Valentine is 22 and just graduated college with a PHD in Child Development. After her parents died on her birthday and she was thrown into the foster system she developed a passion for kids and their mental capacities.
Her life was regular to her n...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The waiting room at the women's center on Atlantic smelled like peppermint and clean linen. Valentine sat in one of the cushioned chairs with her hands folded over her belly, which had officially entered the stage where strangers felt comfortable asking when she was due. She'd started wearing fitted clothes again. Not to show off. Just because hiding felt like going backwards.
Quincy sat beside her, legs spread, one ankle crossed over the other, scrolling his phone like this was any other Tuesday. But she could tell he was nervous. His knee bounced. He'd already read every pamphlet on the wall twice. When the receptionist called another patient's name, he looked up so fast Valentine had to press her lips together to keep from smiling.
"You good?" she asked.
"I'm great. Why?"
"Because you've been bouncing that knee for ten minutes."
"My knee does what it wants."
"Your knee is anxious."
"My knee is fine, Valentine."
She let it go, still fighting the smile.
This was their fourth appointment together. He'd been at every one since Thursday three weeks ago. Showed up early to each one. Asked the doctor questions she hadn't even thought of. Wrote things down in the notes app on his phone. He'd already researched placenta previa more thoroughly than most medical students and had asked Dr. Achebe about migration rates, delivery options, and warning signs with the focus of a man preparing for war.
Dr. Achebe loved him. She'd told Valentine privately that he was the most involved partner she'd seen in years. Valentine had almost cried in the hallway.
"Valentine Clove?"
They stood. Quincy's hand went to the small of her back without thinking. She let it stay.
Dr. Achebe greeted them warmly. The room was dim for the ultrasound, the monitor glowing blue in the corner. Valentine lay back on the table, shirt pulled up, belly exposed. The gel was cold and she flinched the same way she had every time.
"Still cold?" Dr. Achebe asked, smiling.
"Every single time."
The wand pressed against her skin and the screen filled with shapes. The grainy black and white image shifted as Dr. Achebe moved, searching, adjusting. Then the sound filled the room. Fast and rhythmic. A heartbeat. Their baby's heartbeat.
Quincy went still beside her. She looked over and saw his jaw tighten, his eyes locked on the screen, his hand gripping the armrest of the chair. This wasn't the first time he'd heard it but it hit him the same way every time. Like the sound was rearranging something inside him that he couldn't put back.
"Strong heartbeat," Dr. Achebe said. "Growth is right on track. The placenta has started to migrate upward which is exactly what we want to see."
"So the previa is improving?" Quincy asked immediately.
