I looked at Noah. “Yeah, we’d like to find out if we could,” I answered, looking back at the screen. She nodded, turning the screen a little so she could see it better to take her measurements.
That process took about fifteen minutes, and once she was done, she turned the screen toward me more and called Noah over. “Are you ready?”
“Sure are.” Noah sent me a wink, taking my hand and giving it a firm squeeze.
“It’s a girl,” Allison said, her smile wide. I expected Noah to gloat, to shoot me a see, told you so look, but he was captivated by the screen. She clicked a few buttons, zooming in to show us the evidence.
Allison printed off a few photos of the ultrasound for us, then the appointment was over. I wiped the ultrasound goop off my stomach with a paper towel, tossing it in the trash and standing.
Noah stepped toward me, putting his arms around me and pulling me against him. “Thank you for letting me be a part of this. That was probably the coolest thing I’ve ever experienced.”
Noah was an excellent hugger. His tender embrace made me feel safe, and his earnest words had me overcome with emotion. “Well, it looks like you were right about the baby being a girl.”
“I would have been happy either way,” Noah assured me, pressing a kiss to my temple. “But I do love hearing you say that I was right. Say it again?”
“Don’t get used to it,” I said, narrowing my eyes playfully.
Noah helped me into my coat, and we left, walking to his truck. “I think we have time to get something to eat before the next appointment. What are you craving?”
“I could actually go for pizza, or maybe pasta,” I replied, mulling over between the two.
“You’re in luck. There’s a decent Italian place around the corner that has both pizza and pasta,” Noah grinned.
We went to an Italian restaurant in Springwood, halfway between the hospital and my OB’s office. They had an overwhelming menu to choose from. Since I was craving pizza and pasta, we decided to order both and split them, as well as an order of bruschetta bread for an appetizer.
We ordered our drinks and an appetizer first. For the main course, I ordered the creamy cappelletti with bacon, and then Noah made me pick the pizza, too. I went with the Honey pizza. It had a garlic base with pineapple, caramelized onion, bacon, and feta.
After relaying our order to the server, and watching her walk away, Noah had the audacity to admit he didn’t like pineapple on pizza.
“Why did you let me pick that, then!” I exclaimed, flabbergasted.
“Because you got so excited about it. I don’t mind, maybe it’ll sway me.” Noah leaned back in his chair. “And if I hate it, there’s always the cappelletti.”
I shook my head. “I bet you’ll love it,” I declared, eyeing him with confidence.
“Oh really? What do you want to bet?”
“I guess my cappelletti.” I pouted, not liking the idea of giving it up even if I was certain he’d like the pizza.
When the server arrived with our main course, I made Noah take the first slice of pizza, eyeing him the entire time he chewed. His face belayed nothing, and I fidgeted impatiently while he considered it.
“You were right—I like it. The pineapple is oddly complimentary,” he finally said.
I ended up giving him half of my cappelletti anyway.
* * *
Noah
* * *
Nellie’s OB, Dr. Kramer, walked into the exam room with a friendly smile. “So, I was checking out the results from your ultrasound this morning! Everything looks great with the baby.”
“That’s a relief,” Nellie relaxed, the tension leaving her shoulders.
“And we also got the results from the DNA test. Do you want me to go over them now?” she asked, glancing at me, then returning her gaze to Nellie.
“Sure.” Nellie reached for my hand, taking it in hers. Normally, I was the one reaching for her hand, but this was a welcome change.
