“You’re right.” I finally tear my eyes away from the screen. “Do I get to take home the photos.”
She smiles widely at me as she slowly brings the wand out. “I’ll do even better and upload the video and photos to the medical app. You can share it with…”
I hold my hand up. “The father? Yeah, that’s taking a little time to process in my head, how to tell him.”
“That’s up to you.”
“Yep.” I pop the P, well aware that I can’t rely on the excuse that I was waiting to confirm with the doctor anymore.
* * *
I pace my living room,while I struggle to hit send with my thumb. Instead, I type a text then delete and do this on repeat.
Hey, long time. Is it okay if I call you?
Obvious, Isla, obvious.
Hey, Vaugh, it’s been a while. Nice goal last night.
Perhaps a good opening.
We need to talk.
Again, horrible.
Hope you’re doing well. I know we said we would leave the hurricane night as a one-night thing. But we kind of have a situation…
That will just make him freak out.
Photo of ultrasound.SURPRISE.
That will just give him a heart attack.
“Just call him,” I scold myself. In person is better, but there is no way that can logistically happen in the next few days.
My phone rings, and I see it’s my brother calling. Briggs is in St. Louis for a game tomorrow. Guilt hits me because I feel like I might disappoint him. He’s my older brother, but at times we’re inseparable, and he supports me in so many ways. I don’t want to let him down, and I know a surprise pregnancy isn’t on his list of wants for his sister. And he will for sure kill Vaughn. Still, I answer.
“Hey, Sis, how is your cold going?” It sounds like he’s walking.
“Fine. Ready for your game?”
I’m not telling anyone until I inform Vaughn. It’s the right thing to do.
“For sure. The Spinners are playing somewhat better than last year.” He’s not afraid to be cocky.
“I know. It’s a marketing gold mine. Thanks for that.” Maybe he can hear my smile.
“Someone mentioned that you weren’t at work today. Everything good?”
“Spying on me? Damn it, why does my brother have to practice at my place of work.”
He growls in frustration. “How about you just answer me.”
“How about you tell me how your ‘operation win over your masseuse’ is going?” I counter.
He’s ridiculously hung up on his masseuse who doesn’t want to give him the time of day. But now he is going full swing trying to win her over. I had to take extra photos of him in his hockey uniform holding a puppy with a Santa hat.
“I’m going to get that date. Just you watch. Now, work?”
