Page 32 of Laced With Secrets

I looked at the screen. The baby looked more developed than in the picture Dominic had already seen—more defined features, clearer shape. I could make out the head, the curve of the spine, the tiny limbs.

“Oh my god,” Dominic breathed, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s so much bigger than in the picture.”

“Seven weeks of growth makes a difference at this stage,” Dr. Westfield said. “Measuring right on track for thirteen weeks. Good size, good position.” She pressed a button, and suddenly the room filled with sound.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.

Fast and strong and steady. Like a tiny drum. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.

“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Westfield said. “One hundred and forty-eight beats per minute. Perfect range for this stage.”

I felt Dominic’s hand shake in mine. The picture was one thing—seeing our baby frozen in a moment. But this, the sound of that tiny heart beating, the proof of life happening right now…

“Everything looks exactly as it should.“ Dr. Westfield continued, still moving the transducer, taking measurements. “The placenta in good position. You’re doing everything right, Leo.”

But I was barely listening. I was watching Dominic watch our baby, watching him fall completely apart and pull himself back together in the span of seconds. His free hand came up to cover his mouth, his eyes suspiciously bright. The sonogram picture had moved him, but this—hearing the heartbeat, seeing the baby move in real-time—was something else entirely.

“Can we…” He cleared his throat. “Can we get updated pictures?”

“Of course.” Dr. Westfield pressed more buttons, the machine whirring. “I’ll print you several. The baby’s in a great position today—these will be clearer than last time.”

“Good,” Dominic managed, his voice thick.

The heartbeat continued—whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh—filling the room with proof of life that we’d created together.

Dr. Westfield finished taking her measurements, made a few notes in my chart, and printed the pictures. She explained what we were seeing—the developing features, the way the baby was positioned, what to expect over the next few weeks. The head was clearly visible now, and she pointed out the tiny arms and legs, the curve of the spine. So much more detailed than the first sonogram.

“Any questions?” Dr. Westfield finally asked, powering down the machine and handing me paper towels to wipe off the gel.

“When can we find out the sex?” Dominic asked immediately. Then he looked at me, his forehead creasing with worry lines that betrayed his uncertainty. “I mean, if we want to know? Do we?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Yes, I think we do.”

“Usually around eighteen to twenty-two weeks. Dr. Hassan will schedule that for you.” She made a note in my chart.

I hesitated, then felt heat creep up my neck. “Um. I have a question too.”

Dr. Westfield looked at me with professional patience. “Of course.”

“About… intimacy.” I couldn’t quite look at Dominic. “Is it still… safe? To continue… you know.”

“Sexual activity?” Dr. Westfield said matter-of-factly, and I appreciated her directness even as my face burned. “Absolutely safe, as long as there are no complications like spotting or cramping. In fact, it’s healthy for bonded pairs to maintain physical intimacy during pregnancy. The baby is very well protected.”

Dominic’s hand tightened on mine, and I could feel interest spike through our bond.

“Any particular positions to avoid?” he asked, surprising me with his boldness.

“Anything that puts pressure on the abdomen, and Leo should avoid lying flat on his back for extended periods in the later months. But for now, at thirteen weeks, you have quite a bit of flexibility.” She smiled. “Listen to your body. If something feels uncomfortable, adjust. Communication is key.”

“Good to know,” Dominic said, his voice carefully neutral, though I could feel the heat of his gaze on me.

“Any other concerns?” Dr. Westfield asked.

I shook my head, glancing at Dominic to see if he had anymore questions. He shook his head, flashing me a warm, happy smile that revealed his sharp alpha incisors.

Dr. Westfield rose from her stool, her clipboard clutched in one hand.

“Oh, and no climbing ladders or doing anything that requires balance,” Dr. Westfield said, shooting Dominic a look. “Yourcenter of gravity is already starting to shift, even if you can’t feel it yet.”