A Little Bit of Guilt by A. E. Murphy

Author:A. E. Murphy [Murphy, A. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

“Stop bouncing your knee,” I hiss at Mason.

He’s looking at the other women in the room, women at all stages of pregnancy. He’s nervous and I see the partners of the pregnant women give him sympathetic glances.

“Sorry,” he mutters and stands, looping his hands around the back of his head. He stretches from side to side, twisting his torso this way and that. His T-shirt rises showing a line of dark hair that leads to a place only I’m allowed to explore.

It’s totally normal to get turned on by that no matter where I am, I decide.

“Is it our turn yet?”

I roll my eyes. “I know as much as you do.”

He walks to a wall full of cards that offer the different doctors their thanks and love. Some have pictures attached of the babies. So cute.

He glances at me and smiles nervously. I wonder what he’s thinking about, this is the first time I’ve seen him so on edge.

“You okay?”

Looking around us at the half-full waiting area, he decides not to answer and instead takes the seat beside me again and bounces his leg.

I snort and rest my head against his muscular shoulder.

“Everything is going to be fine,” I whisper.

“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?” he grumbles, pouting like a little boy. “I’m sorry, Summer, it’s all getting a bit real. I’m freaking out.”

“Me too,” I respond as a door on the far-left wall of the peach-colored room opens.

“Mrs. Barnes?”

I stand up, feeling giddy and nervous. Mason follows, looking equally nervous.

He takes my hand and leads me past a small table full of building blocks. I shuffle on, swallowing as I pray that everything is okay with the baby.

After seeing what Loryn went through I am of course terrified, though I won’t show it. Not while Mason looks so anxious himself.

I hope he’s anxious because he’s worried about the health, and not hoping for a lack thereof. Maybe he’s hoping the pregnancy will end itself, so he doesn’t have to continue.

I mentally slap myself for such vile thoughts, my own anxiety is putting them in my head. Mason would never think like that.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Dr. Bala.” I shake the woman’s hand, noticing how pale my skin is against hers in contrast. It’s what we call ginger-people skin. I look deathly ill compared to her gorgeous, burnt-cinnamon complexion.

“I have a soft spot for military couples, it wasn’t a hardship squeezing you in,” she tells us with a soft smile and a heavy Bronx accent. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, no, actually it’s Smith. Mason Smith.” He shakes her hand too.

“I haven’t legally changed my name,” I explain, feeling my cheeks heat as Dr. Bala leads me to the bed that’s almost in the center of the peach room. Whoever designed this place really appreciated peach. “I’m getting a divorce.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not,” Mason jests, winking at me.

I snort and look at the doctor. “I’m sorry that it’s complicated.”

“It’s not

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