Page 100 of Omega's Formula

I laugh. “Well, I suppose we are already married and with a baby on the way. It shouldn’t be a big deal for us to spend the night together.”

I reach for my phone and text Mrs. Kay:Staying with a friend tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.

Her response comes quickly:Be careful.

I set the phone aside and curl back into his warmth. “I’m staying. But just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight,” he agrees, but his arm tightens around me like he’s already dreading letting go.

We don’t intend to do anything but sleep. We order takeout from the usual Thai place down the street because neither of us wants to get dressed, and we eat it sitting cross-legged on the bed, passing containers back and forth. When we’re done, he takes the empty containers, cleaning up while I lie back against the pillows. My eyelids are heavy. The baby is doing somersaults, probably jacked up on Thai food. When Erik slides back into bed beside me, I curl into him without thinking.

“Nolan?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you. For giving me a chance.”

I’m asleep before I can respond.

The morning comes too quickly. Watery winter light filters through the curtains, and for a moment I don’t remember where I am. Then I feel Erik’s arm around me, his hand splayed across my belly, and it all comes rushing back.

I stayed the night. With Erik. In the apartment I fled months ago.

And I don’t regret it.

That’s the surprising part. I expected to wake up panicked, questioning every decision that led me here. Instead I feel... settled. Calm.

The scan is early so we don’t have the luxury of staying in bed. We stop at a bakery for pastries on the way to the hospital because I’m starving—the baby is always hungry thesedays and Erik insists on carrying the bag even though it weighs approximately nothing.

I know the doctor who leads us into the ultrasound room although I don’t know her name. She used to be a regular at the café: plain black every time.

She grins when she sees me and asks me how I’ve been doing, giving Erik a curious look. I answer vaguely, saying that I’ve been doing tutoring work and keeping off my feet while I’m pregnant.

I lie down on the hospital bed while she wheels the ultrasound into position. “Lie back, try to relax.”

The gel is cold on my stomach. Erik is sitting beside me, his hand wrapped around mine, and when the technician presses the wand against my belly and the image appears on the screen, I hear his breath catch.

“There’s the head,” she narrates, pointing. “Spine. Arms. Legs. Everything looks perfect, Nolan. Baby’s measuring right on track.”

I can’t look away from the screen.

“Do you want to know the sex?” she asks.

I look at Erik. He looks at me.

“Yes,” we say together.

She smiles. “Congratulations. You’re having a boy.”

A boy. A son. Erik’s grip on my hand tightens almost painfully, and when I glance at him, there are tears in his eyes. He doesn’t try to hide them.

“A boy,” he repeats, voice cracked. “We’re having a boy.”

“Yeah.” My own voice isn’t much steadier. “We are.”

She prints pictures for us. We have a fuzzy view of the face, one of a tiny fist. Erik takes them reverently, handling the flimsy paper like it’s made of gold.

We walk out of the hospital into the pale winter sunshine, and it feels natural.