"I love you but if you're going into labor, please do it in Patrick's office," I said, gesturing to the door. "I really don't think I'm qualified to assist in that kind of live action situation. And this rug is two hundred years old. We can't be destroying the rug."
"Say that to me while you're choking on my dick," she muttered before glancing back to me with a smile. "How are things? With you and Tiel?"
She asked some iteration of this question with some frequency, and though I'd initially interpreted it as a sideways comment about my marriage, I now knew it was her way of offering her support. She was there for us, willing to doanythingwe needed,anytime, and that realization made me hate the petty, self-centered disdain with which I'd once handled her involvement in my life.
"Good," I said, and I couldn't stop the smile from breaking across my face.
"Good?" she repeated. "Orgood?"
"Good," I said.
"Good," she breathed, nodding. "Oh, fuck. Between this" —she paused, pressing her hands to her chest, tears shiny in her eyes— "and Riley's four-million-dollar project, and Andy getting rid of the Castavechias, and the work on my house isfinallyfinished, I'm going to sob like a little bitch all day, aren't I?"
I nudged the tissue box in her direction. "The deal was finalized? The Marlborough Street brownstone that Riley's been sweating for weeks?"
Her head bobbed in agreement as she blew her nose. "It's in rough shape but the owners went bananas for Riley's design. Didn't even meet with the other architects they were considering. They upped the budget to get all the extras he proposed, too, because they fucking loved everything he had in mind," she said. "I mean, he did spill water all over himself during the presentation and I think he was wearing two different boat shoes, but they couldn't stop throwing money at him."
"It's his brand," I joked. "The mismatched, disheveled savant who's running creative laps around the rest of us."
We sat in silence for several minutes as Shannon worked to find a comfortable arrangement on the sofa. Occasionally she spoke to her belly in a sweet voice, and I couldn't hold back a smile when she informed the baby it was time to stop kicking her bladder and take a nap.
"I should probably waddle down the stairs now," she said. "But first—get your ass over here and hug me because I fucking love yourgoodnews."
The waiting wasnotthe worst. It was sitting in doctor's office, surrounded by women at every stage of pregnancy, knowing that we were minutes away from discovering something—anything—about our little band geek. Only positive, baby-filled thoughts were allowed into my consciousness, but the dark ones were right there on the edges, begging to take control.
The door swung open, and it felt like our wait was over.
"Tiel Walsh," the nurse called.
She reached for her bag as she stood, and glanced up at me when I joined her. She was wearing a navy blue tunic and leggings, but there was no mistaking the roundness in her belly. That shirt wasn't going to fit much longer.
Tiel offered a concerned frown. She knew I hated these places. "You're sure you want to come along?"
"Of course I'm coming," I said, reaching for her hand. "I'd never expect you to do this alone, and I'm selfish. I don't want to wait to see our little band geek."
With her free hand, she touched her tummy. "Band geeks are all about timing and precision. This is no band geek. An abstract artist, maybe, or a little composer making it up as he goes along."
I shot a quick smirk in her direction. "Sound like anyone you know, Sunshine?"
We followed the nurse down a winding corridor, and into a narrow room. "The doctor wants to start with the ultrasound," the nurse said, nodding toward the exam table. "Hop on up."
The nurse chattered on about the weather, the girls' weekend to Miami she was planning with her book club friends, and her holiday shopping woes as she took Tiel's vitals and got her positioned on the table, and it diffused some of the tension.
"Doctor Opydo will be in shortly," she said.
Once the door whispered shut, Tiel sucked in a quivering breath and turned wide, anxious eyes on me.
"Whatever happens," Tiel said, reaching out for my hand, "we're going to figure it out. We're going to make it work. Everything's going to be fine.Weare going to be fine. Promise me."
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and I squeezed her hand. "Always, Sunshine. We'll always figure it out. There is nothing that can happen today that we can't survive."
"Okay, and don't call the babyit," she said, her hand dropping to her bump. "The poor kid has been through enough already, with me not noticing him for more than two months and all."
"Him," I confirmed, and Tiel nodded. "Consider it done."
Doctor Opydo knocked, and entered the darkened room after a pause. "Good to see you two again," she said. She gestured to the flat screen monitor beside the table. "Let's have a look, and then we'll get some measurements and listen to the heartbeat."
When Tiel nodded, the doctor folded the sheet covering her abdomen down. I kept my lips on her temple and her hand in mine, and I watched as the screen filled with blurry patches. Tiel turned her face toward my chest, her eyes shut.
