“It’s probably a cat,” I managed.
Her eyes grew. “Do you own cats? It doesn’t look like a cat bite but…this is deep. We should get you started on antibiotics and scanned for—”
“We don’t own cats.” Grayson exhaled his annoyance.
“Oh.” She stood up. “I’ll…go get the ultrasound now. Are you ready to hear the heartbeat?”
I nodded, sinking into my shoulders, wishing the world would swallow me whole. When she’d left the room, I smacked Grayson as hard as I could.
His eyes darkened. “You’re really pushing the whole ‘carrying my baby’ thing.”
“Why did you say that?”
“I pay her millions to keep her mouth shut. You’d rather have her think a cat bit you than I did?”
“Yes.” I sank against the leather, folding my arms tighter.
His jaw twerked, neck strained so hard I saw the muscle jump. He stared ahead. Was he pissed? I was the one with a reason to be upset. Now the doctor not only knew I was knocked up by someone other than my husband, but we liked it weird.
The next ten minutes passed in stony silence until the doctor and the technician came back. They squirted slimy, cold gel across my stomach. I kept thinking this was never going to work. It wasn’t even thirty minutes into this and Grayson and I were arguing.
And then it happened.
It was faint, but it was there, the heartbeat.
“Whoa,” I breathed.
I turned to see if Grayson was watching, but my gaze collided with his.
That moment was what fairy tales were made for. Maybe a happily ever after with Grayson would never be possible, but for a second, everything faded away save for the soft, aching look in his eyes. The warmth in his smile.
Grayson Crowne was happy.
And so was I.
We finished up, and then it was time to talk to the doctor, ask her any questions I had. I did have questions, but none I wanted Grayson Crowne privy to, especially if we were trying to keep this thing friendly.
I eyed him. “Can you leave?”
He furrowed his brow. “I’m here for everything, Snitch.”
I worked my hands in my lap. “I have questions I don’t want you to hear.”
“Everything, Snitch.”
I glared. Somehow his jaw got sharper, and he had that look, that Grayson look, and I knew arguing with him was going to take hours. We would be late for the beginning of the holidays.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’m feeling a little bit…more—”
“Hungry?” Grayson prompted. “Nauseated? Are your ankles swollen?” He turned to the doctor, hand held in my direction. “Fix that.” He sounded pissed at her, and the doctor frowned.
“No,” I glared at him. “Horny,” I whispered quietly, wishing I could melt into the leather patient chair.
It was so quiet the silence buzzed. Grayson looked like I’d just thrown a pie at his face. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and rubbed a finger through the wrinkle between them.
Then she spoke. “That’s perfectly normal, as is sex—”
“She doesn’t need to know any of that.” He cut her off, turning to me, tone frigid. “You’re not having sex.”