Chapter 4 - The Appointment She Tried to Keep
The clinic put an additional verification procedure on my records at my request.
Dr. Lane explained the options herself.
I chose who could receive information.
I chose how the office could contact me.
The conversation took fifteen minutes.
For the first time in months, safety felt like something built with me.
When I told Roman, he didn’t ask why he hadn’t been included automatically.
He asked, “What would you like me to know?”
“Your aunt tried to get my appointment schedule.”
His voice changed.
“Did they give it to her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“That isn’t the whole problem.”
“I know.”
But I wasn’t certain he did until the following morning.
He forwarded a letter from his attorney, provided in a format I could read easily.
Celeste no longer had authority to direct household staff, contact my providers, or make representations on Roman’s behalf concerning me.
She had been asked to preserve communications related to my whereabouts.
The wording was plain.
The consequences were real.
An hour later, Roman called.
“She’s furious.”
“How do you feel?”
“Relieved. Then guilty about feeling relieved.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter.
“That sounds familiar.”
For once, we shared a small laugh that didn’t require pretending.
At my next appointment, I invited him.
Elias brought him to reception, then waited outside.
Roman remained seated until the nurse called us.
When we entered the examination room, he asked where he should stand.
“Chair on your left,” I said.
His fingers found its back.
The room smelled faintly of disinfectant and the peppermint gum the nurse had been chewing.
I remembered the first appointment.
The shock.
The door opening.
My body braced itself.
Roman must have heard the change in my breathing, because he spoke quietly.
“Would you prefer I wait outside?”
“No.”
I surprised myself.
“I want you here. I’m just remembering.”
“All right.”
Dr. Lane explained what she was examining.
The twins had grown.
Their heartbeats filled the room, quick and separate.
Roman bowed his head.
Tears moved beneath the edge of his dark glasses.
He didn’t reach for me.
He didn’t ask the doctor whether I was eating properly or whether my apartment met his standards.
He listened.
Then Dr. Lane asked whether we had questions.
Roman turned toward me.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
“What should I learn before they’re born?”
It was such a different question from the one I expected that my throat tightened.
Dr. Lane discussed ordinary preparation: classes, support, the practical demands of two newborns, and the ways we could learn infant care together.
Roman asked about classes accessible to blind parents.
She promised to connect him with resources.
No one treated his blindness as a reason he couldn’t be a father.
No one treated his money as a qualification.
When the appointment ended, I held out my hand.
“Roman.”
He turned toward my voice.
“Here.”
His fingers touched mine.
I placed his palm against the small curve beneath my sweater.
“There’s nothing to feel yet.”
His breath caught anyway.
“Hello,” he whispered.
One word.
Not a promise.
Not a claim.
A greeting.
I let myself keep the moment.
Outside the clinic, Elias approached carefully.
“The investigator called,” he told Roman.
I pulled my hand back.
“What happened?”
Roman faced me.
“Would you like to hear the update?”
“Yes.”
Elias lowered his voice.
“The phone used to send the photograph was purchased through an expense account tied to Victor’s consulting company.”
My stomach tightened.
“That doesn’t prove who sent it.”
“No,” Roman said. “But it gives the investigators something to follow.”
“There’s more,” Elias said.
His discomfort returned.
“What?”
“Victor continued billing for surveillance after you instructed him to stop.”
Roman became very still.
“How long?”
“Until last week.”
I looked at him.
He couldn’t see my expression.
He didn’t need to.
“For weeks,” I said, “someone watched me while you believed telling them to stop was enough.”
Roman’s face tightened with pain.
May you like
Then he said the thing I needed to hear.
“Yes. And I should have checked.”
