Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
vik
“You know,” I start, taking in the sterile, crisp scent of the exam room that fills my nostrils. Christ, the smell is not all that great. I take my seat in the hard plastic chair beside the exam table, grasping Romy’s warm hand in mine. “We could have circumvented this entire wait game weeks ago. One phone call to the chief of medicine, a private blood panel, and the results would have been emailed to us within the hour.”
“Hush, Vik.” She doesn’t look my way, only stares at the blank monitor of the ultrasound machine, a small, stubborn smile playing at the corner of her lips.
“I’m serious, beautiful. I don’t see why we needed to wait. I have all this money. What better way to use it than to our advantage?”
“Because I love Dr. Charles, I love this clinic, and that’s all that matters,” Romy says teasingly, cutting her green eyes toward me and giving my hand a light squeeze. “Besides, we settled on a house this past weekend. A real house, with a yard, ground level, but with a hefty price tag that I didn’t agree with. Don’t push your luck.”
“I’m not pushing anything.” I let out a low rumble of laughter, my gaze shifting down her body. It’s incredibly hard to take her threat seriously right now. Romy is sitting slightly propped up on the paper-lined table, her top tucked up and under her bra, exposing her beautiful, rounded abdomen of her twenty-week pregnancy. “I’m just saying. Patience has never been my strong suit.”
“Clearly, because who moved up the closing date by offering above asking price in order for us to be in our home within seventy-two hours since first seeing it?”
“Are you complaining?” I follow up her question with one of my own. The penthouse is already sold. Her apartment is still in her name, and she’s keeping it as an office until her lease ends. Which means I have less than three months to convince her to use one of the empty spaces on my floor as her office. I’d much prefer her in my own building with me, but even I know my limits.
“Well, no. I do love our home even though we still have the whole financials to discuss.” She rolls her eyes before saying, “Some things are worth waiting for. Aren’t you excited to find out this way?”
“I’m excited just to look at you,” I counter, dropping my hand to press my palm flat against the bare skin of her stomach. The contrast of my large, tanned hand against her soft, pale skin is a reminder of how entirely wrapped up in Romy I’ve become. “But yes, I want to know who’s in there.”
Before she could answer, there’s a light knock and the door swings open with a soft click. A young ultrasound technician walks in carrying a tablet.
“Hi, there, I’m Tara. Ready to see what’s happening today?” she asks cheerfully, setting her tablet down beside the machine. She goes about preparing what needs to be prepared, my eyes watching the entire process.
“More than ready,” Romy says, her voice catching slightly with what I can assume is a sudden wave of nerves. I shift closer, my arm rubbing against hers, ensuring she feels my presence.
“You okay?” I murmur near her ear.
“Yeah,” she replies, taking a deep breath and looking up at me. “It’s a big day.”
“I’ve got you,” I promise. Tara clicks a few buttons on her keyboard and dims the overhead lights.
“Alright, Romy. This gel is a little bit warm, and you’ll feel a little bit of pressure from the probe.” She squeezes a thick dollop of the clear gel on the center of Romy’s abdomen. Tara then grabs the wand, moving it around the goop in slow, sweeping circles on her skin. The monitor comes to life. Grainy shadows begin to shift and dance on the screen. I have no idea what any of it means, until Tara presses a button, and a loud sound fills the quiet room. I’ve heard our child’s heartbeat before with the small doppler Dr. Charles uses at every appointment, but this is the first time I’m hearing it while seeing it at the same time.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
The sheer magnitude of the sound, the raw proof of the life we’re creating together, it threatens to completely unman me.
“Look at that.” Romy let’s out a shaky breath on a whisper, “There he or she is.”
“Yeah,” I scrape out, my voice rough, my eyes darting between the monitor and the woman beside me.
“I’m getting the standard measurements out of the way.” Tara’s fingers fly across the keyboard, during which she is quiet for a few minutes, clicking her mouse, freezing the image to draw dotted lines across the screen. “Checking the femur length and the head circumference. Everything is looking right on track for your gestation period.