Page 67 of Best Friends
I look back at the screen, where our baby is moving around like they’re trying to get comfortable. Malcolm is right. Knowing the sex of the baby will make things more practical, but there’s something magical about not knowing. I like the idea of a surprise waiting for us. “I think I want to wait,” I say finally. “Is that okay?”
Malcolm’s expression softens. “More than okay, if that makes you happy, C. I like surprises too.”
“Surprise it is,” Dr. Harrison says cheerfully, moving the wand away from any potentially revealing angles. “Let me just take a few measurements and then we’ll get you cleaned up.”
He spends the next few minutes taking pictures and measurements, the machine beeping softly as he works. I watch our baby move on the screen, occasionally bringing a hand up toward their face or shifting position. It’s mesmerizing.
“Everything looks great,” he announces, adjusting the view one last time. “The baby’s measuring right on schedule—about twenty-four weeks and a couple of days, which lines up perfectly with your due date.”
He hits a button that prints out several ultrasound photos, still warm from the machine.
He hands me a towel to wipe off the gel, and I reluctantly sit up as the screen goes dark. The loss of that window into my body feels surprisingly depressing.
“So everything’s norm—okay?” Malcolm asks one more time. “No concerns at all?”
“None whatsoever,” Dr. Harrison confirms, pulling off his gloves. “Carrick’s doing beautifully, the baby’s thriving, and you’re both going to be excellent parents.” He hands us the printed photos, still warm from the machine. “Your next appointment will be in four weeks, and then we’ll start seeing you every two weeks as we get closer to your due date.”
I stare down at the photos, at the grainy black and white image of our child. In one picture, you can see the baby’s profile clearly, peaceful and perfect. In another, they appear to be sucking their thumb.
“Thank you,” I tell Dr. Harrison, my voice thick with emotion.
“My pleasure,” he says warmly. “Take care of yourselves, and I’ll see you in a month.”
After he leaves, Malcolm helps me down from the examination table, his hands gentle on my waist. I can feel his excitement radiating off him in waves, mixing with the lingering scent of his earlier nervousness.
I slip on my shirt, running my fingers through my hair. “That was amazing,” I say. “It all feels so real now.”
“It was pretty real before.” He laughs.
“Yeah, but you know what I mean. There’s knowing I’m pregnant and seeing the baby looking all… baby like.”
He smiles. Yeah.” He puts his hand on my stomach. “Just think, C., three more months and we’ll actually be holding them.”
“God. I… I know,” I agree, leaning into his warmth. “Scared?”
“Terrified,” he admits. “But also so fucking excited I can’t see straight.”
“Same.” I laugh, tucking the ultrasound photos carefully into my wallet.
As we leave the doctor’s office and walk toward the parking garage, Malcolm’s arm around my shoulders, I can’t stop thinking about that image on the screen. How real it all looked. How much the baby has grown since our last appointment.
“You know what this means, right?” Malcolm says as we reach the car.
“What?”
“We really need to finish the nursery. And figure out the whole car seat situation.”
I groan dramatically. “I told you we have time for all that. Though I guess we should probably register for the baby shower soon.”
“Mom’s been asking about that for weeks,” he points out, opening my car door for me. “She wants to start planning.”
“I know, I know,” I say, settling into the passenger seat.
He slides in behind the wheel and starts the truck. “What would you think about some ice cream to celebrate how amazinglynormalour baby is?” He grins.
I chuckle. “Like I’d turn down ice cream for any reason?”
“True.” He pulls out onto the street and his hand finds mine. “Life will change once the baby is here, but I want you to know you’ll always be my priority, C. Okay?”
