. It wasn't the physical discomfort I was afraid of—it was the weight of everything that came with this. What if it didn't work? What if we were back to square one? Again.

"You're doin' good," Marshall said, his voice softer than usual. He wasn't cracking jokes now. Just being there. "Almost done."

I nodded, blinking back the tears that were starting to form. I didn't want to cry, didn't want to seem weak. But the pressure was too much—inside and out.

The doctor's voice pulled me back. "The embryo has been transferred. Everything went smoothly."

That's it. Just like that, it was over. I stared at the ceiling, trying to process what she'd said. Everything we'd worked for, all the hopes and fears... and now it was out of our hands.

"That's it?" I asked, my voice sounding smaller than I intended. "No fireworks? No 'Mission Accomplished' banner?"

Marshall let out a quiet laugh beside me, but I could hear the tension in it. "Yeah, doc, where's the parade? I was expectin' a halftime show at least."

The doctor smiled kindly. "No halftime show, I'm afraid. Now we wait."

I had to stay lying down for a while after the procedure, to let everything settle. Marshall stayed by my side, his hand never leaving mine. The silence between us was heavy, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the weight of everything unsaid that was hanging in the air.

"You think they're gonna give us a receipt for this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light. "Just in case we need to return it."

Marshall chuckled softly, though his grip on my hand tightened. "Yeah, but no returns, baby. This one's final sale."

I tried to laugh, but the sound caught in my throat. The truth was, I was scared. Terrified. What if this didn't work? What if we'd gone through all of this for nothing? I blinked, but the tears were already slipping down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Marshall noticed immediately, of course. He leaned in, brushing the tears away with his thumb, his voice low. "Hey. None of that. We did what we had to. The rest? It's outta our hands."

I sniffed, trying to smile, but it felt weak. "I know... it's just... what if it doesn't work?"

He pressed his forehead against mine, his voice steady but soft. "Then we deal with it. Whatever happens, we deal with it. Together."

I nodded, more tears falling. I hated feeling this vulnerable. Hated that I couldn't control this. But with him by my side, it felt a little less overwhelming. Just a little.

When the nurse came back and told us we could leave, I sat up slowly, still feeling like the world was spinning around me. "So... no 'I survived IVF' T-shirt? I feel like I earned one today."

Marshall grinned, helping me to my feet. "Nah, they'll send you a bumper sticker. Somethin' like 'My Other Ride is a Hormone Injection.'"

I snorted. "Great. Just what I wanted. I'll slap that right on the car."

He wrapped his arm around my waist as we walked out. "Hey, you're the one who wanted excitement. Now you get the perks."

"Perks?" I shot him a look. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

He shrugged, glancing down at the designer purse slung over his arm. "Well, I am holdin' your Louboutin purse, so yeah, I'd say I'm earnin' some perks here. Really gettin' into this high life."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh yeah. Slim Shady rockin' a Louboutin. That's a real look."

He smirked. "I think it suits me."

The doctor had given us the usual list of instructions: rest, no heavy lifting, no baths. Keep taking the progesterone. All standard stuff. But Marshall? He was in full-on protective mode, hovering like he was scared I'd break.

"You're really gonna carry my purse the whole way?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Doctor's orders," he said with a shrug, looking way too pleased with himself.

I rolled my eyes but didn't argue. The truth was, I was exhausted. Emotionally drained more than anything. Having him hover wasn't so bad, even if he did look ridiculous with my purse.

———

When we got home, Marshall couldn't sit still. He kept flipping channels, trying to focus on anything other than the wait. But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched when he thought I wasn't looking.

We were both terrified. We just weren't saying it out loud.

I lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the waiting settle in. The next two weeks were going to be brutal. Every little twinge, every shift in my body would have me questioning if it worked, if this was it. Or if we were back to square one.

But for now, Marshall was here, holding my purse, cracking jokes when I needed them, and reminding me that whatever happens, we're in this together.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to get us through.