“Okay. I’ll talk to her, Savannah. I promise.”
I couldn’t tell if I’d truly gotten through to him or not. But his assurance would have to do for the moment.
“Thank you.”
I leaned my head back as a light breeze blew through my hair. The air on the balcony of Jenna’s apartment felt heavenly. She shared it with a United Airlines flight attendant based out of SFO who was out of town five or six days of every week, so she had it to herself most of the time, and it was definitely nicer than my place.
I took a sip of my Paloma-Rita mocktail; Jenna had found cans of them at the grocery store and grabbed a six-pack for us. We poured them into margarita glasses so they felt like the real thing, just like they did at the High Note.
“I’m torn,” I told her. “Dr. Quinlan’s office called to schedule my twenty-week ultrasound. They told me I’ll be able to find out if it’s a boy or a girl—but I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Why not?”
I sighed. “I am a little bit curious. But mostly, I’m just scared.”
“Scared? What are you scared about?”
I knew it would probably sound silly. Most mothers can’t wait to find out if they’re having a boy or a girl, if only because it helped them plan things like nursery colors, clothing, potential names, and all that.
“I feel like …” How to explain what I was feeling? “Like it will just give me a whole new list of things to worry about.”
Jenna tilted her head. “What do you mean? What are you worried about?”
“Well, like—if it’s a girl, what if we don’t get along? What if she’s a girly-girl who’s really into fashion? You know me. I tend to be more … understated. And if it’s a boy, well, what the hell do I know about raising a boy?” I knew it didn’t sound logical. But feelings rarely were. “What about you?” I asked. “Do you think you’ll want to find out if you’re having a boy or a girl? You only have a few more weeks to go before your twenty-week ultrasound, right?”
Jenna bit her lip. “I’m not sure either. I used to think I couldn’t wait to know, but now … I don’t know. The father and I aren’t really talking. Maybe I’d feel differently if it was something he and I were going to find out together.”
I could see the sadness behind her eyes. “I can understand that. I mean, yes, I have Max to tell, but then I also have Madison hovering in the background, judging me, and trying to take over.” I puffed out my cheeks, then exhaled.
I’d shown her Madison’s post on social media about “Baby Hunter” and she’d been just as disturbed as I was.
“Yeah, she’s really going overboard,” said Jenna. “Especially if it makes her get crazier, I don’t blame you for not wanting to find out.”
“I’m kind of glad they told me I can only have one other person in the room with me. I’ve decided I’m going to invite my mom and avoid Max and Madison completely. I might have considered inviting Max at one point, but I don’t need his girlfriend throwing a fit and accusing me of trying to get him alone again.”
“That sounds like a good call,” Jenna said. “Hey, want another Paloma-Rita?”
I smiled. “Sure.” I watched her as she fetched two more cans from her fridge and poured them into our glasses. I felt a little pang of jealousy at how good she still looked, in tight leggings and a T-shirt. “Look at you, Jenna!” I said when she came back with our drinks. “Gosh, you look so good. You’re barely showing at all. Meanwhile, look at me—I’m so puffy and swollen, everywhere.”
Jenna waved a hand. “Stop. You look great. Your skin and hair are glowing. You look exactly like what a twenty-weeks pregnant woman should.”
I smiled as we sipped our responsible drinks. “Aw, thank you, Jenna. And thank you for being here for me and listening to all my whining. You know—I’m really glad I met you.”
Jenna looked down at the ground with a small smile. “Me too, Savannah.”
When I called Max that night to tell him about the appointment, he answered with a distinct edge to his voice.
“Hello, Savannah.”
He probably thought I was calling to complain about Madison some more—which would have been fully within my rights.
“I’m just calling to let you know I scheduled my twenty-week ultrasound. Unfortunately, they said I’m only allowed one person in the room with me. So I asked my mother to come along.” He was silent at first, so I added, “But they do give me a DVD of the ultrasound, so you can see it after the fact.”
When he still didn’t say anything, I said gently, “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed.”
He sighed in a quick whoosh. “They really said that? Only one guest?”
“Yes, they did. It’s not even with the doctor—it’s just a sonographer.”
