Page 72 of Hooked On Them

I already liked this doctor. She held no judgment on her face and hadn’t immediately assumed either of us was the father.

I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but Miles beat me to it. “Miles Collins. Friend and... emotional support person.”

My head snapped up in surprise. After weeks of the fake boyfriend routine, I’d expected Miles to keep playing the part. Instead, he’d just acknowledged the truth.

“I’m Dominic Wilson, the father.”

Dr. Patel shook our hands in turn. “Wonderful! The more support, the better.” She turned back to Nora. “Let’s take a look at how Baby’s doing. Go ahead and lay back for me.”

Nora reclined on the exam table and lifted her shirt, revealing the subtle curve of her lower stomach. It was barely there, just the slightest swell that probably wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking for it, but it stopped my lungs from working all the same.

“Oh, a little baby bump coming in nicely,” Dr. Patel noted with a warm smile.

I went completely still, my eyes locked on that gentle curve. That was my child. Not an idea or a problem to be solved, but something real and alive growing inside her. The reality of it slammed into me with the force of a body check.

Nora’s hand drifted over her stomach. “I’m pretty sure it’s fifty percent actual baby, fifty percent brownie bites someone keeps having delivered.” Her eyes flicked to me for a split second before darting away.

My face was suddenly hot as Miles looked at me in surprise. Hell, I surprised myself every time I had something delivered to her place.

Dr. Patel pulled the ultrasound machine closer. “I’m going to put some gel on your abdomen. It’s been in a warmer, but it still might be a little cold.”

She grabbed the gel and squeezed it onto Nora’s skin. The doctor’s movements were practiced and gentle as she pressed the wand against Nora’s belly, sliding it around until the grainy black-and-white monitor flickered to life.

The room went silent. Even my thoughts shut up for once.

And then there it was, a rapid, rhythmic whooshing filled the room. Fast. So fucking fast.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” Dr. Patel said, her voice soft with practiced reverence. “About one-sixty beats per minute. Strong and steady.”

My breath caught in my throat. It didn’t even sound real. Too fast, too intense to be something inside a person.

But it was real. As real as anything had ever been.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

Dr. Patel didn’t even glance my way, apparently used to stunned profanity in her exam room. She adjusted the wand slightly. “And here we can see Baby more clearly now.”

My eyes darted to the monitor. The grainy image showed... something. A curved shape, lighter than the dark background. I had no fucking clue what I was looking at, but my heart threatened to pound right out of my chest anyway.

Nora’s hand suddenly shot out, reaching for something to grab. Instead of finding Miles’s hand, her fingers wrapped around mine. Her grip was almost painful, but I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.

No words. No explanations. Just that connection while that incredible sound filled the room around us.

Miles shifted slightly, and I caught the flash of something across his face. It was gone before I could identify it, replaced by the stoic expression he’d perfected on the ice.

“See here?” Dr. Patel traced a curved line on the screen. “That’s the spine developing. And these?” She pointed to tiny protrusions. “Baby’s arms and legs forming. Everything looks exactly as it should for twelve weeks.”

“It looks like a gummy bear,” I blurted, earning a surprised laugh from Nora. Her hand was still clutching mine.

“A very wiggly gummy bear,” Dr. Patel agreed with a smile. “The baby’s moving around in there, but it’s still too small for Mom to feel.”

Mom.There was that word again. And by extension, I wasDad. I was going to be a dad.

“Usually between sixteen and twenty-two weeks is when you’ll start to feel movement. First-time moms often feel it later.”

My eyes remained glued to that screen, watching the tiny movements of something that was half me. I couldn’t look away if the building caught fire.

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