Page 53 of Full Out Fiend

Rather than answering, he uses one hand to pry my legs apart, making my eyes bug out of my head in the process.

“You’re nervous.”

“No shit,” I spit back.

He tries to hold it in, but he still has the audacity to laugh, just a little. “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you swear before, angel. Not in everyday conversation, at least. You usually save the colorful language for when I’m—”

“Fielding,” I scold through gritted teeth.

He bites down on his bottom lip and gives me a look that’s highly inappropriate for a doctor’s office.

“Okay. Let’s try and get this blood pressure under control. Keep your feet flat. Take in a deep breath, hold it in, blow it out, then do it again. Don’t talk.”

Once I’ve followed his instructions for several rounds, he peers back up at the nurse. “Let’s try again.”

Fielding stays crouched in front of me, his eyes never leaving mine as we both breathe in, hold it, and blow out in unison.

“Ah, 122/78.Muchbetter,” the nurse declares.

Of course the praise goes right to his head. “We got this,” Fielding whispers smugly before he winks, rises up, and helps me to my feet. “We’re already the perfect team.”

We’re led back to a large room with a flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. The nurse records a few more vitals, the date of my last menstrual cycle, and current medications, then instructs me to undress from the waist down before she leaves the room.

“Do you want me to step out?” Fielding asks before I can even process her directions.

“No, you’re fine. Just turn around so I can get situated.”

He doesn’t crack any jokes this time—thankfully—and a few minutes after I’m settled, the ultrasound tech knocks and enters the room.

I refuse to meet Fielding’s gaze as the tech rolls a condom onto the internal ultrasound wand—I can practically feel the dirty comment on the tip of his tongue.

I close my eyes and lie back, feeling a bit of pressure as we start the tour of my internal organs. After making notes about the length of my cervix and each ovary, she finally homes in on what I’ve been so damn anxious to see.

Not only does she zoom in, but she turns on a speaker, and the room is immediately filled with a rapid whooshing sound.

“And right there is your baby.”

She’s going on about a yolk sac and the gestational age when Fielding grips my hand.

I look away from the screen, teary-eyed, and turn to meet his gaze.

He’s not even trying to hold back. His lagoon-blue eyes pool with moisture as a single tear rolls down his cheek.

He grips my hand tighter before hovering close and tilting his face back toward the screen. “That’sourbaby, angel. We made that.”

If his enthusiasm in the parking lot was contagious, this unbridled emotion is my damn undoing. Waterworks erupt as I nod up at him. I’m so overwhelmed—and so damn relieved. There’s no question this man is in this with me, fully and completely.

We’re doing this. And I’m so damn lucky to be doing it with him.

“Why are you being such a picky pickle?” Serena asks, nudging my knee with hers. Leave it to her to notice that I’m just pushing my salad around the takeout container. An enormous cheese-topped salad sounded great when she asked for my lunch order. But by the time it arrived, my appetite had betrayed me yet again.

“Do you really want to know?” I flip the lid closed on my container. Hopefully, this wave of nausea will pass and I can eat after my next client.

“Of course. It’s my duty as your BFF to know all the things.”

“Well, your job responsibilities as BFF are about to expand. How do you feel about being an aunt? I’m pregnant.”

She jumps to her feet and spins to face me. “With a baby?” she demands.