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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

John

The glow of the screen is the only thing lighting the doctor’s office, apart from the under-counter lighting. My palms sweat as the doctor squeezes jelly on Becca’s stomach, causing her to shudder.

“Are you ready to see your baby for the first time?” she asks, knowing it’s our first time having a baby and hopefully not the last.

Becca nods aggressively, while I pump her hand, smiling.

The doctor moves the wand over Becca’s still flat, toned belly. At first, it looks like blurry static on an old analog television, but suddenly, the black and white blobs make a whooshing sound.

“Do you see your baby?”

Becca and I glance at each other, and I shrug. “All I see is gray. I hear it moving.

She points out the amniotic fluid surrounding, acting as a cushion for our baby. Then I see what she’s pointing out—a kidney-bean-shaped baby. Honestly, if she didn’t show us, I wouldn’t have known until I see the flicker of life and hear the fast thumping of our baby’s heartbeat.

“That’s our baby?” I ask, my heart racing nearly as fast ourbaby’s. I clutch Becca’s hand, but she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she stares at the screen, with tears in her eyes.

“Our baby,” she mumbles, tightening her grip on my fingers, then finally we share a moment when the doctor turns to print out the images. “It’s amazing. We created a life… a baby.”

Cupping her hand with both hands, I bring them to my mouth, pressing a kiss on her smooth skin.

“We did.”

“When can we find out if it’s a boy or girl?” Becca asks.

“After eighteen weeks by ultrasound or now by blood test. Do you want to know?”

Becca says, “Yes.”

And at the same time, I say, “No.” Our heads snap in the other’s direction.

The doctor chuckles. “Don’t worry. I would say at least half of all couples differ on that one. Why don’t you all discuss it and let me know at the next appointment?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You can get dressed and check out at the first window. I can see that this baby is well loved.”

Becca grins at me. “Yes, he is.”

When Dr. Sasha leaves, I ask, “He?”

“I know the baby is a boy.”

With a twerked brow, I ask, “And how is that, my bride-to-be?”

She nudges my arm with a teasing smile. “Because only a boy would have me this queasy every morning—he’s already trying his best to make me late and throw me off my game.”

A slow rolling chuckle finds its way from my lips. “Looks like I’ve got a little competition for the most annoying guy in your life. But I love a good competition.”

Becca’s hands fly over her face when we walk into Gertie’s, and everyone yells surprise. She hasn’t mentioned her birthday once today, and I specifically asked her friends and family not to call or text, wanting to throw her a surprise party.

Our friends and family yell, “Happy Birthday.”

She spots her parents and runs straight for them. “I thought you forgot.”

Her dad squeezes her so hard, I almost step in to protect the baby. Then I realize I’m being irrational. It wouldn’t be the first time. Mrs. Shearer says, “Oh baby. I could never forget my baby’s birthday, especially yours, princess. Four sixteen in the morning is unforgettable. John, thanks for putting this together. We’re so happy that you and Becca found each other as more than friends.”