“Oh, no.” Dr. Gupta laughed. “Our own Dr. Biernacki is expecting. He left on paternity leave last month, but we got an earful every day up until then. Never mind that he, mostly, got to sit and observe while the rest of us did the heavy lifting.” Dr. Gupta looked at him, then looked at the screen. “Looks like we’re in business. I’m seeing two healthy babies. Considering that it’s your first pregnancyandyou’re having multiples, I’m impressed. We’re looking very good.”
Mal spun his ring with his thumb, his eyes on the screen. This late into the pregnancy, the twins resembled fully developed babies instead of the humanoid blobs they’d been before. Hands. Fingers. Legs… Mal smiled. “They’re okay?”
“They’re great. Itislooking a little crowded in there. With multiples, sometimes you’ll deliver a little prematurely. That’s okay. Your twins are head down, which means they’re getting ready to be born. If you haven’t already, I’d suggest you pack your overnight bag and make sure you have transport to your birthing center organized. Right now I’m not seeing any signs that you’re about to go into active labor, but that could change soon enough. At thirty-seven weeks, the birth will be premature, but not disastrously so. You’re well out of the danger zone. These babies should make their debut as healthy as could be.”
“That’s a relief.” Mal closed his eyes and let his smile grow. It wasn’t news—Vincent had been telling him the same thing for the last few weeks—but it was nice to have a second opinion. “So you’re not seeing anything abnormal in the ultrasound… but what about the blood samples? The other prenatal exams I’ve taken?”
“My, you’re sounding like a doctor.” Dr. Gupta laughed, and Mal’s heart seized with fear. Dr. Biernacki was gone, but had he left notes for the new SEAG supervisor? The new doctor—a stocky man Mal hadn’t been introduced to—surveyed silently from the corner of the room. His gray hair was kept short, and his expression was foreboding at best. Was it a requirement to be sullen to be a member of SEAG? From what Vincent had told Mal of his struggles with the group, perhaps… but Dr. Biernacki had seemed pleasant before Mal and Vincent’s behavior had flagged his suspicions.
And if what Dr. Gupta said was true, and hewason paternity leave, he had a right to have been cranky. The aches and pains of pregnancy were severe enough to turn even Mal’s mood sour, and he liked to think that he was a mild, even-tempered kind of guy.
“The short answer is: your tests look phenomenal. We’ve been monitoring you and the twins closely for signs of distress throughout this process, and nothing has alarmed us yet. In fact, you seem a little too normal. If you could kindly grow a second head or maybe a tail so I can keep my job, I’d appreciate it.” Dr. Gupta winked. She finished with the ultrasound and set the probe aside, then plucked a large sterile wipe from a dispenser and began to clear the gel from Mal’s belly. “I think people have the wrong idea about clinical testing a lot of the time—no medication iseverintroduced to human subjects unless substantial laboratory testing has already been done proving it’s safe. Which… well, it sounds kind of shady, doesn’t it? But for all we don’t know about the human body, and for all we can’t predict about each individual’s unique genetic makeup, there is alotwe can predict. Most of the time, the boys in the lab get it spot-on, and it looks like now is one of those times.”
The gel was cleaned away. Dr. Gupta disposed of the wipe.
“So, you go forth and have an easy labor for me, okay? Doctor’s orders.”
Mal’s cheeks grew hotter yet. “Will do.”
“And when the twins are born and you have one of those nice newborn photo shoots, send the clinic some pictures! Most of the time, I’m locked away in the lab working with our team toward solutions. It’s nice, from time to time, to see that my work has contributed something to the world.” Dr. Gupta stepped back from the table, making room for Mal to stand. “Are you sure you don’t want to know the sex of your children? Last chance.”
“No, thank you.” With difficulty, Mal lifted himself into a sitting position, then slowly climbed down from the table. “There’s a little girl with the sweetest face you’ve ever seen who will torture me with puppy dog eyes until I crack under the pressure and tell her if I’m having boys, girls, or both… and I don’t want to ruin the surprise for her.”
“A niece?” Dr. Gupta’s grin barely restrained a laugh. “She sounds sweet.”
“The sweetest,” Mal confirmed. “I love her like she’s my own.”
“It seems like you’re teasing her like she’s your own, too.” Dr. Gupta chuckled. “Well, let me be the first to offer my congratulations on your future delivery. It’s been a pleasure to monitor the growth of your twins.” She held out her hand, and Mal shook it. “Wishing you all the happiness in the world.”
If only he could tell Dr. Gupta that he didn’t need to be wished happiness—that since meeting Vincent, he’d found happiness in the most unimaginable ways. Instead, he thanked Dr. Gupta and returned her smile, then showed himself out of the examination room and left the clinic for the last time. The parting was bittersweet. Here, within sterile white walls, he’d reunited with the man who’d made him feel like he was worthwhile—like, despite his age, he was beautiful. Never again would he hear the sound of Vincent’s sole strike the tile while they flirted in subtle ways from across the room, and no more would he catch Vincent stealing a look his way when his teammates were distracted. The memories they had here would fade. Time would wipe away the excitement, the passion, and the desire… but it wouldn’t erase their family.
Mal had walked into the clinical trial with the intention of becoming pregnant—of welcoming a life into the world that he could love and care for, and that he could call his own. He hadn’t expected to walk out not only with twins, but with a fiancé who loved him, and a daughter whose love of life lit up his world.
No heart mended easily, and no mind could repair itself on the love of others alone, but Vincent and Nikki had done more than be a grounding force in Mal’s life—they’d taught him that it was okay to love himself for who he was, no matter what his story. With them at his side, holding him up, Mal had found the solution to his heartache that he’d been too afraid to look for—the one that had been inside of him all along.
He was worthwhile. He was wanted. He was whole.
And as he left the clinic—the place where it had all begun—he understood how much that meant.
How much it would always mean.
Memories would fade, and time would march on with or without him, but the future was coming, and with it would come brighter days, healing, and happiness like Mal had never known.
Mal turned the keys in the ignition, started the engine, and headed home to the most important people in his life, ready for those days to begin.
46
Vincent
Every Monday night without fail, Vincent closed and locked the bedroom door. The ritual was longstanding, a carryover from his time in Corvallis. With a towel draped over the side of the bed to spare the sheets, Vincent sat on the side of the bed in just his boxer-briefs and took a deep, calming breath. Beside him was a small, stainless steel medical tray. Milestone moments like these defined his week, and while Monday night’s routine wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, it grounded him in reality.
With care, Vincent disinfected his hands, then tore open a package containing a sterile wipe and disinfected a portion of his upper thigh. While he worked, his hands overly familiar with their tasks, his attention shifted to the introspective, as it always did. Monday nights were meant for meditation—finding his place in the universe while he primed his body to do the same. Week to week, his reflections varied. Over the last few years, he’d used this time to struggle with his feelings regarding his dysfunctional relationship with Melissa. These days, however, Vincent didn’t linger on the past—he looked toward the future.
And what a future it was shaping up to be.
A smile shaped Vincent’s face, a shy little thing that was nervous to make an appearance during such a sacred time. It had been a long while since Vincent had reason to smile on a Monday night, but going forward, he knew that would change.
Deftly, Vincent lifted the packaged syringe from the tray beside him. He tore the backing and peeled away the plastic, took hold of the prescription bottle containing his injectable medication, then uncapped the needle of the syringe and introduced the tip into the bottle. The oil-based serum was viscous and necessitated a thicker needle to draw it into the barrel. Even after years of employment as a physician, from time to time, its diameter made Vincent shiver. It was fortunate that the solution was injectable at a smaller gauge—a quick swap of the needle after the barrel was filled was all it took.
