“Fine. Let’s prove your lab screwed up.”
Twenty minutes later, I was lying on my back with my feet in stirrups and a wand where no wand had any business being at ten in the morning. This wasn’t my first rodeo with stirrups, but I felt exposed.
“See?” I kept my tone light. “Nothing there.”
“Deanna.” He turned the screen toward me. “I need you to look.”
I looked.
The image was grainy, black and white, and impossible to make sense of. Just shadows and shapes that could’ve been anything…
Then I saw it. A flicker. Fast and rhythmic.
“That’s a heartbeat,” Dr. Bedi said. He kept moving the wand around, and I tried not to think about how uncomfortable the whole thing was. “And that’s another one.”
“Another what?”
“Heartbeat.” He pointed to a second flickering shape, distinct from the first. “You’re carrying twins, Deanna.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only stare at those two flickering heartbeats that had no business being there.
“No,” I whispered. “That’s not... it can’t...”
“Based on the measurements and the hCG levels, I’d estimate you’re about ten weeks along.” He continued to take measurements. “That would put conception around late summer.”
Late summer.
Greece.
Five months ago, I’d followed my twenty-two-year-old daughter to Greece under the guise of protecting her. What I’d found instead were passionate nights with a man whose touch made me forget why I’d come in the first place.
Looking back, I should have stayed home. Should have listened to my ex-mother-in-law, Mama Nettie, and my best friend, Kandi, when they told me to let her be an adult. But the thought of Tia being alone in a foreign country for months had me imagining all the worst-case scenarios possible.
“Check again.” I shook my head against the examination table. “That can’t be right.”
“I’m looking at two separate gestational sacs, two yolk sacs, and two distinct fetal heartbeats.” Dr. Bedi sounded patient, as if he’d had this conversation before. “You’re definitely pregnant with twins.”
“I had my tubes tied fifteen years ago. Your wife did the surgery.” My voice was getting louder. I didn’t care. “This doesn’t happen.”
“It’s rare, but it happens. The fallopian tubes can reconnect spontaneously. And when they do, fertility can be enhanced for a period, which might explain why you conceived multiples.”
“Two babies?” I whispered.
Twins by a man whose son was engaged to my daughter. And yes, her fiancé, Santo, was sleeping in the downstairs guest room instead of with her, because that’s how things worked under my roof when you weren’t married. The fact that I had no moral high ground whatsoever to stand on while enforcing that rule was beside the point.
“Yes.” He removed the wand and handed me tissues. “You can get dressed. Take your time. When you’re ready, we’ll discuss your options.”
Options. I didn’t like that word, but there was no playbook for this. No guidebook for how to handle being pregnant with your daughter’s future father-in-law’s babies.
Mama Nettie would listen. Before I was her daughter-in-law, I was her foster kid. Showed up at her door at sixteen with too much attitude and not enough trust. She kept me anyway. That woman loved me. I knew it the way I knew gravity worked.
But I needed to sit with this news before I said it out loud to anyone.
Dr. Bedi left, and I stayed on the table, staring at the blank ultrasound screen. How was I going to tell Tia? How was I going to look Santo in the face, knowing I was carrying his half-siblings? How was I going to keep building my business while dealing with morning sickness and baby stuff and...
My phone buzzed. Three missed calls from Chauncey Jones, my creative director and the guy who’d been with me since I started my marketing agency six years ago. If Chauncey was calling three times before lunch, something needed my attention immediately.
I looked at his text.
