Three weeks later
For the third morning in a row, Layla found herself on her knees hugging the toilet as wave after wave of nausea washed over her. When she finally felt comfortable enough to stand and not pass out or throw up, she rinsed her face off and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and her skin looked pale and felt clammy to the touch.
She wasn't an expert on the subject, but she had a feeling something was up. Something she dreaded to admit. She crossed her arms across her chest and winced at the telltale soreness.
Nausea, tenderness, exhaustion...and when was the last time she'd had a period? Between the grief, crazy recording schedule, and sparse eating habits, she couldn't even begin to remember her last one...Not since Jeff...wait. Or was it? So many weeks blurred together that the last one she for sure remembered was when Jeff had been on the road with Juliette and she was glad it hadn't interfered with anything. But that was months ago. Surely, she'd had one since then and just didn't remember.
It's not like they hadn't taken precautions. They were both pretty good about being responsible. Well, except for that one time a few weeks before Atlanta. He'd hurried back to Nashville after they hadn't seen each other in two weeks. He'd called her that morning- Juliette was taking a couple of days off and he was hopping on a plane in Dallas. He had to see her, missed her too much. When he'd knocked on the door, she'd ran to answer it, jumping onto him, hands in his hair, kisses landing any and everywhere as they'd practically attacked each other. Clothes started coming off and his zipper was down before he'd had a chance to fully shut the door, much less slide on a condom. They'd stared at each other wide-eyed afterward.
"Did we just..." she'd started, still beneath him on the living room floor. They hadn't even made it to the bedroom.
"Um, yeah. I think we did," Jeff confirmed, raising himself onto his elbows.
"Oh my," she whispered, a mixture of thrill and fear coursing through her veins, her heart still beating wildly from sex.
"What's the likelihood of...you know," he'd asked casually.
"Not likely," she guessed. What else would she say? The chance really was minimal, even if they'd been trying. She'd read that in a magazine somewhere- how there was only like a 20 percent chance a woman could get pregnant every month if all conditions were perfect. A one time slip up was hardly perfect conditions.
"Too bad," he'd said with a wink.
"You don't mean that," she pouted, his jibe unintentionally rubbing her the wrong way.
"Layla, come on. Let's save this conversation for a date and time in the far off future. You don't want a baby right now. Your career is just taking off," he'd explained, trying to soothe her and reason with her.
"But what if I did get pregnant? Would you at least be a little happy?"
He'd sat up and pulled her onto his lap, tucking her head beneath his chin. She could hear his heart beating beneath her ear.
"Happy? I don't know how I would feel- I've never thought about it. I know that I would try to be a good dad. But hey, I promised you I wouldn't leave you, and I mean it. I can't live without you, babe. So you don't need to try and get pregnant to keep me, okay?" His teasing culminated with a kiss to her neck and they'd gotten up and moved to the bed near the supply of condoms in the drawer, the conversation forgotten.
And then there was that one other time in the shower in Atlanta. Their last time together when she'd taken him by surprise and the combination of heat, hurry and the excitement of moving in together made protection the last thing on either of their minds and neither of them had cared. Something about the surety of knowing their future together and his basic guarantee of becoming Luke's CEO made it not seem like such a big deal. Neither she nor Jeff mentioned it afterward and he'd held her a little longer than normal, too, especially for still being in the shower.
"Layla, you mean the world to me," he'd murmured against her neck before kissing her again during one of the most intimate moments of their relationship.
"Right back at you," she'd replied, taking his face in her hands and finding his lips with hers as the spray of the shower rained over them.
Unfortunately, also now nagging at the back of her mind was the more recent incident with Luke, who had, of course, used protection, but what if the condom broke? She hated that she couldn't completely rule out the possibility that he could have gotten her pregnant.
She studied her pale reflection in the mirror. First things first. She'd have to get a test to even make sure that what she suspected was true. She'd wait for absolute confirmation before she'd worry about who the father was- her dead lover or the reigning king of country.
She stared down at the line of tests on the bathroom counter. Seven for seven. Various plus signs, double lines and the blaring word "pregnant" stared back at her. Layla put her head in her hands, overwhelmed. So many emotions flooded over her and processing this huge revelation through the veil of grief and guilt she wore proved more difficult than anything she'd faced since Jeff's passing.
She was pregnant. Carrying someone's child. She placed a hand over her stomach, knowing that deep within her, a baby was forming. From somewhere near where her heart used to be, she felt the first spark of hope when she realized that it was very possible a part of Jeff lived on inside of her.
"Please be Jeff's baby, please be his," she said aloud. No other rational thoughts ran through her mind. She wouldn't think about the impact on her career, the slim possibility that it could be Luke's, or how she'd have to raise the baby on her own. All she could think about was Jeff's baby. Their baby. A love child.
She hugged her belly and for the first time in months, she really smiled.
But with the dawn of a new day and another bout of morning sickness, reality began to settle in. What was she going to do? She was alone. Still working on an album that hadn't dropped yet and she hadn't booked a gig in over two months. If she had a huge following and a sold out tour, a pregnancy wouldn't be the end of the world. It might even boost a career. But it just made her, Layla Grant, indie country artist, a harder sale than she already was.
So no one was going to find out about this baby until she couldn't hide it any longer. She'd visit her doctor, have them sign nondisclosure agreements and make sure everything checked out okay as soon as possible, but other than the doctor, she would tell no one her secret.
Thankfully, a quick call into her doctor and a studio session rearrangement and she had an appointment for that same afternoon. She wanted to know how many weeks pregnant she was. Most people could figure this out easy enough, but most people hadn't recently lost their lover and lived in a haze where dates and time didn't seem relevant enough to remember.
At her doctor's office, Layla gave Dr. Abell, the ob/gyn she'd started seeing when she first married Will another lifetime ago, all the information she could, and a urine and blood sample, too. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Abell came back into the examination room with the news that wasn't really news to her.
"Layla, you're pregnant," she said without frills.
"I know. What I want to find out is how far along I am and if everything is alright," Layla explained, fidgeting on the exam table, the paper gown rustling in protest.
"Let's take a look and find out," Dr. Abell said, putting on a pair of gloves and gesturing for Layla to lie back as she picked up the ultrasound wand. When Layla was on her back, the doctor lifted the top portion of the gown and squirted too warm jelly all over Layla's stomach.
Layla took a deep breath and bit her lip as the doctor moved the wand over her belly. She watched as the screen lit up, and an image that looked already very much like a little baby displayed across the monitor. She'd expected a blip, a blob, a little foreign looking thing. Not something so clearly defined with legs and arms and hands and a cute little profile.
"Ohhh," Layla breathed as the sound of the strong, fast little baby heartbeat filled the room. The doctor took scans and typed a few things on the monitor.
"Everything looks good, Layla. Based off the measurements, I'd put you at roughly 12 weeks, give or take a few days. Does that sound about right to you?" She eyed Layla.
"Yes, that sounds perfectly right," Layla said, a tear slipping from her eye as she watched her and Jeff's baby move around on the screen.