Page 94 of Deceptive Desires (The Syndicate #2)

Cecilia

“Make a left here!” I instruct, and Roman listens, turning the car into a lot.

“Sunshine, I know where your doctor’s office is,” he teases.

I laugh, knowing he tracks me every time I leave the house. I don’t mind. In fact, I prefer it. I feel safer this way. So, yes he tracks me, but it’s with my permission. Well, that’s only when he doesn’t come with me.

He thinks we’re here for an IUD, and that I’ll need a driver afterwards.

But he doesn’t know the surprise I have for him.

He holds my hand the entire way through the building, then I check in at the counter.

We sit in the waiting room, and I have to hide my grin at his solemn face.

I know he wants a baby as much as I do, and I hate lying to him, but I wanted it to be a surprise.

I also didn’t want to tell him until I knew for sure.

“Cecilia Montclair!” a medical assistant calls from the doorway.

We make our way in, and I step on the scale. I note the few pounds I’ve already gained, but Roman smartly doesn’t comment on it.

We go through the regular questions. Roman pays close attention the entire time.

“When was your last period?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” I try to hide the glee in my voice.

“Is there any chance you’re pregnant?” she asks, then glances at Roman and winks at me, obviously realizing with Roman as my husband, there’s a big chance I’m pregnant.

“Yes,” I tell her.

Roman sucks in a breath, and his knee starts bouncing anxiously.

She hands me a cup to pee in. I head to the bathroom and do my business. I give it to her, and she leaves.

As soon as she’s out the door, Roman’s on me.

“Cecilia, is there really a chance you’re pregnant?” he asks, and I can hear the hope in his voice.

I reach into my purse and pull out a zip-block. Sitting inside are two pregnancy tests.

“There’s more than a chance,” I tell him as I hand him the bag.

He inspects them, and I can tell the moment he registers what the two pink lines on each one means.

Pregnant.

He lifts me in his arms and twirls me around. Then drops me immediately, with a look of concern.

“Wait, shit! Did I hurt you? I don’t want to give the baby vertigo!” he freaks out, then bends down to look at my stomach.

I’m barely showing, but he still stares at the slight bump in awe.

“Is this really our baby?” he asks full of disbelief and hope.

“I think so. That’s what we’re here to find out,” I tell him as I grip his hand.

He kisses and hugs me, then picks me up and places me on the table so gently. He frets, making sure I’m comfortable. That I’m not too hot or too cold.

And I realize this is going to be a long pregnancy.

Roman’s already protective of me, to an insane extent. Now that I’m carrying our child… I wouldn’t be surprised if he locks me in a bubble-wrapped room.

Dr. Lane finally walks in with a bright smile and gives me a hug.

“Great news! You’re pregnant!” She gives us a moment to process it.

Even though the tests came back positive, I needed confirmation from her. Tears well in my eyes, and when I glance at Roman, some have already fallen down his cheeks.

“Sunshine, we’re going to have a baby,” he says softly.

“This is our dream,” I say through tears.

“Do you want a scan done to see your baby?” she asks.

“Yes!” Roman says, instantly.

“We can also run a non-invasive prenatal testing to see the sex, if you’d like. It’s a blood test,” she offers.

Roman looks at me in question this time.

“Is there no other way to tell the sex?” he asks.

“Not this early. At eighteen weeks, we can tell with the anatomy scan,” Dr. Lane explains.

“If you don’t want to have your blood drawn, I understand,” he says disappointedly.

“Roman, a little needle isn’t going to stop us from finding out the sex of our baby.” I’m shocked he would ever think that.

The ultrasound tech comes in and starts setting up.

I lay down and roll up my shirt. Roman stands next to me and holds my hand.

“This is going to be cold,” she warns, but I don’t care.

She pours the gel on and starts moving the wand on me.

Then, we hear it. A drumming. And tears stream down my face.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat!” she says excitedly.

“It’s too fast! Why is it so fast?” Roman asks, his hand squeezing mine nervously.

“Fetuses and infants have faster heartbeats than adults. Your baby is perfectly normal.” She shoots us a patient smile.

Roman exhales and looks to the ceiling.

I’m watching him when the ultrasound tech gasps.

“Would you look at that!” she says, excitedly, pointing at the screen.

I stare in amazement.

“Is that…?” I ask, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes!” She smiles at me in excitement.

“What? What is it?” Roman asks, confused and worried.

