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I blew out a breath and looked in the mirror.
Suddenly my eyes began to tear, and I realized that I looked like a bride. I was really going to marry the man of my dreams and this was happening.
The bridal shop assistant walked in with her manager and they froze by the door.
“Is this your dress?” the older woman asked.
I nodded, emotion clogging my throat. This was the dress.
**
LATER THAT DAY, I WASstill riding that high when I met Mark at Dr. Roberts for the ultrasound.
“Is that the baby?” Mark asked, squinting at the black and white screen.
Dr. Roberts chuckled. “That’s Sutton’s bladder.”
He moved the ultrasound wand lower and suddenly a very defined shape of a baby appeared.
Mark’s hands started to shake. He grabbed my hand and I saw the way he was staring at the monitor.
“This is your baby.” Dr. Roberts pointed to the screen. “Here we see a nice strong heartbeat and straight spine. And look, the little thumb is in the baby’s mouth.”
“It’s incredible,” Mark breathed, never once looking away from our child.
For the next twenty minutes, Dr. Roberts went over every aspect of the baby and answered a whole host of questions that Mark had for him.
“Do you want to know the gender of your baby?”
Mark looked at me with hope and anticipation in his eyes.
I nodded. “Yes, please.”
Dr. Roberts moved the wand around a bit more and then pointed to the screen. “Congratulations, you are having a boy!”
A boy. The tiny alien thing that had been making me deathly ill for weeks was a boy. I felt a surge of love and protectiveness wash over me that I can only describe as life changing.
Mark’s eyes were glassy as he thanked the doctor for the twentieth time, and we readied ourselves to leave. In a lot of ways, we were walking on cloud nine.
**
“WHAT ARE WE GOING TOname this baby, Mrs. Williams?” Mark asked as he leaned over and kissed my cheek.
The driver had picked us up and we were heading back to the apartment. Over the past few weeks, we had spent a great deal of time looking at places to live. While Mark’s apartment was a spacious two bedroom, we really felt like it would be cramped when the baby arrived.
Settling on a cute brownstone in Prospect Heights that needed minimal renovations, we purchased the home and construction was already underway.
“I suppose we can pick out colors for the nursery now,” I mused.
“What were you thinking?” Mark traced my lips with his fingertips.
“Neutral tones, creams, and grays.” I kissed his roving finger and he smiled.
My heart melted. He was just so damn handsome.
“Did you have a name picked out, Mr. Williams?” I asked, returning to his previous question.
Mark nodded. “I don’t want to pressure the kid, but what do you think of Hollingsworth IV? It would be nice to have another Hollingsworth at the helm of Sutton Enterprises someday.”