Claiming Serenity(74)

It was the guilt she felt for her father’s treatment of him that had Layla telling him he didn’t need to bother playing the role of doting expectant father. So that February, when Layla was eight weeks pregnant she went to her first doctor’s appointment alone. She heard the baby’s heartbeat in that office with the cold gel on her skin and an ultrasound rod pushing around on her stomach. Layla cried quietly the entire time.

She’d never told Donovan about the emotional upheaval of that day. He’d become so worried about her, especially since that night months back when they finally came together again. When that hot shower had led to an endless night of re-exploring each other’s bodies. Now, three months later with her and Donovan having sex nearly every night, her round belly had made the little creature growing inside her impossible to ignore.

At her five month appointment, though, Layla would not be alone.

Donovan had insisted.

Layla had already gained at least ten pounds and there was no mistaking the belly anymore. She’d been stared at more often as she walked around campus and into her last semester classrooms. She’d had to adjust her wardrobe, grateful that her mother, at least, was supporting her, helping her out financially with tuition and cash when she needed it. But Layla couldn’t justify her mother spending exorbitant amounts of money on a maternity wardrobe. Not when Layla knew she could adjust a few hems in her shirts and skirts.

It was the pregnancy that gave Layla the idea about designs she hoped would cement her a spot at Parsons, perhaps a few semesters later than she wanted, but still with enough time so that she could finish up graduate school before she turned twenty-six. The pregnancy was something she hadn’t expected or wanted, really, but it birthed plenty of ideas for chic maternity wear that would satisfy even the most fashion forward expectant mother.

Still, those fresh ideas and the creative buzz that came along with gestational growth could not take away the heartache that was looming—the heartache that Layla expected would only grow once Donovan joined her for the five month sonogram.

He had done what she’d asked. Layla hadn’t wanted either of them to get attached. It would make the events post-birth too painful to bear. So they called the baby “it” and they never discussed what they thought it would look like. They never talked about names or expectations of what of Donovan’s it would have, or what of Layla’s might end up on its tiny body. She didn’t like to think about a little baby with her eyes and Donovan’s perfect cheekbones. Layla didn’t want to guess if it would be tall like its father or have white blonde hair like her.

She’d even stopped Autumn when she wanted to guess about the sex, or even what Layla “felt” like she was having, whatever that meant. Her friends, of course, had been so supportive, but Layla caught how often Autumn frowned when she changed whatever baby-centric subject Autumn wanted to discuss.

“I think it might be a girl,” the redhead had told Layla one afternoon as she sat in Mollie’s new living room, going through color swatches Mollie was considering for the kitchen. “A little girl with your legs and Donovan’s…”

“Autumn,” Layla had stopped her. “Please don’t.”

Her friends had tempered their baby questions after that day and Layla appreciated their sensitivity. She’s encouraged Donovan to do the same. He had. They kept the baby out of their minds and focused on dealing with their last semester at Cavanagh. They discussed what would happen after… after the birth, after the adoption, after graduation. It was assumed that they’d stay together, though “together” wasn’t something they’d discussed either. He’d hinted at going to New York, telling her he’d like a change of pace, that his cousin owned an apartment in SoHo that they could sublet if Parsons accepted her. But they never discussed emotions or feelings or if they’d continue a life together in New York as roommates who occasionally slept together or as… well, whatever else there was.

They’d discussed the adoptive parents they interviewed and Layla’s birth plan, but she didn’t want him at her appointments and they never talked about the baby as a person.

Until the night before when they were making love and Donovan accidently grazed her expanding stomach.

“I… I think it moved.”

“What?” she’d said, not trusting that look on his face, worried that she’d spotted a trace of wonder in his features. “How could you feel it and I didn’t?

“Layla, I’m telling you, the baby moved.”

The smile on his face and that excited glint in his eyes had completely killed the mood and Layla rolled over, told Donovan she was tired and he’d insisted on coming along with her to her appointment.