Page 117 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
Today isn’t about articles or campaigns or brand positioning. Today is about the grainy black-and-white image we’re about to see on a screen.
“Are you nervous?” Gavin asks as he opens the back passenger door of his absurdly oversized SUV and gestures for me to climb in.
I nod. “Terrified.”
“Of the ultrasound?” Jack asks as he slides in next to me. “Will it hurt?”
“No. They don’t hurt. I’m scared of the nurse misreading the scan and telling me I’m pregnant with triplets.”
Harrison climbs in on my other side, shutting the door behind him. “Don’t joke about that.”
“I’m not,” I mutter. “You know twins run in my family.”
Jack leans forward, looking between us. “Technically, you already have twins.”
“Exactly,” I say, adjusting the seat belt over my chest. “I’m basically a nesting doll.”
Gavin smirks and starts the engine. “No matter what we see in there, we’ve got it covered.”
“Easy for you to say,” I reply. “You’ve got an entire PR firm and an espresso machine that cost more than my car.”
Harrison rests a warm hand on my knee. “We’re here. Whatever’s in there, however many, we’ve got it.”
And just like that, the edge of panic eases.
The clinic is sleek and comfortable, probably overpriced, with walls painted the color of beach fog and a salt lamp glowing on the receptionist’s desk. The woman behind it doesn’t even blink at the four of us checking in together. She hands me a clipboard and gestures toward a bank of beige chairs with a practiced smile.
I fill out forms while the guys argue softly about which waiting room magazine is the most outdated. Harrison finds aPeoplefrom 2017 and is scandalized to learn half the couples on the cover are divorced now. Jack picks up a parenting pamphlet and snorts at the title:“Diaper Duty for Dads.”Gavin pretends to readThe Economistand absolutely does not.
Then they call my name, and the three of them are on their feet before I budge an inch. Apparently, they’re nervous too.
The ultrasound tech is kind. She explains every step, every knob, every beeping sound. She warns us the image might take a minute to show up. The gel is cold, and I wince. Jack winces in sympathy. Harrison kisses my hand. Gavin hovers like he wants to fix something and can’t.
Then the screen flickers. And there it is. A small flickering blob. Pulsing steadily. A beat all its own.
I can’t breathe for a second.
“There’s the heartbeat,” the tech says, and everything in the room narrows to that one sound. A fast, sure rhythm, steady and strong.
Jack exhales. Gavin reaches for my shoulder. Harrison leans in like he can’t look away. It’s real. This is happening. I’m going to be a mom. Again. We’re going to be parents. All of us. Together.
“Just one heartbeat, right?” I ask nervously.
She nods. “Just the one.”
“Okay. I can handle just one.”
Jack grins and kisses my forehead. “You can handle anything.”
We walk out of the clinic in that hazy kind of high you only get from good news and cold gel wiped off your stomach. I’m still gripping the printout of the ultrasound like it might vanish if I don’t hold on to it tight enough. One tiny flickering heartbeat. One perfect little shape. One brand-new person growing in me.
“I’m still betting on twins,” Jack says as we walk toward Gavin’s SUV. The thing is massive, dwarfing anything else in the parking lot.
“Oh my god,” I groan. “Don’t even put that into the universe.”
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. “You’ve done it before. Statistically speaking?—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I warn, but I’m laughing, and I can tell they all are too.
