Page 16 of Tell Me I'm Yours
“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.
“Is everything else okay? The heart?” I ask. There’s no corporate authority in my tone now, it’s sheer protectivenessand instinct of a father. A new concept considering I’ve spent my whole adult life thinking it’s the last thing I’d want.
“Perfect,” Tara reassures us, turning the wand slightly. “Strong and steady. Now, let’s see if your little one wants to cooperate today.” The room goes silent, minus the heartbeat of our child in the background. Tara moves the probe down toward the base of Romy’s pelvis, and the image on the screen shifts, showing a clear cross-section of a tiny, perfectly formed spine, two little legs kicking slightly against the darkness. “You see those three little lines right there? Congratulations, you’re having a girl.”
A girl.
A sudden wave of emotion slams into my gut, so intense it nearly knocks the wind out of me. A little girl. A daughter. A mini-version of the breathtaking beauty sitting right beside me. Romy’s hand squeezes mine with an incredible strength. I look over at her. Tears are already spilling over her lashes, tracing hot, wet paths down her flush cheeks, her lips parting in a silent, overwhelming sob of pure happiness.
“A girl,” she chokes out, her eyes shining in the semi-dark room. “Vik, a little girl.”
“A girl,” I echo, my voice completely wrecked.
“I’ll let you two have a moment while the printer catches up,” Tara says gently, wiping the excess gel off Romy’s belly with a handful or paper towels before leaving the room.
The moment the door clicks shut, I lean over the table, my hand framing Romy’s face, thumbs sweeping the warms tears streaming down her cheeks. I bring my mouth down to hers, kissing her with a fierce intensity of love, devotion, and admiration I have inside me. It’s not gentle, it’s a claiming, a validation of everything we’ve fought for in this room. Her tongue tangles with mine as I hold her in place, taking over thekiss, wanting to take this a fuck of a lot further, except we’re in a damn doctor’s office.
“You know,” I mutter, a low wicked grin breaking through the heavy emotion. I pull back once we’re both breathless, my forehead resting against Romy’s. Her eyes are shimmering with tears. “Rafe was wrong.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about, and why are you thinking about Rafe right now?” She blinks, confusion written all over her face.
“Because,” I growl softly, my eyes dropping to her lips while licking my own and tasting her flavor. “He swore up and down that this old wives’ tale he heard about is true. The man swears if you make sure your woman comes first before the man gets off, it means you’ll have a boy. Clearly, that shit is wrong, and thank god for that.”
“Vik! You did not talk to Rafe about our sex life!” Her jaw drops slightly, a bright, beautiful flush creeping up from her neck to stain her cheeks.
“I can assure you, Rafe, nor anyone else, knows what happens behind closed doors.” My grin widens as I lean down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the tip of her nose.
“Alright, but speaking of Rafe, have you noticed Dante making eyes at Alex? What’s all that about, hmm?” I shake my head, my hands sliding down to rest on the warm curve of her bare hips, sliding my finger along the hem of her pants and underwear. Dante has spent the last decade earning himself a reputation as a ladies’ man. He’s the king of non-committal, charming his way through the night and slipping out before sunrise. Until recently. Lately, every time Alex walks into a room, Dante’s entire demeanor shifts. The slick, easy smiles evaporate, replaced with a laser-focused glare that looks more like a predator realizing he finally found something or someone worth keeping.
“Got not one single clue,” I lie smoothly, leaning down to steal another quick kiss before pulling my hands away from her sweet-as-sin curves before I take this further. “Why don’t you ask him tomorrow when we have everyone over?”
“Oh, I am absolutely going to. If Dante’s bachelor days are finally numbered, I want a front row seat to watch him burn.” Her eyes dance with mischief.
“Poor bastard isn’t going to see this coming. Let’s get out of here,” I say just as a knock on the door greets us. Tara walks in, goes straight to the ultrasound machine, pulls the pictures out, hands them to us, and then escorts us out to arrange Romy’s next appointment.
epilogue
ROMY
