Bennett (On the Line 2) - Page 83
Julia handed me the pictures she had printed off and then led us to an exam room.
“So, his . . . equipment,” Bennett said to her, “it was pretty prominent? Like, you knew immediately he’s a boy because it’s above average for his size, right?”
“There’s no doubt about it,” Julia said with a laugh. “But we don’t do percentiles for penises or anything.”
“But, if you did . . . his would be up there, wouldn’t it?”
“I imagine so,” she said, meeting my eyes and grinning. “Dr. Chung will be in soon, guys.”
“Wow,” Bennett said, sitting down in a chair along the wall. “We’ve got loads of blue shit to buy now. He’ll need a little Flyers sweater.”
“And we can start talking about names,” I said, resting a hand on my belly.
A youngish Asian woman with a bright smile came in and introduced herself as Dr. Amanda Chung. She spent a while talking about the pregnancy since it was my first visit with her.
“Sono looks good,” she said, clicking through the images on her tablet. “Everything seems to be developing well. So I’ll just see you again in four weeks.”
We said good-bye to her and left, passing the sonogram photos back and forth. Bennett took photos of all of them with his cell phone.
“Hold on,” he said, squinting to look closer at one when we were stopped at a stoplight, “is that his . . . manhood?”
I laughed so hard a snort came out at the end. “Manhood? Have you been reading Harlequin novels or something?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? They make my loins quiver.”
“That’s his arm,” I said, turning to look over my shoulder as we drove through downtown Fenway. “Hey, can we stop at that baby boutique? Do you have time?”
“Sure.”
“So you’re pretty fixated on our son’s genitalia,” I said as he turned the car around.
“I just want to know how he measures up, you know?”
“We’ll love him no matter the size of his anatomy.”
“’Course we will. He can start skating when he’s three.”
I looked over at him. “You want him to play hockey?”
“Yeah. I mean, if he likes it. It’s something I can teach him.”
“And how to fix cars,” I said, reaching for his hand.
“Yep.”
“And how to be a gentleman.”
His eyes softened. “Thank you, Char.”
“You already know you’re a gentleman,” I said as he parked the car.
“Yeah, but this stuff with Liam . . .” He sighed deeply.
“What? You know he’s just being melodramatic.”
“No, I think he genuinely thinks I’m not good enough for you. And at the risk of sounding like a total pussy . . . it hurts.”
I took his hand in both of mine. “What we have is just ours. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. I love that you’re forward-thinking enough to stay by my side through this without feeling like you have to own me or something.”
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