"Adrian—please.” My shoulders slump. “I thought that we were trying to be honest.”
"I am." His jaw tightens, a sign of his irritation. "In this family, a son matters. He would be the heir. It's expected that we’d keep trying until we had a boy.” The idea of that does not appeal to me, but I remain quiet. But Sera?" He tilts my chin up, so I have to meet his eyes. "I don't care. Boy, girl—as long as they're healthy and you're safe, that's all I want."
I search his face for the lie. For the performance.
I don't find it.
"Okay," I whisper.
"Okay." He kisses my forehead. "Now get dressed. We're going to be late."
The doctor's office is in Midtown. It’s private and exclusive. The kind of place where celebrities and billionaires go when they don't want their medical information leaked.
Leo drives us, and two additional security cars follow. I feel like the President, and I try not to think about how much protection we had for a simple ultrasound.
Adrian and I haven’t talked about how things are going with Gabe. I’ve wanted to stay out of it, but I’ve noticed an uptick in the guard force around the house. It makes me wonder if there’s more threats out there, but I’m too scared to ask.
I’m just getting used to this life. I cannot add more to it.
"Have you thought about names?" I ask as we sit in traffic in an attempt to get my mind off of scarier things.
Adrian's hand tightens on mine. "Not yet. You?"
"A few. But I wanted to wait until we knew—" I stop. "It feels more real if we know."
"It's been real for me since the moment I saw the heartbeat," he says quietly.
I look at him, surprised by the admission.
"What?" he chuckles. “Did that moment not feel real to you?”
“Of course,” I say, swatting at him slightly. "I've just never heard you talk about the baby like that. Like you're—" I search for the word. "Attached."
"Of course I'm attached." He sounds almost offended. "This is my child. Our child. How could I not be?"
"I don't know. You've been so focused on everything else. Gabe. The business. Keeping me locked up for my own good." I don't mean for it to come out bitter, but it does.
His expression shutters. "I'm trying, Sera."
"I know." I squeeze his hand. "I'm not—I'm not attacking you. I'm just—" I stop. Start again. "Sometimes I can't tell what you're feeling. If you even want this baby or if it's just another piece of the empire you're building."
He's quiet for a long moment.
"I didn’t exactly have the best parental role models, Sera. I’m not sure how to do all of this.” He’s not looking at me. Instead, he’s looking out the window. "I want this baby." He turns to look at me, and there's something raw in his eyes. "I want this so much it terrifies me. Because wanting something makes you vulnerable. And I've spent my whole life trying not to be vulnerable."
I don't know what to say.
So I just hold his hand tighter.
The ultrasound tech is a woman in her forties with kind eyes and efficient hands. She's done this a thousand times. Knows exactly how to position me, where to put the gel, how to angle the wand.
The baby appears on the screen.
Bigger than last time. I can see the curve of the spine. The flutter of the heartbeat. Tiny hands and feet.
Tears spring to my eyes. This is real. I mean it always has been, but seeing the baby on the scream does something to solidify this for me.
"Everything looks good," the tech says. "Strong heartbeat. Good measurements. Right on track for twenty-weeks.”
