Avery’s POV
The waiting room smelled of disinfectant and cheap air freshener, neither strong enough to hide the stale air.
I moved slightly on the uncomfortable plastic chair with my hand pressed against my belly.
The baby inside me had been kicking all morning long, like it sensed something I didn’t.
“Avery Monroe?” The nurse called from the doorway.
I stood slowly, grabbing my purse. My back ached from the morning shift at the diner, five hours on my feet before Mrs. Woods practically shoved me out the door.
“You’re seven months gone, honey,” she said, her hands on her hips. “You have an appointment. Go.”
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, reminding me of the broken ones outside the diner that never got replaced.
I walked behind the nurse, through a session of cramped exam
