Page 11

It’s the nights that concern me the most. Will we be able to sneak away and accomplish Asher’s ‘under the stars’ wish?
I find myself fantasizing about all the things we’ll do if we get the chance. He’s texted me a few times since our last meet-up. Mostly to tell me how much he’s been enjoying the videos. I have to admit, I’ve watched them a time or ten myself.
Mia Cruz, my best friend, once forced me to watch a porn movie when we were teens. I found it mostly funny. And at times, a bit scary. The cocks on the guys in those movies are massive, and they put them in places I thought they definitely shouldn’t be putting them.
I silently chuckle. Because Asher and I have most definitely been testing the limits of sexuality. And even though he’s older and a lot more experienced, it’s felt like somehow, we’d both been waiting for that person who was so sexually compatible, it made all those things way more fun and not the least bit embarrassing.
Mitchell makes a noise, shifting in my arms. I avert my gaze from the stingray to my eleven-week-old nephew and sigh. Every time I look at him, touch him, hold him, memories from my past bombard me. But no matter how painful those memories are, they can’t keep me from this amazing, tiny, perfect human. I gladly babysit whenever needed. And this week, it’s been needed a lot.
While my mom has been tasked with keeping Maisy and Charlie occupied, mostly by following them around at the beach as they add to their growing collections of shells and sharks’ teeth, my job has been Mitchell. And I do it willingly. Even as it sends shards of white-hot pain right into the center of my heart.
“Are you hungry, little guy?”
He confirms my suspicion when he arches his back and lets out a ravenous wail.
I laugh. “Okay, okay. Lunch is coming.”
After fetching Mitchell’s bottle of breast milk, I settle back outside, once again enjoying the view as I feed him. When he’s finished, I watch his little eyes flutter open and closed. He’s milk-drunk and sleepy. I hold him in one hand and pull the bassinet out onto the lanai with my other. There’s surely no better place to get a nap than here.
Gently settling him down, I lie on the outdoor couch next to him, watching him through the white mesh side of the cradle as his little mouth puckers and his hands twitch as he falls into a deep sleep. I find the sight of him mesmerizing as my own eyelids grow heavy.
He’s cute. He’s amazing. He’s perfect in every way.
“Miss Montana. Mr. Platt,” the doctor says, looking anything but joyful. She gestures to the two chairs opposite her desk. “Please sit. I have some concerning results to go over with you.”
Jason and I share a look. I shrug. What could be concerning? My heart thunders. Maybe we’re having twins. Oh my gosh, how fun would that be? Mom would probably kill me, though. She’s going to kill me as it is. Just as soon as we tell her I’m having a baby at nineteen.
Knowing how people are in Calloway Creek, Jason and I decided to keep this a secret until we get married—which will happen exactly three weeks from today. We could have done it sooner, which would have made it so much easier. Because at twelve weeks, I’m going to start showing soon, and I still have to hide it for three more.
But Jason insisted we get married on June twenty-eighth. It was his parents’ wedding anniversary. They died when he was fifteen. Killed by a drunk driver. It’s his way of honoring them.
My high school sweetheart, Jason and I started dating at sixteen. He lives with his aunt, who basically has no rules, so it’s been easy for him to sneak around. And I live at my parents’ house—Montana Manor—over one of the banks of garages with a separate outdoor entrance. It’s every hormonal teenager’s dream setup. My parents have never suspected thatJason sleeps over pretty much every weekend since we started having sex two and half years ago.
My best friend, Mia, is the only person who knows about our present situation, and she’s been sworn to secrecy. Being a twin herself, she would totally flip out if I had twins. I know she’ll be a huge help. She’s even insisting on being called Aunt Mia.
Dr. Miller shuffles a few papers around. I like the way she never judged us from the start. We picked her from a google search. We needed a doctor outside of Calloway Creek. No way were we going to someone local. Despite those laws that are supposed to keep medical information private, everyone knows everyone else’s business in our small town. So we’ve been coming to the city that’s just a short train ride away.
When it seems like the doctor has been hesitating far too long, I ask, “Are we having twins?”
She shakes her head. “No, not twins.”
Jason sits up straighter. “Triplets?” he squeaks out.
“No,” she says. “What I have to tell you is going to be difficult to hear. The blood work we did last week revealed your baby likely has a genetic disorder that occurs when a person has three copies of chromosome eighteen instead of two.”
“Wait, no,” Jason says, clearly upset. “Are you saying our kid has Down’s Syndrome?”
“Babies with Down’s have three copies of chromosome twenty-one,” she explains. “Your baby is showing markers for what is called Trisomy 18, or Edwards syndrome.”
I swallow hard, feeling like the ceiling is about to come crashing down. “What exactly does that mean?”
“First off, I’d like to schedule you for an amniocentesis in three weeks, that will give us confirmation.”
A relieved sigh bellows out of me. “Oh, good. So you aren’t sure.”
“Allie.” She looks at me with sympathetic eyes. “The blood tests are very accurate. They measure free fragments of fetal DNA in the bloodstream. The detection rate of the NIPT blood test showing Trisomy 18 is around ninety-seven percent. That means, in all likelihood, your baby does have it. We just do the amnio to be one hundred percent sure.”
Jason reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Okay, so assume the baby has it. What does that mean? Will he or she have issues like a Down’s Syndrome baby?”