“That’s Baby B,” she responds.

“I don’t understand.” He’s somehow still confused.

“The first was Baby A. This is Baby B. We’re having twins!” I say, both nervous and thrilled.

I don’t know how to feel about twins. Two babies is a lot.

I spare a glance at Roman, and he’s smiling widely.

“This is perfect!” He leans down and kisses me.

“Twins,” I say with a sigh.

“Erm, actually…” the tech says nervously. “Meet Baby C.”

Silence, except Baby C’s heartbeat, falls through the room.

“Are you saying there are three babies in my wife?” Roman demands answers.

“It would appear so.” She swallows, looking nervous.

Roman pales as his eyes shoot to mine.

“Triplets,” he whispers. Then he cups my cheek. “Are you okay, sunshine?”

“Yeah, it’s just… a lot.”

“It is, but it’s our a lot.”

He’s so supportive that tears well again.

“We’re having three babies,” I repeat.

“Yeah. Three of us running around,” he says.

Then he pauses.

“Three little ones. We need to make changes! We need to baby-proof the house. We need to move into the house! I need to buy bullet-proof minivans. We need to get you your license. No, we’re going to get a driver.

Oh my God! How are we going to take care of more babies than there are us?

How are you even going to feed them? You only have two boobs!

” he starts pacing, looking more anxious by the second.

“Héroe, it’s going to be fine. We’ll do this together. And your family and mine will help for sure. It’s going to be okay,” I calm him.

Once he’s settled down, we continue with the ultrasounds. Then we get the labs done, and they tell us they’ll have the results uploaded in seven to fourteen days.

***

My phone chirps with an email.

My phone chirps with the email.

“Roman,” I call him from the kitchen room.

He comes running into the living room so quickly, he skids across the floor.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he freaks out, as he’s done every day for the past week. I fear he’s not going to get any better throughout the pregnancy. I wonder if he’ll be even worse once the babies are here, if that’s even possible.

“We got the email,” I tell him.

“Okay. I’m ready. Are you?” He takes a deep breath.

“Of course! Remember, it will only tell us if there’s at least one Y chromosome or none. We won’t know the individual sexes,” I remind him.

We still wanted to do it, even if the only answer is there’s at least one boy.

He sits next to me and holds my hand.

We pull up the link and sit through the longest video of my life. Until finally, the results.

‘You’re having a girl!’ pops up on the screen.

“So, we’re having at least one girl?” Roman asks, even though I can tell understanding is dawning on him.

“Héroe, I think it means all three are girls. There’s no Y chromosome detected,” I tell him with a smile.

Having only sisters, I’m used to girls. I’m excited that they’re girls. I would’ve loved them just as much as sons, but daughters are easier.

Roman slowly looks at me, then looks down at my belly, then back at me.

“Girls?” he breathes out. “All daughters?”

“Yes, héroe. We’re having three daughters,” I explain slowly.

“I need air. No, I need water. Wait, it doesn’t matter what I need!

What do you need? What do our daughters need?

Oh my God, three daughters! Three little girls to keep safe.

In this dangerous world.” He’s pacing as his hands run through his buzzed hair.

“Cecilia, I think we need to move somewhere remote. Somewhere without evil boys. I don’t trust anyone with my girls.

Maybe I can buy an island or something. You like the beach, right? ”

I stand up ready to calm him, but he’s on me in an instant, helping me back onto the couch.

“You’re growing our daughters right now. Whatever you need, I can get you,” he insists. There’s a tremor in his voice, and his hands are shaking.

“I just need you to be okay. We can’t move to an island. Our families need us, and we’ll certainly need them,” I remind him.

“Okay. But can we at least home school them? They’re never allowed to talk to boys,” he decides.

“No, héroe. Our daughters will be educated by people who know how to teach. Plus, they’ll have to talk to boys.

They’re going to live normal lives. And you’re going to let them.

And one day, they’ll go on dates and have boyfriends,” I tell him, needing him to accept this in the next decade before it happens.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he says, looking rather green.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be such a great girl-dad,” I reassure him.

“Oh my God. What are we going to do?” he mumbles, then pulls me into his chest.

“We’ll figure it out together. We’ll love our daughters and give them great lives. It’s going to be magical,” I soothe him.

“Okay. I believe you. As long as we have each other, we’re going to be okay,” he says. But I think he’s trying to convince himself.

I lean into him, and he hugs me.

And all is right in our world.