“Can we put a pin in this? Just until a doctor confirms the results of this home test?”
“Sure.” He reached for me, and I fell into the comfort of his arms. “How do those fireworks sound?”
I hugged his muscular frame. “Perfect, actually.”
Hours later, while we were spread out on a blanket, watching pyrotechnics light up the night sky, John’s hand skimmed over my hip to settle on my lower belly, and he whispered in my ear, “A baby, Ro.”
Though I was more scared than I’d ever been—which was saying something after having witnessed the brutality and violence of mafia life—a tiny flicker of hope lit up inside my chest as my hand joined John’s atop the spot where there could very well be a baby growing inside me.
Maybe, just maybe, this curveball that had been thrown my way would allow me to find happiness for the first time in my life.
There was nothing more awkward in this world than sitting in an exam room, wearing nothing but a flimsy paper gown, while waiting for a doctor to make their grand entrance.
Okay, correction.
There was nothing more awkward in this world than sitting in an exam room, wearing nothing but a flimsy paper gown, while waiting for a doctor to make their grand entrancewith an audience.
It was a good thing the nurse had already taken my blood pressure, because John’s pacing of the ten-by-ten room was stressing me out. I’d asked him to stop more than once, and he would sit in the chair near the exam table, but within minutes, he was back on his feet, resuming the restless motion.
I suppose it could have been worse. He could have been overly interested in the 3D model of the female reproductive system on the counter or in the posters on the wall depicting fetal growth month by month and the progression of a baby’s head through the birth canal.
Personally, I’d been actively trying to avoid eye contact with that last one since entering the room. There was absolutely no part of me that wanted to visualize the destruction childbirth would wreak on my vagina. It was bad enough that I was headed toward that moment myself.
Maybe. Possibly. Depending on how this appointment went.
Yes, I was still firmly rooted in denial, even though I still hadn’t gotten my period and had taken to hugging the toilet bowl most mornings. Pregnancy couldn’t be the only condition or illness linked to those symptoms, right?
Keep dreaming, girl.
There was a light knock before the door cracked open, and the doctor stepped inside the room. With a smile on his face, he introduced himself, “Hi, Ro. I’m Dr. Levy. How are you feeling this afternoon?”
“Anxious,” I answered truthfully on an exhale.
“Perfectly normal.” Hooking the rolling stool with his foot to bring it closer, Dr. Levy sat down. “We ran a urinalysis thatconfirmed your pregnancy, but I’d like to perform an ultrasound to get an exact estimate of how far along you are and determine a due date, if that’s all right with you?”
Swallowing thickly, I nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
I was so on edge that when movement caught the corner of my eye, it startled me so badly I levitated about six inches off the exam table. I gasped, my hand flying to my chest, willing my rapidly beating heart to settle.
It was only John, but with my mind elsewhere—namely, debating whether I should continue with this pregnancy—I’d forgotten that he had accompanied me to the appointment.
He stepped up to my side, drawing the attention of Dr. Levy.
The doctor extended a hand. “The father, I presume?”
“That’s correct,” John confirmed as they shook.
“This is John,” I said, since he hadn’t bothered to give his name. Maybe he was nervous too.
“Nice to meet you, John.” Setting down the tablet containing my chart, Dr. Levy pulled on a pair of latex gloves before prepping the ultrasound machine.
John leaned in, keeping his voice low. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with a male doctor poking around”—his eyes shifted to where my thighs were now spread wide with my feet in the stirrups—“down there?”
I reached for his hand. “I’ve found that men are far gentler than women.”
“Really?” He pulled back with an arched eyebrow.
A lift of my shoulders had the paper beneath me crinkling nosily. “At least, that’s been my experience. The female doctors I’ve encountered in the past have had the mentality of ‘suck it up; I’ve been through it too’.”
