Page 69 of Savior
CHAPTER EIGHT
DEAN
Taking a seat beside Vanna, I hold her hand tightly as the doctor squirts some goo on a rather long, plastic wrapped wand, before it disappears beneath the sheet covering Vanna’s lower body. She’s got her feet wedged in the stirrups, her knees bent, and she’s lying back on an exam table. I watch her shift slightly, wincing uncomfortably for a moment as the doctor does her thing with that medical instrument.
Fighting my knee-jerk impulse to say something in an attempt to make Vanna laugh, I refrain from commenting that at least it doesn’t rival my girth. I don’t think the Lady Doc would appreciate that stupid bit of male humor, either. I’m just fucking nervous and concerned for both Vanna and the baby. Quite honestly, I don’t know what to do with myself, or how to make this easier for her.
The Lady Doc seems able to read that in my expression, offering a slight smile.
“We have to do it this way. It wouldn’t be as accurate through the abdomen this early on.” She explains. “Once we locate the fetus, I’ll be able to give you a better time frame of conception.”
They’re both staring at the screen, but I watch the Doc intently, waiting for any sign that something isn’t right. As the moments tick by, my grip on Vanna tightens, until she squeezes me back and I glance to find her face wearing a sympathetic smile, as if she knows I’m scared shitless. Her eyes are full of love and understanding. I’m too nervous for words right now, and so I ease up on my grip, lifting her hand and holding it to my lips.
“Ah hah! Here we are!” the lady Doc cheerfully says. She reaches with her other hand to turn on another switch, and suddenly there’s a steady, static like thundering coming from the screen. A rhythmic sound that doesn’t skip a beat... Not one, beautiful beat... A painful lump forms in my tight throat as I press Vanna’s hand tighter to my lips, stifling a sob that wants to escape.
“Oh my gosh, is that the baby’s heartbeat?” Vanna asks with astonished excitement.
“It is.” The lady Doc confirms, leaning slightly forward and pointing to a little blip on the screen. “And this, is your baby. I’d say based on the size, you conceived somewhere around mid to late February. You’re about six weeks, now. Possibly seven. Which means we’re looking at a delivery date somewhere around mid-November. We’ll be able to narrow that window as this pregnancy progresses.”
Vanna’s hand flies to her mouth as she looks at me. What I assume and hope are happy tears, well up in her eyes. “We’re having a little Scorpio, Dean! Like you!”
All I can do is smile against her hand. I can’t fuckin’ speak, so I kiss her again. She looks excitedly back towards the screen. “It’s so small.” She says, her voice barely a whisper now, “It doesn’t look at all like a baby yet.”
“Well, it’s only six weeks my dear.” The Doc chuckles. “Would you like me to print you out an image?”
“Yes, please.” Vanna smiles. “Can you print two?”
“Of course.” The lady Doc obliges, hitting another button on the screen. Two photos print from somewhere below, and she hands them to Vanna. With a knowing smile at me, she removes the wand from Vanna, discarding the slightly bloody encasing into a red bin and stands up from her stool. “A little bleeding is normal. The hormones in a woman’s body when pregnant, can cause the cervix to be highly sensitive.” She obviously feels inclined to reassure me, then passes Vanna a little packet of wipes to clean up with. “Something to consider before and after intimacy. So long as it doesn’t persist, it’s nothing to worry over. I’ll just give you two a few minutes alone while I grab the blood work results.” She exits the room, closing the door behind her.
My eyes shift back to Vanna in time to see her press a little kiss against the printed-out photo.
“May I have that one?” I ask, my voice sounding strangled even to my own ears. She immediately hands me the photo, now sporting a faint rosy imprint of her lips beside our kid. I stare at the image on the paper, still clutching her other hand.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fuckin’ Aces, baby.” I manage to whisper again. I feel her other hand stroke my jaw, then move up to run her fingers through the top of my hair, and I twist my face slightly to press another kiss against the hand I haven’t yet let go of. “I fuckin’ love you, Vanna… There aren’t words that exist to convey to you, just how fuckin’ much I love you. My heart feels like it could explode with all the emotions I’ve got going on in here.” I’m not lying. Since that night she told me, my chest has been swollen with a love and a pride I’ve never felt before in my life.
“I love you, too.” She tells me, smiling that sweet smile. “Can you believe this is happening?”
“I can hardly believe any of this, doll. Part of me fears this is some elaborate, exceptionally cruel, April Fool’s joke. I swear I have to pinch myself sometimes, just to make sure this is my reality. You’re fuckin’ magic, Vanna. Truly, a Goddess.”
“What should we name him?” she asks, ignoring my praise as usual.
“Oh, he’s a him now?” I smile.
She gives me a slight shrug. “Maybe. He feels like a him to me. Should we name him Dean Keegan the third?”
“Hell no.” The words shoot out of my mouth of their own volition, but she doesn’t force me to elaborate. She knows me well enough now, to get it without any help from me.
“How about Ace?”
“Ace?”
“Aces could be his Road Name.” she giggles. “How cute would that be?”
Before I can comment, or explain to her that that isn’t exactly how Road Names work, the doctor returns, looking down at what I assume is Vanna’s bloodwork. Her furrowed brow as she closes the door behind her and reclaims her seat on the stool beside Vanna, has my heart rate increasing with worry, once again.
“What is it?” I try to keep the rising anxiety from my tone, not wanting to alarm Vanna.
