Monty is already moving, too, sliding into place like a protective instinct given a body.
And there it is again—that terrifying, tender thing.
They don’t ask if they can come.
They just do it and what am I supposed to do with that?
My stomach flips.
I nod, because my head is trying to be polite, but my body doesn’t get the memo.My fingers twitch against my thighs as I force myself to stand, pretending my legs aren’t turning into jelly, pretending I’m not suddenly convinced the room is a thousand degrees hotter than it was five seconds ago.
Cally and Monty move beside me like it’s nothing.
Like this is a normal Tuesday.
Like they’ve done this a hundred times.
They don’t grab me.They just ...match my pace.Close enough that I can feel them there, not so close that I feel trapped.
It should annoy me.
It doesn’t.
“This is your first?”the nurse asks, glancing back at me as she leads us down the corridor.
I nod, gripping the gum like it’s a lifeline.“Yeah.”
Her eyes soften.“You’ll be fine.Jane, our technician, is wonderful.She’ll talk you through everything.”She pauses and looks at Cally and Monty, clearly recalculating her script.“And your ...”
I open my mouth.“Oh, they’re not?—”
Cally cuts in before I can finish, “We’re staying.”
The nurse smiles like that’s completely normal.Like men routinely show up to transvaginal ultrasounds and nobody ever blinks.“Great.Right this way.”
The exam room is small but bright.A sonogram machine hums quietly in the corner.An exam table sits in the middle covered in crisp white paper, and the blue walls are clearly meant to calm people down.
They are failing.
I stare at the machine like it might grow teeth.
The nurse gestures to a counter.“You can leave your things there.”
I nod and do it on autopilot—my purse, my sweater, my dignity, my will to live.All of it.
Then she pulls a folded sheet of crinkly paper from a drawer and places it on the exam table with a practiced calm that feels suspiciously cheery.
As soon as she’s gone, I let out a long exhale and press my palms to my face.“I hate this.”
“You haven’t even done anything yet,” Cally says, far too casual for a man about to witness a medical procedure that involves my vagina.
I drop my hands and glare at him.“I’m about to strip in a doctor’s office so they can poke around inside me with a—” I gesture vaguely because I can’t believe I’m saying this aloud.“A wand.”
His lips twitch.“It’s an ultrasound probe.Not a wand.”
“Callaway,” Monty says, voice low and warning, like he’s two seconds away from dragging Cally into a corner and teaching him the meaning of timing.“She’s already stressed.Stop.”
“I’m trying to help,” Cally mutters.
