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Joan pointed to a white ring in the middle of the black. “This is the gestational sac. We should see the developing embryo, but it’s missing. We call it a blighted ovum. Sometimes the embryo passed very early. Other times it never developed at all.” Her expression softened. “These are so much more common than people realize. Up to twenty percent of all first pregnancies end in miscarriage, and the number is probably even higher because we don’t always know about these very early ones.”

Chloe gazed at the screen.

“There is absolutely no reason to think you won’t go on to have a successful pregnancy.”

“I…” Chloe trailed off.

I put my hand over the one Lachlan already held, my fingers around both of theirs. “What should we do now?” I asked Joan.

“Right,” she said, her brisk tone returning. “There are two options, really.” She looked at Chloe. “You can wait for the miscarriage to progress on its own, or I can send you home with medication to move things along. You’ll likely have some cramping, and then it will be like a heavier than normal menstrual cycle.”

“Medication,” Chloe said. “I don’t want to wait.”

Joan nodded. “Just give me a minute to get the prescription. We can fill it here, and you’ll be on your way. Once you’re home, get rest and plenty of fluids.”

“We’ll take good care of her,” Lachlan said.

Chloe squeezed our hands.

Joan bustled about for a minute, then pushed the ultrasound machine to the door. Just before she left, she turned, her gaze falling on Chloe. “I’m sorry for how things turned out, Miss Drexel.” She hesitated, then added, “This probably sounds terribly unprofessional, but the women in my family have a knack for…knowing things. I can’t explain it, but I just know you’ll have a son. I feel it very strongly.”

My heart pounded. Beside me, Lachlan went completely still.

“Um. Anyway, I thought it might help to pass that along.” She gave a short nod and left.

By some unspoken agreement, the three of us waited until the sound of the machine’s squeaky wheels faded, then Chloe turned to us. “Are psychics a thing?”

Lachlan answered. “Yes, though the gift is unpredictable.” He cast a thoughtful look toward the door. “I’d wager she’s the real deal, though. That sort of thing does tend to run in families.”

I brushed a loose curl off Chloe’s shoulder. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She was quiet a moment. “I think so. That was a roller coaster.” She grimaced. “Honestly, I just want to get out of this gown and go home.”

“We can make that happen,” I said. “We’ll tuck you in bed and be at your beck and call. You can order us around like servants.”

Her smile put color back in her cheeks, which made sweet relief wash through me. “Two handsome Scotsmen to do whatever I say? I’ll take it.”

Chapter Sixteen

CHLOE

The guys made good on their promise to take care of me. As soon as we returned to the penthouse, they tucked me in bed in the master suite and saw to my every comfort. Alec brought me bowls of homemade chicken noodle soup (with a side of meeracle toast), and Lachlan brushed the tangles from my hair and arranged the heavy mass in a French braid.

I’d touched the plait in surprise. “You know how to braid?”

“Of course I do. Medieval warriors were vain about their hair, lass.”

“Aye, like in Braveheart,” Alec said cheerily as he carried a laundry basket from the bathroom.

Lachlan glowered at him. “Watch your language. There’s a lady present.”

“It’s Lach’s favorite movie,” Alec said as he left the room.

“It fucking is not,” Lachlan called after him. He’d turned back to me with a scowl. “He gets me a DVD of the damn thing every year for my birthday.”

I’d grinned at their antics—and all the other ways they teased each other. They kept me laughing, sometimes until tears rolled down my face.

And when the tears shifted unexpectedly from humorous to the real thing, they’d held me as I wept, the three of us spooning in the oversize bed.