Page 93

"Holy shit," I whisper, then immediately flush. "Sorry, I mean?—"

Dr. Thompson laughs. "Trust me, I've heard it all." She points to the screen again. "Let's check their measurements, make sure everything's developing on schedule."

She clicks buttons, freezing images, taking measurements of heads and limbs and organs that I can barely distinguish. But Tess seems to understand, nodding as Dr. Thompson explains what she's looking at.

"They both look excellent," Dr. Thompson says finally. "Perfect growth for fourteen weeks. All organs developing normally."

Relief floods through me, a tension I hadn't even recognized draining from my shoulders.

"Oh, look at that," Dr. Thompson says, moving the wand again. "Baby B is in a perfect position right now. If you're interested, I can tell you the sex."

Tess and I exchange startled glances.

"Already?" Tess asks. "I thought it was too early."

"It can be, but sometimes when they're in just the right position like this one is, we can see quite clearly. It's up to you if you want to know."

I look at Tess, searching her face. "What do you think?"

Her eyes are bright with excitement. "I'd love to know, if it's possible. Would you?"

"Yes," I say, feeling a rush of excitement. "Absolutely."

Dr. Thompson smiles. "Let's take a look, then." She moves the wand, focusing on Baby B. "Ah, yes. See that?" She points to the screen. "Based on what I'm seeing, I'd say Baby B is a boy. And quite proud of it, from this angle."

A boy. My son. The words echo in my head. I picture a little boy with Tess's eyes and my smile, running around our feet, needing me to teach him things, to show him how to be a good man.

"And now let's see if Baby A will cooperate," Dr. Thompson continues, shifting the wand. "Sometimes one will show us and the other won't, so no guarantees—oh! Well, aren't we lucky today? Baby A is also in a great position." She studies the screen for a moment, then smiles. "And I'm seeing clear indicators that Baby A is a girl."

A daughter. A little girl with Tess's grace, maybe her musical talent. A daddy’s girl who will wrap me around her finger from the first moment I hold her.

"A boy and a girl," Tess breathes, her hand squeezing mine tightly. "Oh my God, Charlie."

A matched set. A son and a daughter. The perfect family in one pregnancy. My dad is absolutely going to love this.

"Of course," Dr. Thompson cautions, "ultrasound predictions aren't 100% accurate, especially this early. But based on what I'm seeing, I'm quite confident."

I barely hear her. I'm lost in the images on the screen, in the reality that's suddenly crystallized before me.

"I'm printing some images for you to take home," Dr. Thompson says, tapping buttons on the machine. The whooshing heartbeats still fill the room, a soundtrack to this moment I know I'll never forget.

"Thank you," I manage, my voice rougher than I expected.

Dr. Thompson hands Tess some tissues to wipe the gel from her stomach, then stands. "I'll give you two a moment. Take your time. The nurse will have your photos at the front desk when you're ready."

When she leaves, closing the door softly behind her, I turn to Tess. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, her smile so wide it looks like it hurts.

"A boy and a girl," I say again, testing the words, feeling their weight.

"Perfect, right?" she whispers.

I nod, unable to speak past the tightness in my throat. Instead, I lean forward and press my lips to hers, trying to pour everything I'm feeling into the kiss. Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, her thumb wiping away moisture I hadn't even realized was there.

"You're crying," she says softly when we part.

"I’m not crying, you’re crying," I counter, reaching up to brush a tear from the corner of her eye.

She laughs, the sound bright and clear in the quiet room. "We're a mess."