Page 45 of Pregnant By the Playboy

“I’m fine,” I say.

But although my body has been changing, waiting for the ultrasound makes everything seem more real than it did before.

“I’ll take you out for something to eat after.” He squeezes my hand. “Whatever you like.”

“Okay.” That sounds nice.

“Did you know the fetus is now as big as a lime?”

“My book says it’s as big as a plum.”

“Same difference, I guess.” He pauses. “Though limes are more uniform in size than plums, aren’t they? So maybe that’s a better comparison.”

“Are you trying to say your book is better than mine—”

My stomach objects to this conversation about plums and limes. I put my hand to my mouth, feeling like I’m about to hurl, and Vince grabs a garbage can.

Fortunately, the urge soon passes.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Across from us, the man is singing to his wife’s stomach. “Rock-a-bye Baby,” which is kind of a horrible song if you listen to the lyrics. In the background, a Katy Perry song is playing.

Then Everclear comes on.

“I like this one,” I murmur.

“Yeah, it’s a good song,” Vince says.

Across from us, the mother-to-be exclaims, “Oh my God, I love classic rock!”

Classic rock? What the fuck?

Vince chuckles at the look of outrage on my face.

And then the man stops singing, and he and his wife discuss all the “classic” songs they like. I’m feeling more and more horrified by the second.

OMG, I really am old.

“I’m going to throw up!” I cry.

Vince thrusts the garbage can in front of me just in time.

* * *

I’m sitting on the exam table, feeling not too bad now. The ultrasound and a few other tests have been completed.

The ultrasound technician returns to the room with Vince, who stands beside me and squeezes my hand. The technician shows us the image on the screen and explains, roughly, what everything is. The results will be sent to my ob-gyn.

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” I say.

“Yeah.” Vince’s single-word response is quiet. “That’s our baby-to-be.”

There are tears on his cheeks, and something in my chest clenches. I wrap my arms around his waist.

“I can give you two a minute,” the technician says.