Page 40 of Books and Hookups

“Second. I had an abortion in college.”

“No complications?”

Other than my father’s disappointment that I’d almost derailed my career? “No.”

“Got it. Are you aware of any genetic conditions in Dad’s family?”

I cringed. “No?” I knew nothing at all about Danny’s family, except that it was Italian and large.

“Not a problem. Let me know what you find out. Due to gaps in your medical history and your age, would you like to have the screening tests for genetic disorders?”

I must have looked panicked because Savannah mouthed, “The Book.”

“I guess?” I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant while I was sweating through my paper dress. “More information is always better.”

Dr. Cheema nodded and made a tick on her tablet. “We’ll watch you closely through the pregnancy in case of complications.”

“Complications?” Suddenly, keeping the baby didn’t seem like such a smart decision.

She set her tablet in her lap and looked into my eyes. “The occurrence of miscarriage, including late miscarriage, increases with age. We’ll do the genetic tests for chromosomal abnormalities, and we’ll do blood tests to check for gestational diabetes and preeclampsia. You’re also at a slightly higher risk for cesarean section, postpartum hemorrhage, and prolonged labor. You should call the office if you experience any spotting.”

There wasn’t enough air to breathe. Was the ventilation working in the tiny exam room?

Savannah squeezed my hand. “You’re going to be fine, honey. You’re healthy, and Dr. Cheema and her staff are going to take care of you. Women give birth in their forties all the time.”

“I’m thirty-nine,” I snapped.

“You’ll be forty in August, and that’s three months before the baby is born.”

“Fuck off.” I regretted that instantly. “I mean, you’re right.”

“Your friendisright,” Dr. Cheema said. “Starting motherhood in your forties is becoming more and more common. We know so much more now than we did twenty years ago. We’ll be well prepared for any complications.”

“Okay.” I breathed out. My hand steadied under Savannah’s. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dr. Cheema chirped. “Lie back on the table, and we’ll do an ultrasound.”

I reclined on the table while Dr. Cheema wheeled over a machine with a weird-looking keyboard and a screen.

“Next time, a technician will do your ultrasound. But I usually like to do the first one. Hearing the baby’s heartbeat for the first time never gets old. Feet in the stirrups.” She picked up a wand and sheathed it in a condom.

“What?”

As she spread gel over it, she said, “An internal ultrasound gives us a much better picture of the fetus when it’s this small.”

I glared at Savannah. “You didn’t think to warn me about the vaginal probe?”

She winced. “Surprise?”

Afew weeks after my OB-GYN appointment, on a Thursday in late May, I pulled open the door to welcome Carly and Andrew to my apartment.

I tugged Carly into a hug. “It’s good to see you. And you too, Loverboy.” I hugged him next, savoring his blush. “Are you treating our girl like the goddess she is?”

“Every chance I can,” he said, resting a hand on her lower back. Carly leaned a little closer to him, fitting into his side like the magnetic cable on my laptop.

Ugh.

As I shut the door behind them, I raised my eyebrows. “Is he?”

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