“Are you kidding? I feel like James Bond.” I take in the rest of the room as I move closer. There’s a chair up against the wall, a rolling stool, a sink, and what I assume is the ultrasound machine with its wand thing sitting in some kind of holster. “Although Bond probably doesn’t pit out from nerves.”
She grins, and some of the tension in her shoulders eases. “You’re nervous?”
“Terrified.” I scoot the chair closer to her head and take a seat. “My nose on a newborn? That should come with a warning label.”
“Your nose isfine.”
“It’s been broken three times.”
“Still fine.” She reaches out and takes my hand, her fingers cold against mine. “Thank you for being here.”
“Where else would I be?”
Before she can answer, the door opens again, and a woman in navy scrubs walks in. She’s in her mid-forties, with a friendly smile and the efficient energy of someone who’s done this a thousand times.
“Hi, Piper. I’m Suzie, your ultrasound tech.” She extends her hand to me. “And you must be Dad.”
Dad.
I’m glad I’m sitting down, because the word steals my breath. I’m going to be a dad. Not a guardian or a temporary fill-in, but an actual father to a tiny human who’s half me and half Piper and fully themselves.
“Felix,” I manage, giving a little wave. “Felix Barlowe.”
“Nice to meet you, Felix.” If she recognizes my name, she doesn’t show it. She turns to wash her hands at the sink, then rolls the stool over to the ultrasound machine. “Let’s take a look at this baby, Mom and Dad.” She offers Piper a smile. “This is going to be a little cold.”
She squirts gel onto Piper’s stomach, which only shows signs of a tiny swell, and Piper gasps then gives a nervous laugh. “More like Arctic tundra freezing.”
“Sorry.” Suzie doesn’t sound sorry at all as she picks up the wand. “You’ll warm up in a second.”
I’m still holding Piper’s hand, but I can’t take my eyes off the monitor. It’s just gray static as Suzie moves the wand across Piper’s belly, also focusing on the screen.
“Here we go,” she murmurs.
Then I see it.
It’s a shadowy blob until Suzie angles the probe and the image snaps into a recognizable shape.
“Say hi to your baby,” she murmurs.
Our baby.
Holy hell.
Piper leans in. “Is that the head?”
“Exactly.” Suzie traces along the rounded shape. “That bright line right there is the spine.” She taps a few keys. “Baby’s measuring right on track for fourteen weeks.”
More tapping, and numbers that don’t mean a thing to me pop up on the monitor. “The crown-rump length is good.”
“Crown-rump,” I repeat. “Sounds like something I’d order at a fancy steakhouse.”
Suzie laughs. “Well, this one’s much cuter.”
I’m not sure about that because, honestly, I can’t discern much. Then Suzie adjusts the wand, and the baby’s profile appears. There’s a tiny nose, a rounded forehead, and hands with actual fingers near their face. I see a real person.Ourperson.
Piper’s breath catches. “Can we hear the heartbeat?” she asks.
“Of course.” Suzie clicks a button to switch modes but frowns when there’s just static.
