Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

“But on TV, they always do it on the belly,” I say faintly. How the hell do you do transvaginal ultrasound, anyway? On TV, the ultrasound equipment looks sort of bulky. I don’t know if they’re going to fit down there, even with lube.

Somebody ought to sue Hollywood for misrepresenting a very important medical procedure.

“Yes, but that’s for later. This one will show us potential risks.”

I inhale sharply. I know it’s her job to bring them up, but I still hate hearing the word.

“What kind of risks?” Edgar asks.

“Could be anything, really, including some that could potentially cause miscarriage. Early detection can help us plan the best course of action.”

That snuffs all the objections I have about the transvaginal ultrasound. But I’m disappointed anyway. I thought Edgar and I would see the baby together on the monitor. But there’s no way I’m having him watch me in stirrups.

Dr. Silverman smiles, clearly having dealt with this issue before. “The examination room is next door, but the monitors here can receive images. So you’ll be able to see what we’re seeing there, Mr. Blackwood. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have afterward.”

Edgar nods, the picture of calm and control. “Thank you.” The fact that he’s so unperturbed helps settle my nerves a bit.

She turns on the monitors and hits a few buttons on her computer and the monitor. Then she leads me to an adjoining blue and teal room. Another soothing color combination. It makes me feel like I’m snorkeling.

“You don’t have to be completely naked or anything,” she says. “It’s going to be just like a pap, but takes a bit longer, obviously. Just remove the bottom half of your clothing. Or, if you prefer, you can put on a disposable gown. There’s also a small blanket to use if you’d like. I’ll be in the adjacent room. Just hit the bell here when you’re ready,” Dr. Silverman says, gesturing at a button near the stirrups.

Since I’d rather not put on the paper gown, I just take off my skirt and underwear. I hurry, since I’m too impatient to meet the baby. I want the doctor to tell me how big—or small—the baby is, where he’s situated and when I’m going to know for sure if it’s a boy. Call it a mother’s intuition, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a boy.

After placing a blanket over my lady parts—no need to flash the world for God knows how long until the doctor returns—I hit the bell and wait, slightly nervous about the whole situation. Obviously, TV shows have lied to me, so maybe nothing too big is going in down there.

Dr. Silverman walks back in, her expression serene. She hits a few buttons, and my seat starts to angle backward and the monitors to my right come on.

My palms grow a little damp. I’m more nervous than I was when I had my first pap smear. Oh my God. The baby!

I brace for the impact, so to speak, but I don’t even feel anything, except something slightly warm and s

lick between my legs. And the monitors show the images I’ve been waiting for.

But there are so many white dots things in the picture. I stare hard, trying to locate the baby.

“The baby’s right here.” Dr. Silverman uses the track pad, moving a red pointer to the correct white smudge out of all the smudges. “Let’s see…”

She hits a few buttons and manipulates the ultrasound.

My mouth dries. I can’t believe how tiny he is.

She makes a few noises under her breath.

“Everything’s fine, right?” I ask.

“Mm-hmm,” she says distractedly. She clicks a few things on her computer, then returns her attention to me. “It’s perfect. Absolutely beautiful.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My eyes grow hot, and I realize I’m about to cry.

I blink away tears, embarrassed to be so emotional. Dr. Silverman gives me an understanding look. “I’ll go to the other room where Edgar is. Just come on over when you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

I take some time to make myself presentable and compose my feelings, not wanting to look like a mess when I face Edgar again. He’s probably as calm and placid as ever, and I don’t want to be the only blubbery one.

When I make it back to the consultation room, Edgar turns his head to look at me. I start to smile, but my facial muscles freeze. His eyes are brilliant with undisguised emotion. Gratitude, relief, joy, happiness and a hundred others compete for prominence.

And suddenly it hits me how much he wants this baby. This isn’t just a duty or something he has to deal with because birth control accidentally failed one night.