Page 104 of Taming the Rockstar

Sierra shakes her head, “Nah, he’s at the beach with his sister and my husband. We’ve never been to California.” She grabs her phone and shows Priya and me a photo of a smiling baby wearing tiny swim trunks, “This was yesterday. He doesn’t quite know what to think of the ocean.”

“Oh, how lovely.” Priya gushes. It does make me feel a little better to see someone who's also a working mom in the music industry. My stomach settles, and it’s not just because of the ginger ale.

Sierra grins. “Yeah, he’s a handful but he’s the best. You’ll see.” I hand Sierra’s gum back to her and ask her to email me the file with her setlist. I think about how Vince said it’s going to believe him, and that night, watching Sierra charm the crowd with stories between songs about her son and Schnauzer, I start to believe him.

Thursday morning, Vince and I stare at the entrance of a Laurel Canyon OBGYN’s office like it’s a puzzle we’re trying to solve.

“You go first,” Vince suggests. He waves his hand forward and the door opens automatically.

“Why me?” I retort like a frightened child.

“I dunno! You’ve been to the doctor for your lady bits, yeah?” Vince blurts.

‘Up until a couple of months ago, most appointments centered around the idea of me not getting pregnant in the first place! This is different!” I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.

“Okay, uh, well, your appointment’s at 10:30 and it’s 10:15, one of us will have to go,” Vince mumbles.

“And it’s gonna be you,” I catch him off guard and shove him forward into the entrance while he’s checking his phone.

Vince stumbles into the entrance way and I follow suit. “Since when did you get so fucking sneaky?” He teases, spinning around and grabbing my hips. He pulls me to him and kisses me.

“I’m a woman of mystery and stealth,” I tease back.

“That you are,” he replies, kissing me again. I feel my nerves start to calm. It suddenly occurs to me that I have no logical reason to be nervous about this. Yes, I’ll be someone’s parent, but I’ll be doing this with Vince. He loves me like nothing else in the world, and if he’s half as good as a parent to our human child as he is to Violet, he’ll be the father of the year.

I sigh and grab his hand as we walk up to the reception desk. The receptionist is a young woman in her twenties with a septum piercing. She gives Vince a triple-take as she hands me a clipboard.

I fill out my information and a chipper nurse calls my name fifteen minutes later. Vince and I walk back to an exam room.

Twenty minutes and two vials of blood later, it’s confirmed that I’m pregnant, and the OB hands me a gown to change in for the ultrasound.

I strip after she closes the door and Vince whistles. I swat his chest, “It’s a hospital gown! We’re talking industrial-strength polyester.”

“And yet, you still look ravishing,” Vince says. I laugh and scoot back up onto the table, the paper crinkles beneath my thighs.

“Hi Lyndsey, my name is Claire and I’ll be doing your ultrasound tod-Oh, my God,” the ultrasound tech stops as soon as she enters the room, a large industrial cart trailing behind her.

Her jaw hits the floor as she does the mental calculations to confirm that the bassist for the Imposters is standing in front of her. She pulls the cart up next to her with a loud screech and takes a deep breath.

“I see you’ve already changed into your gown, that’s great. Now, if you want to go ahead and lie back and put your feet in those stirrups for me and you,” she glances at Vince, “Your partner can um, hold your hand. I’m sorry, are you?” She’s stumbling over her words.

“Yeah, I am,” Vince says. He walks over to my side and grabs my hand as I place my feet in the stirrups.

“This is my fiancée, Lyndsey,” he says.

“Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations. Now, Lyndsey, I’m going to insert this wand into your vaginal canal, and we’ll see how far along you are.” Claire grabs what looks like a massive plastic wand that’s somehow supposed to fit inside of me. I stiffen involuntarily.

“That’s a bit medieval, isn’t it?” Vince balks. “Seems a little cruel and unusual.”

“It’s a standard procedure and don't worry, it doesn't go past the cervix,” Claire says diplomatically as she spreads a glob of lube across the tip of the wand.

I take a deep breath and squeeze Vince’s hand as she inserts the wand. I will my muscles not to clench.

“And if you look to your left, you’ll see your baby,” Claire says. She does measurements and then declares, “It looks like you’re right at eleven weeks.”

Vince and I crane our heads to the side and sure enough, the fuzzy gray ultrasound screen shows a distinct skeleton.

“Whoa,” I say.

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