Refrain (Soul Series Book 3) by Kennedy Ryan

agonizingly slow. Meanwhile, I’m picturing a tumor the size of a watermelon on your ovaries. Spit it out.”
    “Because of the phone thing I missed my emails and voice mails,” I rush on to say before he can interrupt again. “And I missed my appointment.”
    “Okay. You told me that.” He squints at me, confusion all over his face. “That’s why we’re here, right?”
    “I missed my shot, Rhyson,” I say meaningfully. “You know. My birth control shot. By almost six weeks actually.”
    “Six weeks.” I can see the facts connecting in his head before his eyes meet mine. A question is already forming there, but he doesn’t ask the real question.
    “So we’ve been having unprotected sex for six weeks. Is that what you’re telling me?”
    I nod, licking my lips and fidgeting with the edges of my paper gown.
    “I’m pregnant,” I whisper, afraid to raise my eyes. In case he’s angry. In case he’s as thrown as I am.
    An almost undetectable sound from the air conditioner fan is all I hear for a few moments. When I finally look up, Rhyson’s mouth is hanging open and his eyes are fixed on my stomach.
    “You’re . . . you’re . . . what?” He sounds almost breathless.
    “I’m preg—”
    The rest of the word doesn’t make it past my lips. Rhyson snatches me off the table and holds me so tight that if I had stuffing it would all be squeezed out of me. My feet dangle inches above the floor.
    “Rhyson, baby, put me down,” I mumble into his neck.
    He sets me on my feet and pulls back to peer into my face. There is no anger or disappointment or uncertainty.
    “This is amazing.” He shakes his head, a dazed look still in his eyes. “I can’t believe this. Oh, my God, Pep. Can you believe it?”
    No, I really can’t, but Dr. Allister’s light tap on the door comes before I can respond.
    “Okay to come in?” she asks. Her eyes flick to Rhyson, widening a little with recognition. “Mr. Gray, hello.”
    “Hi.” Rhyson studies the cart the nurse rolls in behind the doctor. “I hear we’re having a baby.”
    “I believe you are.” She extends her hand. “Dr. Allister, by the way.”
    “Nice to meet you.” He returns the handshake and offers that famous devastating smile. “Rhyson.”
    “Yes, well.” Dr. Allister flushes a little while she snaps on rubber gloves. Always a comforting sound. “Let’s take a look.”
    I smile weakly and lie back on the table when she instructs me to.
    “I’m going to do a transvaginal ultrasound. It’s the most accurate way to determine how far along you are,” Dr. Allister says. “Are you fine with your fiancé being present for that?”
    Rhyson looks slightly panicked like I might actually ask him to step outside and he’ll miss something.
    “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I find his hand and squeeze.
    Rhyson smiles, shifting his eyes from me to the doctor and then to the machine with the flat screen mounted on it.
    I lie back and rest my feet in the stirrups. This should be incredibly awkward with Rhyson in the room, but he’s near my head, holding my hand. His eyes never leave the screen even though there’s nothing to see yet.
    “You’ll feel a different kind of pressure than with a typical pelvic exam,” Dr. Allister says. “This probe will be moving around to get shots of what’s going on inside.”
    The probe is a bit uncomfortable, but not too bad. It just takes a few seconds to get used to. A grey mass appears onscreen.
    “Here’s what we’re looking for.” Dr. Allister points to a dark blob in the grey sea of my uterus. “This is the gestational sac. The yolk sac that tells us for sure we’ve got a baby in there. About four weeks and a few days, I’d say.”
    I glance from the blobby uterine world onscreen to Rhyson’s face. His expression is absolutely rapt, his attention fully taken by the little pouch our kid is living in.
    “Is there a heartbeat?” Anxiety tightens his expression. “Shouldn’t we hear a